between my legs. I was panting by the time he nudged me forward, under the spray.
It wasn’t fair to compare two men, but Vic and Carter were there, in my mind, almost constantly. And Vic never made love to me like this. Carter worshiped me in that shower. He took his time, his fingers gentle, running over every bit of me, his mouth constantly on mine, or on my skin. He sat me down on the bench and knelt before me, his hot mouth settling in between my legs, his total attention on me.
I was close to coming when he stood up, and HARD was not enough of a description for his cock. Good Lord. Talk about absolute beauty. It stuck straight out and I reached for it, missing. “Wait,” he breathed, his hand yanking the handheld attachment off the wall and rolling the control left, adjusting the spray until it gently pulsed and then he knelt, holding it in between my legs, adjusting the angle and the setting until I gasped. “Right there?” he asked, his eyes on mine, concentration lining his face.
“Yes.” The word hiccupped out of me, the water pulsing on my clit, a drumming patter of liquid that already had my thighs tightening. My eyes followed Carter as he stood back up and put his hands on the back of my head, his cock at a perfect level for what was next.
“Please,” he asked and, really, it was a waste of a word. I grabbed at his waist, pulling him forward and, for the first time, put him in my mouth.
I saw a video once on giving a grapefruit blowjob. It was mind-blowing. Quite possibly the best thing I had ever seen. I didn’t have a grapefruit in Carter’s shower but if I had, I’d have squeegeed the hell out of his perfect, delicious dick with that grapefruit.
So, I had no grapefruit, and I was a little distracted by the water’s stream, a mind-blowing orgasm lifting me off the bench mid-blowjob. But I don’t think Carter minded. In fact, right after I came, he pulled out of my mouth, his breath hard, a moment of pause between us, before he offered it back. “I don’t want to come,” he swore, “but fuck you give amazing head.”
That’s right, bitches. I couldn’t balance my checkbook and didn’t know the capital of Iowa but I apparently gave amazing head. I could die a happy sexpot. I contained my pride and resumed my incredible blowjob skills. And a few minutes later, he knelt back down, pulling me to the edge of the bench, and put that gorgeous cock inside of me. I wrapped my legs around him but he pulled them off. Lifted my feet and put them flat on the bench, so I looked like some squatting catcher but when he pushed back in, I understood the change in position. I also understood that he was a sexual freak of nature, and I should never ever ever ever let him go.
“Can I—?” he gasped out the words and I understood the question.
“Yes.” I grabbed him, held him close, suddenly frantic for him to come inside me. He pushed deeper, groaning when he came, his grip almost painful on my skin. When he finished, he sank against the wall and turned to me, his eyes heavy, his hand reaching out and he pulled me to my feet and against his chest. “Fuck,” he mumbled, pressing his mouth to the top of my wet head. “That was insane.”
I didn’t have enough intelligent thought to form a response, just smiled against his chest, placing a kiss on his skin. We moved out of the shower and he dried me off, then lifted me, carrying me to his bed and dropping me onto the covers. I rolled over, keeping the towel with me, and watched him, studiously avoiding the giant canvas stretched above my head. Now that I knew his connection to Presa Little, his art collection was no longer impressive. Now, it was just a reminder of their relationship.
It wasn’t my place to ask him to take it down. I knew that. Especially not at this stage of whatever we were. Still, the thought of it being the first and last thing he saw every day irked me. “Have you ever thought about selling these?” I waved a hand in the general direction of the masterpiece above the bed.
Carter chuckled, pulling open a dresser drawer and taking out a white T-shirt, tossing