Yes, I think I can do this.
I scan the shelf with an arrangement of female and male hair products. I find his black bottle that costs more than my conditioner and body wash put together. “Your precious shampoo is here,” I say in my usual biting tone.
“You shouldn’t insult my shampoo. I’ve been told my hair is my second best feature.” He ignores the fact that Scott still stands outside the second shower, his hand on the glass door, frozen as he watches.
I only notice Scott from the corner of my eye. He waits for one of us to acknowledge his presence. And I refuse to entertain his snide comments.
Even though, really, it’s more than rude to be bathing in a communal shower together. I know Lily has already done it…though in her bathing suit. And I wouldn’t be surprised if Daisy has too with her new boyfriend (that no one has met yet).
I want to not care and just “go with the flow”—I’ve never really been like that.
Connor quickly unbuttons his shirt and tosses it aside, now only in black slacks. As he nears my shower, he’s clearly taller than Scott.
Connor combs his hand through his hair. “It’s thick, full—something to grab onto.”
Is he still talking about his hair? My eyebrows rise at him in question, and he shows off a million-dollar grin. I stare at his crotch, unabashed about looking now.
“And what’s your first best feature?” I challenge. Your cock, most definitely.
“My ass.” His smile widens. And with this, he steps right out of his pants and boxer-briefs. Completely f**king nak*d.
The glass door still separates our bodies, but Connor has just shed his clothes right in front of Scott. And he doesn’t even care. He acts like the producer deserves none of his attention, as though he’s as low as weeds in cracked pavement.
Connor is the sexiest he’s ever been.
He opens the shower door confidently, and I try not to shy away. No man has ever seen me this nak*d and that’s all about to change.
And in order to give Scott the middle finger, I can’t be alarmed when Connor’s nak*d body comes into contact with my nak*d body.
There’s just a whole lot of nak*d in this scenario.
With no room for fear.
Fearless nudity. I do like the sound of that.
I pull my shoulders back and drop my arm as Connor steps inside, careful to block my exposed body from Scott. He closes the door behind him.
His tactic to neglect the third-party works for the most part. Scott stands outside of his shower stall, just watching us in curiosity, as though he’s considering grabbing a video camera. If he does, I will snip his f**king…
My thoughts trail off as soon as Connor nears me. His eyes drop, climbing from my bare legs and rising higher and higher. His gaze momentarily pauses on the spot between my thighs, and I swear he smiles ever so slightly. Places that no man has ever touched ache for hard pressure. All because of his stupid smile. And those eyes, I suppose.
They heat me as much as the shower steam, his blue irises ascending once more from my feet to my br**sts where he lingers. I check the state of my n**ples. Erect. Of course. My pulse speeds crazily, and each bead of water scorches my skin.
And yet, I don’t want to move. I want to stand right here and burn with this fire.
Connor closes in, and his hardness brushes against my belly. I feel so short without high heels on. I look up. The water rains down on his body, where his muscles curve in hard, defined lines, leading to his cock. Just seeing that stirs something deep inside of me, the heat and his body numbing my brain.
A strong need heightens, the kind that would like a real dick and not a rubber one—the kind that I’ve snubbed for a long, long time. This is something I would have fantasized about at sixteen in my bedroom. Connor Cobalt entering my shower like a dominant god, his intelligence trouncing mine for a long, stimulating moment.
He reaches over me, grabbing his expensive shampoo, and his arm rubs against my shoulder. My chest collapses. Just like that.
I don’t breathe.
I can’t move.
I’m surprised my brain hasn’t completely shut off. But then I would really be pissed. My brain has never ditched me before, and like hell the first time would be because of a penis.
Fearless nudity. Right. I suck in a breath and command my confidence to return.
“Your project,” I whisper to Connor. He needs this time to work, not guard me from the sleazy producer. Normally I would protest against the backup, but I wish, more than anything, he’d stay right here.
“I finished it,” he says, his face naturally unreadable. It could very well be a lie, but I’d rather not reignite that argument.
The other shower turns on, and I hear the water splash against the tiles. Scott decided to make this situation more awkward. I’m about to look over and shoot him one of my signature death glares. But Connor rests a hand on my bare hip and maintains my position here in front of him. He stands between me and Scott, the chest-high wall also adding a bit of a barrier between us and the producer. I pull a wet strand of hair off my lip. Despite being shielded by a six-foot-four muscular man, my fury ejects. “Nice of you to wait ten minutes, Scott. If my shower ends up being cold, I’m going to—”
“What? What are you going to do?” Scott says in amusement, most likely smirking. “Assault me with your nails? Claw me? Please do. And be sure to forget the towel when you come into my shower.”
Uh…fuck. I suddenly realize that giving Scott attention is the equivalent of kicking Connor to the ground.
My boyfriend can be the bigger person in most situations. I tend to take the low road.
Connor lets his annoyance pass through his features. His jaw sets tight and his eyes flash hot at me. Just when I wonder if he’s going to punish me, as he once said he’d do, he returns to his shampoo, actually washing his hair.
Disappointment floods me. Is it bad that I wished he punished me somehow? I guess I should go back to my routine then… I bite my gums, trying not to be distracted as I grab my razor. But he’s much larger than anything I’ve put inside me, and he’s only semi-hard.
“So what’s your job title at Cobalt Inc.?” Scott asks Connor.
“Interim CEO,” he replies civilly. I think Scott’s just trying to provoke Connor.
“So it’s temporary?”
“Provisional, momentary, brief,” Connor lists with a casual tone. “More synonyms for interim in case you need them.”
Scott snorts but has nothing to fling back in my boyfriend’s face.
