by Neve Wilder
A month before, this would have terrified me. Today, I was intrigued. And okay, a little terrified, too. Both sensations twisted around in my stomach like a Möbius strip, endless and confusing. My dick bobbed and twitched in the air, suffering none of my internal turmoil, and Eric fucking smiled like I’d answered my own question.
He repeated the motion with his finger, and I arched my brows at him to let him know what I thought about his request before making a quick circle. He shook his head and slowed the motion of his finger down. Slower.
I fixed him with a hard look a second before I complied, feeling the water sheet down with varying intensity as I did another 360, giving him plenty of opportunity to take in the sight of me twirling like a damn ballerina in a music box just for him. This time when I circled back around, he nodded, seeming satisfied as he tugged at the front of his shorts, adjusting himself so his cock lay thick and visible down the side of his thigh. Pinned in place, I guess, by his briefs.
Without taking my eyes from him, I finished what I’d intended to do before he interrupted, pumping the soap dispenser into my hand and soaping up my dick in a slow glide. His gaze went hot and dark before he slid his hand into his shorts, and fuck, I’d never had this kind of view of him before. It was mesmerizing, watching him stroke himself, getting only this frustrating glimpse of his hand moving behind his shorts and wanting desperately to see him exposed.
I got that there was some kind of exchange going on, but I wasn’t entirely sure what the parameters were. To test my theory, I stopped jacking myself.
He stopped, too.
I ran a soapy hand over my chest and pinched my nipple until my eyes watered and my chest shuddered and the skin went red and angry around it, then started stroking my cock again.
Eric pulled his shorts down a couple of inches, keeping his gaze on mine as he licked his thumb and circled the fat head of his cock with it.
Without really even thinking about what I was doing, I lowered to my knees on the floor of the shower, the tile rough and frigid on my kneecaps.
I don’t know who was more surprised, me or him, but it showed in his expression and I fucking loved it. He seemed to consider his next move before pulling his shorts back over his dick, stepping forward to the edge of the shower curb, and dropping one hand to the top of my wet head as I leaned in and pressed my face into his crotch. If I’d stopped at the moment to actually think about what the fuck I was doing, I would’ve been mortified. So I didn’t. I just fucking acted. Just did exactly what my body was aching to do.
His shorts were damp with sweat, a musky, masculine, metallic scent surrounding me as I rubbed my face against him and closed my mouth around the shape of his cockhead through the fabric, licking and sucking him through it. Eric shifted his stance, spreading his legs, letting me tease him until his dick was straining against the spit-soaked cotton before he grabbed me by the jaw and bent low to whisper in my ear. “You might be fucking crazier than me.”
No fucking surprise there. I’d clearly lost my mind the first time I invited him into my room. Unlike in the library, or at the fund-raiser, we were surrounded by people. I could hear the pattern of the water spray change as the guy in the next stall moved around, smell the waft of soapy steam, hear the booming laughter of someone out in the changing area. And I still wanted nothing more than to struggle to keep my shit together while he took me apart. Yeah, it was probably safe to say I’d fucking lost it.
Swallowing hard against the mix of fear and arousal lodged like a rock in my throat, I lifted my eyes to find Eric’s as he rose again, waiting to see what he was going to do with me now that I was on my knees.
Apparently nothing, because he hauled me up, speaking quietly in my ear again. “Didn’t tell you to do that, though it’s a sweet gesture, frat boy. I actually came in here for something else.”
It had better be to get me off, but I’d hardly even given him a questioning look before he laid his hands on my cheeks and kissed me. Soft and slow—so damn slow—a stark contrast to the way we’d come together the night before, when it’d felt more like a wreck of primal urges than sensuality. And unlike this morning’s tease, this was the full onslaught, like something you’d do while lying in bed post-fuck. Lingering and indulgent, his tongue stroking my lips, opening them to slide inside.
