Making a spur of the moment decision, I hop out of the bed and drop to the floor, pounding out a round of pushups. When that doesn’t help, I switch it up to burpees.
Fifteen minutes later I’m hot, sweaty, and still have a major boner.
The shower it is, then.
Her bathroom is as rundown as the rest of the house, if immaculately clean. It’s as if, to make up for the peeling paint and the jagged tile, she’s taken her cleanliness to an almost obsessive-compulsive level.
There’s a new sunken bathtub still in the box in her biggest storage shed outside, and I make a plan to get that installed, no matter when I’m finally free of this place.
The water heater is new—I got a look at the box today in one of the sheds—and the water is scalding hot within minutes. I strip out of my boxers, letting my dick free at last, and moan when the steaming water hits my aching muscles.
I’m in great shape. But the muscle burn from the weight bench is not the same as the muscle soreness from hauling wood and using a hammer, and I’m already achy in ways I’m not accustomed to anymore. When I was a teenager, I worked on houses with my dad every summer and on school breaks. Those days are a long time gone, though.
I lean my forearm against the wall of the shower, letting the water hit my side and back. My head rests on my arm, and I spread my feet, making sure my stance is secure. Closing my eyes, pretending I’m not picturing what Shelby’s plump ass would look like peeled out of those too tight yoga pants she was wearing today, I give my cock a squeeze.
The pressure immediately ebbs, until my balls pull tight to my body and my cock swells in my hand, the need for release surging through me.
I take up a fast rhythm, stroking my cock from base to tip, letting the water pour over my arm and back. I imagine what it would feel like to have Cobra’s hand wrapped around my dick. To have her ankles crossed behind my back as I plunge my cock in and out of her pussy.
Which is the only excuse I have for not hearing the door open and silently close behind her. When the shower curtain moves, the metal-on-metal sliding noise penetrating the fog of my lust, I jump so high, my feet leave the tub, landing again in a slipping, uncoordinated drop.
“Holy shit!” I exclaim, grabbing at the shower curtain rod to right myself. She’s naked, and mother fucker my brain bleeps out as she lowers to her knees, the water beating against the back of her head. She gives herself a tiny shake, pushing her hair off her forehead, and she reaches for me, wrapping her hands around the length of my cock.
Her hands, her beautiful, petite hands, fit perfectly around my girth, and stacked pinky to thumb, cover my dick entirely. My hips thrust into her touch on instinct, my grip tightening on the curtain rod, as Shelby leans forward and gives a few tentative licks against my head.
Sweet Jesus.
Shelby looks up at me through her eyelashes, the water darkening her hair until it’s sleek and straight down her back, and she moves a hand to cup my balls, gauging my reaction for how to proceed. I groan when she tugs on my sac, my hips jerking without my consent. With the hand still wrapped around my girth she strokes me, a downward motion with every snap of my hips.
“Ahh, you’re such a good girl,” I groan, and she nods her head in agreement.
She licks at my cock like it’s a fucking popsicle, then flattens her tongue against the underside of my dick and tastes me from base to tip. My eyes roll back in my head at the sensation, and I pulse in her hand, the need to cover her with my cum undeniable. Shelby covers my cock with her mouth, pulling me deep and hollowing out her cheeks. My hand goes to the back of her head automatically, and I dig my fingers into her hair until she makes a choking noise against my dick.
“Sorry, sorry,” I pant, loosening my hold but not removing my hand.
I can feel my orgasm building at the base of my spine. My balls are tight against me, my cock swelled so round she can barely fit her mouth around me. I open my eyes and look at her, the sight of her lips spread and head bobbing against me, her arms working at my length, pushing me over the edge.
“I’m gonna come,” I spit out, but instead of stopping, she takes me deeper, and I touch the back of her throat as she swallows down my cum.
I’m trembling, unsure of how much longer my knees will support my weight, when, without saying a word, she gets up off her knees, pushes the shower curtain aside, and grabs a towel from the rack above the toilet, making her exit as quietly as she appeared.
What the fuck just happened?
Chapter 4
Shelby
I peek my head out of my bedroom, looking left and right before I leave my sanctuary.
He’s not here. Thank you, God.
Sounds like he’s outside, if the faint thunk of a hammer is any indication, and a giant wave of relief surges through me. I have no idea what came over me last night. Don’t get me wrong, it was amazing. The power it gave me was heady and addicting, but climbing into his shower with him was not on my agenda.
I blame it fully on the phone call with Seph and the hidden six pack of 99-proof single shots in my bedside table.
I probably embarrassed the crap out of him, which is why he’s outside banging on my porch while the sun has barely risen. I pull down two glasses from the cupboard and take the blender glass out of the dishwasher.
I sucked Derrick’s dick last night. Seph would be so proud.
A thrill of excitement, dangerous and naughty, zooms around my aura. I’m not a spur of the moment type of girl. Random blow jobs are definitely not my thing. Yet, when I heard the water turn on from my bedroom, and pictured his hand around his cock, the head leaking with his cum, I couldn’t think of anything else other than swallowing him down.
I’m humming to myself, replaying last night’s highlight reel and setting up my smoothie fixings, when I hear the front door slam. Then my highlight reel immediately morphs into a Sports Center compilation of worst plays in sports.
Okay. This is fine. I’ll pretend nothing happened, he’ll pretend nothing happened, and we’ll go along our merry way. Stuck in the house together for who knows how long.
Right.
I hear him making his way through the front room and turn my head to the side as he approaches the kitchen entryway. He’s shirtless. Of course, he is. Sweat coats his chest, his hair is a wavy mess, and that stupid pink irresistible toolbelt is wrapped low around his hips, teasing the hell out of me.
“So,” he says.
“Good morning!”
No, I don’t sound manic. I’m always this chipper and squeaky in the morning.
“Where did you learn to do that?” he asks me, and my irritation immediately spikes. I shoot a look at him over my shoulder, continuing to fill my blender with fruit.
Guess we’re going to jump right in it then.
“I have sucked a dick before, Derrick,” I say to him, trying to keep the duh tone out of my voice. I mean, I haven’t sucked that many, and certainly none as thick as his, but he doesn’t need to know that. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a little girl anymore.”
I give up trying to ignore him, and turn to lean my ass against the counter, arms crossed over my chest.
“Yeah,” he scoffs, rubbing at the back of his neck, “Not noticing that you’re a twelve on the babe o’meter hasn’t been the problem. The problem has been keeping from bending you over the back of that couch. Then, as soon as I convince myself that I can make it the next few weeks without tasting you, you sneak into my shower and drop to your knees.”