I concentrate on bathing. I still have to shave my leg. And that means bending over in front of Connor. He continues to hide me from Scott, so I have no clear view of him—thankfully. I don’t want Scott to see my ass. He can look at Connor’s all day—you know, since it’s his best feature.
Maybe I can skip shaving.
Fuck it. I’ve come this far. I’m nak*d in a shower with a nak*d man. I can bend over a little. I lather soap on my leg, and then I lean over to finish shaving. My bottom rubs against his dick, and I go to stand up and scoot forward, away from him, but Connor puts a hand on my back, forcing me to stay down.
His other palm caresses the soft flesh of my ass. And then he squeezes me hard, and I hear the warning in his grip don’t give Scott anything of yours.
I wince and can’t help but smile, loving that he cares. He alternates between a forceful grip and a soft one, rubbing and clenching, nearing the spot between my legs. Not yet entering. My arms shake as I attempt to shave, especially when he massages my bottom and then slaps it. Ahh…fuck me…
Why does that feel so good?
He releases his hand on my back, allowing me the option to stand, but his fingers perilously dip to the crease of my ass.
He lowers them. And I yelp, a sound that has never left my mouth before. I’ve just been startled out of my f**king mind. Holy… I knick my kneecap, drawing blood, and stand up straight, causing Connor’s hands to fall from me.
Scott laughs. He’s f**king laughing, which only pummels me with more guilt and shock. I just rejected Connor right in front of Scott—is that what it looks like? I slowly turn around and meet Connor’s complacent, composed and most importantly unreadable expression. I channel so many apologies through my face. I’m using facial muscles that have been static for the past twenty-three years.
Scott’s chortles still scald my eardrums. Out of haste, I try to turn on the producer and curse him out, to ineloquently explain how it wasn’t just Connor. If any man tried to do that with me, they would have been met with the same alarmed response.
But Connor pinches my chin and forces my gaze on him. Our eyes connect on a different level. The world becomes small.
No rush of water or nak*dness.
Just me. Just him. Just us.
Desire blankets and pulses and shrouds me in its heady web. Wants and urges bubble, feelings that have been caged since we moved to the townhouse. It all springs to life, and I see the longing swim in his deep blues.
We haven’t gotten off in a while. I haven’t masturbated in our bed, fearful of the noises catching on microphones outside the walls. And Connor used to masturbate in our shower, which has become complicated with the communal style here.
We’re both horny as hell. Especially after arousing each other downstairs.
And then his thumb brushes my jaw, my lower lip, and slides into my mouth.
An audible noise of consent, of yearning and delight escapes.
It’s a moan that I am not so quick to catch this time.
[ 15 ]
She closes her lips around my thumb. Her pleasure flushes her cheeks and causes her to shift towards me, my c*ck throbbing for her tightness, for the place that she’s let no man into.
I want to remind Rose that I’m the one who causes her body to tremble—not the f**king moron one shower over. Her anger towards Scott only fuels him and lets him believe he has power over her. Biting comments, insults, that love-hate relationship is our dynamic.
He can’t have it.
But as soon as she makes a noise, he shuts off his shower. I watch him wrap a towel around his waist, and he glances at me once with cold, pissed eyes before he shoves through the door. I’m not uncomfortable by the situation, but hearing my girlfriend moan from my touch must have been his limit.
My free hand slides to the back of Rose’s neck, holding her very close to me. I lower my head and whisper, “I’m going to put something else in your mouth, Rose.”
Her eyes meet mine with questions. I say only one thing with my gaze.
You’re safe with me.
She can leave. She has full capability to knock me back in the chest and chastise me about commanding her to drop to her knees. Rose is not shy. She is not weak or insecure. If she doesn’t want something, she’ll let me know.
She’s a virgin, I remind myself. Giving her what she craves, what she’ll love but denies—it’s going to take time, no matter how much my body protests the long wait. But if she can accept this, to begin to submit in bed, then we can finally move forward.
As she processes my words, her body responds by curving towards mine. She wants to let go for once. I know this. She knows this. She just has to decide if she’s going to allow herself that pleasure or refuse it on some higher, ridiculous moral ground.
Her fingers skim my wrist, and I remove my thumb from her mouth. Quite slowly and effortlessly, she sinks onto her knees, eyelevel with my dick. I want to drive it into her mouth, to f**k her the way I want to f**k her p**sy. She’s a virgin.
I grab a fist-full of her wet hair, the shower pelting her beautiful body in waves. Her breath deepens as she looks from me to my partially hardened cock. I rest a hand on the tiled wall.
Rose seizes my shaft with light, tender hands, so unsure of how to hold it.
“Put it in your mouth,” I urge with a deep, possessive voice.
She gives me a sharp look, one that’s ten times harder than her grip. My whole body reacts to her gaze, thrumming in pure f**king want. I enjoy how difficult she is. I stare down at her, watching as she opens her mouth wide enough to put me between her lips.
I’m not even halfway in before she stops. Her hands fall to her thighs, so uncertain again.
She tries to withdraw, and I immediately clench her hair. Her gaze is all fire, all tumultuous and hot. But it’s not a look that says stop. It’s one full of passionate, ugly, beautiful words and curses. Fuck mes mixed with a**holes and cocksuckers and hell f**king yeses.
She’s complicated. Just the way I like.
“I’m going to f**k your mouth, darling,” I say bluntly. I grip her hair harder, and her hands shoot out to my wrist.
A moan garbles in her throat, my c*ck only barely inside her mouth. She meant to threaten me, and the surprise coats her eyes at the sudden revelation. That she’s more turned on than anything.
I ease out of Rose, my c*ck popping from her lips. I keep one hand on the tiled wall but the other falls from her hair to her neck.