His fingers drifted down to my chin, pinching and guiding me like a rudder as he covered every inch of my mouth like was mapping out the damn territory. But goddamn it was a good kiss, and my whole body hummed and glowed with it.
I’d never even given that much thought to kissing, but Eric made it as sexy as anything else he did. He was like a one-man band of eroticism, and no instrument was beyond his capability. Though I thought maybe I liked his mouth the most. Not just for the way it felt on me, but for the things that came out of it. Things I’d never imagined myself wanting to hear before him. I pictured us in his bedroom, no one around. Quiet and dark. All the time in the world to explore and be explored. There were parts of him I’d not even touched, and damn did I want to now.
Some guy a couple of stalls over started singing jokingly, and a couple of other guys laughed and joined in. Eric scraped his teeth over my lower lip, bit my chin, and pulled away, taking a step back.
I caught him by the wrist and dragged him back to the edge of the shower with a shake of my head. Fuck if I was going to let him leave me in this state again.
The look he gave me was both appraising and curious at once, and then he mouthed, “Really?”
I nodded resolutely and we both stared down at the front of his shirt, damp where I’d pressed against it. He reached at the same time I did, took another step out of my reach, and peeled his clothes off, dumping them unceremoniously to the floor, along with his shoes. I watched, transfixed by his thick, bobbing cock, the sinewy definition of his abs and thighs, flushed with blood from our workout. Then, I lifted my hand and crooked my finger at him, loving the amused quirk that tipped the corners of his lips. That was the beginning and end of my demands, though, because as soon as he stepped into the shower basin, he shoved me under the spray and it was clear I was all his again.
Eric pumped the soap dispenser and lathered his hands, but instead of going for my cock or my ass like I expected, he went for my shoulders, soaping up the tight muscles, sliding his hands up and down my arms and leaving a trail of bubbles in his wake. My back, my thighs, my calves, my chest. He washed me unhurriedly, thoroughly, his gaze focused and attentive as I shifted and swayed under his caress, because God it was good. Firm and tantalizing at once. A different flavor of encounter, but still just as sexy.
When he finally got around to my cock, I was so blissed-out and relaxed that instead of a jolt of arousal, a slow, mellow warmth began building inside me as he stroked his hand up and down my shaft. Just when I’d start to buck into his hand, he’d lower it to my balls, tug and massage them in his slick grip, or run his fingers down my crack and tease my hole, pressing his finger against the muscle until it gave and let him in. And then he’d be gone again.
Eric’s dick bobbed against mine, and eventually, he took us both in hand, the soft friction of his cockhead combined with the tightness of his grip driving me crazy. My breaths deepened with the effort to keep quiet, my mouth falling open as he pushed and pulled and tugged me ever closer to the edge. He leaned in, licking a hot stripe up my throat and sucking on my lower lip and was in my ear again before I could capture his mouth with my own.
“Think you can be quiet if I pound that hole raw?”
I nodded, reaching between us to pinch my dick and stave off the surge of arousal brought on by those words and imagining Eric fucking me right here with God knew who else five feet from us. When he leaned back, I could tell he had his doubts. His doubts could suck it. I could do this.
Probably.
I started to turn and put my hands against the wall, but he grabbed me by the shoulder and cranked me back around, pressing in close against me as he ran his hands down my
arms.
“No lube. Gonna fix that.” He spoke quietly into my ear, then cut me a wicked smile and dropped to his knees in front of me, taking my dick in his mouth so fast I didn’t even have time to appreciate the sight of his lips wrapping me before my vision sheeted white.
He sucked me hard and fast, no fucking around, flicking his tongue mercilessly against my head, driving it into my slit while his hand pumped my base. My molars ground together as I tried to stay quiet, my chest rising and falling and my heart pounding so fast and hard I heard it in my ears. Pleasure roared wild through me in hard, endless streaks, assaulting me from all sides as he tugged on my balls.
