His voice trails, and my heart hammers in my chest while I wait for him to continue. But he doesn’t. And my mind is left to wander and replay every word, trying to figure out where he could have been going with that.
When he stands up, I let him rinse the suds from my body, but when he begins to clean himself, I grab his wrist.
“You said it was a two-way street.” And I see him start to argue, but he stops himself.
He has to bend a little to let me soap up his hair, and it makes us both laugh. I let my fingers glide slowly through the sparse strands of gray and I try to remember what it was like when I thought Emerson was so much older than me. I mean…he still is so much older, but it doesn’t feel that way anymore. That gap in our ages once felt like a wall between us, but is now gone.
After rinsing his hair, I lather his body, taking my time to learn the curves and textures of his physique. This feeling of intimacy washes over me as I explore every inch of him, not finding a single spot I don’t love. The broad slope of his shoulders. The patch of hair across his chest and the small line leading down his abs. That delicious V-shape of his hips and the thick muscles of his thighs.
This is dangerous. Getting so accustomed to his body—too attached, really. People who just have sex don’t do this. They don’t look at another person’s hands and arms and back and think this is mine.
“You’re mine to take care of too, Emerson,” I whisper as I drag the washcloth down his legs.
I’m being reckless, but my filter can only be held back so much. I just want him to know that two can play at his game. If he thinks it’s fun to toy with my emotions, then I can toy with his too.
And as I drop to my knees, like he did in front of me a moment ago, he strokes his hand over my head. I gaze up at him, and I see a hint of tension there.
“When was the last time you let someone take care of you?” I ask.
I’m not blind. I can see the way his cock is hardening right in front of my face, but I’m not paying attention to that yet. I’m still looking up at him. I need to know if Emerson acts this way around every girl he’s with, or if I’m somehow different and if any truth rings in those sweet words he tells me.
“A very long time,” he mutters, stroking my head.
“I want to take care of you,” I whisper, and I hope he knows I mean it as more than just making him come in this shower. Call it wishful thinking, but I know I’m disguising my actual feelings under promises of sex.
He blocks the shower spray from me, letting it hit his back and cascade down his body. I set the washcloth down and run my hands up his thighs, each time stopping before I reach the top. His breathing picks up as he gazes at me.
“I should be the one taking care of you,” he says, without pulling me to my feet.
“Well, maybe I want to spoil you,” I say in a light, almost joking manner. “Maybe I want to make you so dependent on me that you never want to leave me. I want to be so good for you that you keep me forever.”
Disguise those feelings, Charlie.
“Then, show me how good you can be.” With a gentle nudge, he guides his cock to my lips, and I gaze up at him as I run my tongue around the head. The feeling of butterflies assaults my insides at his words and the way he teases me with that tone.
He hums, low and gravelly, as I wrap my lips around him. I play with the head of his cock first, licking into the slit and letting my teeth graze the underside. His hips jolt forward, and I tease him a bit more before letting him slide in deeper.
Relaxing my throat, I pull him in farther and farther each time. Wrapping my hand around the base, I stroke in rhythm with my mouth, moving faster and tighter, waiting for his groans or words of praise. I’m dying to hear his pleasure.
Finally, he lets out a tight, “Oh fuck, Charlotte.”
For that, he gets a reward, and I suck even harder, giving his cock head a little more attention.
He shudders and squeezes a handful of my hair in his grasp. “Keep doing that.” So, I do, moving from the base to the head, twisting and squeezing and practically swimming in the grunts and groans of pleasure my actions are eliciting.
I reach my other hand between his legs and gently knead his sac, watching his expression change as I do. His free hand slams against the wall to hold him upright and his eyes close.
“That’s my girl,” he groans, and I light up inside.
My movements pick up speed, and I know what’s coming when his mouth falls open and his head falls back. “I’m gonna come, baby.”