Pushing a wet finger into my hole, Eric worked me open with shallow thrusts until I was shaking, then slowed down, stopped taking me all the way to the back of his throat, and rubbed his lips around my head, instead. Over and over, the friction concentrated and intense, velvety hot and hard at the same time.
My mouth dropped open in soundless gasps, and my stomach muscles contracted with the force of trying not to moan or whimper. I dug my fingers into the meat of his shoulders so deep there was no doubt I was leaving marks, and he didn’t even flinch.
My balls tightened up, and Eric took me deep in one long stroke as I unleashed with a full-body shiver. He sucked me through it, turned me inside out and kept going until I was shaking and shoved him away from my sensitive head. My cheek hit the cold tile wall with a light smack as Eric manhandled me into it. Then he stretched my arms out over my head, yanked my hips back, and bent me over.
He pulled my cheeks apart and opened me with his thumbs; then came the warm hit of his lips and a flood of heat. Oh sweet fucking goddamn. I understood then what he was doing, and my dick started twitching all over again. My own jizz coated my hole, slid down my legs, and the idea that he was going to use my load as lube felt so fucking dirty and hot at the same time that I had to sink my teeth hard into my lower lip to stave off a moan.
Eric gripped my asscheek with bruising firmness, and I knew he wished he could smack it like he had the other night, but that was a no go in an echoey shower stall. So instead, he was gonna brand me with his fingertips. Unsurprisingly, I was down for that.
The tip of his cock pushed inside me a second later. Just him, no barrier. Just his hot skin gliding against mine as I gulped air and scrabbled for purchase against the wall. In one smooth stroke that had me grinding my teeth, Eric buried his cock so deep I could feel the quiver of satisfaction that ran through his body like it was my own.
He closed his hand around the back of my neck, holding fast as he fucked me, and I loved every second of it. The control in the near-silent glide of his body, the way each thrust forced me onto the balls of my feet and made me tense my thighs to stay balanced. I wasn’t even sure how the fuck he was managing to be so quiet until I twisted a look over my shoulder and caught his expression. Taut and strained with how he was holding back, his lips pressed together and rolled inward, pale with the pressure. His glassy-eyed gaze focused on my ass as he pumped in and out of it. I locked eyes with him in a silent, desperate exchange, and he slid his hand from my neck down my arm, yanking me upright to close his fist around my dick again.
I jerked—too much intensity too soon after I’d blown my load—but when I pulled his hand away, Eric came right back, pressing insistently into me and speaking softly in my ear.
“You’ve got another one in you, and I want it. Gonna fuck you ’til I get it.”
He slammed into me hard at the same time he gloved my dick with his hand, and I cried out, shouted, whatever; I made enough noise in protest of the pairing of pleasure and pain that Eric clapped a hand over my mouth and hissed in my ear just as someone the next stall over called out.
“Okay over there, dude?”
We both froze. Eric’s hand slid from my mouth to my throat, a firm, warm assurance as he spoke. “Banged my head on the dispenser.”
“Done that before. Sucks. Just checking.”
“S’allgood,” Eric slurred out.
Against my back, his shoulders started shaking with laughter.
His soundless laughter set off mine, and that might’ve been the bigger challenge than staying quiet while he was fucking me, because I couldn’t seem to stop once I got started. It was like an amped-up version of what happened in a church or in a big lecture class sometimes: that near-hysterical rush of emotion looking for release in all the wrong places. My chest heaved and my stomach ached with it.
Eric squeezed my biceps and slipped from my ass, guiding me around to face him, and that was what finally settled me. Because he’d stopped laughing and was now looking at me with a mixture of amusement and concern that was too damn close to what’d happened before outside with all the safe-word talk and weird consideration for my well-being—like he was fucking rethinking what he was doing. And I definitely didn’t want that.
I gave him a pointed look, grabbed his dick, and tried to awkwardly and ineffectively cram it back inside me until he took over, nudging my shoulder and reaching behind my knee so I’d lift it and plant it on the bench just outside the stall. I didn’t know how I felt about revisiting face-to-face fucking, especially when the way he was looking at me was so goddamn fervent, but apparently my body had no qualms, because the second he coated his cock in spit and nudged my hole again, I instinctively tried to spear myself on it.
He went slow, trailing his fingertips over my ribs, then grasping my hips, sliding inside of me, then all the way out, letting his head glide along my balls and my hole before he’d reach down and push himself inside again. His gaze flicked between my stiff dick and my eyes, and I got the sense he was gauging my reactions as he thrust. Something about that made me feel more vulnerable than the first time in my room when he’d had me on my back, more vulnerable than at the fund-raiser when I’d been standing in front of him. This was usually the point where I’d shutter my eyes against it, mentally check out, and let the sizzle of pleasure move through me as my orgasm mounted.
This time I fought against it, kept my gaze on Eric as he fucked me, and it was like he was everywhere. Inside me and outside, this acute awareness of every point of contact between our bodies, his cock owning my ass, his gaze enveloping me and drawing me into a universe that existed solely of him and me. I knotted my fingers in the wet ends of his hair and held on for dear life, expecting him to pick up speed at any second and rail the hell out of me. But he just kept up that steady glide, like he was rocking me in increments closer to orgasm, and then he put his lips right to my ear so I could hear each shallow inhale and exhale, the jumble of syllables that tried to become words and failed. I caught the meaning anyway; it was the sound of desire, the sound of how fucking good we were making each other feel.
Instead of hurtling toward ecstasy, I coasted on the sensations moving through me, and the realization hit me square between the eyes—always fucking inconvenient in timing, because it almost floored me how much I liked him, how much I wanted him. Not just the fucking, but everything that came along with it. The way he read me, seeming to always know exactly what I needed and how to give it to me. I wondered if I did the same for him.
Eric’s grip around my neck tightened, and he shifted, sucking in a deep breath. This time when he spoke, it was 100 percent coherent. “You’re gonna come for me again, and then I’m gonna pump that tight hole full of my jizz so the rest of the day when you’re walking around, you’ll feel me.”
I didn’t believe him. About the orgasm part at least. The latter part had my hips rocking harder against his as he grazed my prostate, because I wanted that, wanted to feel him shooting deep in me, dribbling down my thighs when I walked.
My entire body was overly sensitized. Even his hands on me burned as much as they soothed. Every caress bruised, and when he fisted my cock, I tried to flinch away from the friction, but just as before, he held on until irritation ceded to prickling pleasure that took flight and soared through me unexpectedly.
I pulled the ends o
f his hair, chasing the reluctant orgasm until suddenly it was right there and I came hard and fast, shooting over both of us, breathing heavily through my nose. A split-second grin of satisfaction gave way to bared teeth as Eric grabbed my hips and buried himself deep inside me. And fuck, I felt it, pulsing out of him and into me, thick and hot, coating my channel as he dropped his head to my shoulder and trapped his moan against my wet skin.
We slumped against each other, panting openmouthed until my legs threatened to give out and I dropped onto the bench. Eric stepped under the showerhead, then eased down next to me a few seconds later.
Resting our heads back against the wall in silence, we listened to the sounds of the locker room. When I glanced over, his eyes were shut, a peaceful slackness to his features as he dropped one hand to my thigh heavily and swept his thumb over my quad in gentle arcs.
I wanted to talk like we usually did. Joke and banter and mess with each other, but that was impossible, and after a few minutes, and with one last squeeze to my thigh, Eric stood up, shook his arms and legs out, then bent over and gathered up his clothes. Me? I was gonna need a few more minutes to recover.
He turned back around to face me, tucking his clothes and shoes under one arm as he studied me, then mouthed, “You good?”
I gestured lazily to my spent cock, the jizz scattered over my stomach and thighs, and gave him the A-OK sign along with a sarcastic smile that made him grin. I was more than good; I was light-headed with post-fuck euphoria.
Eric was still grinning when he snatched my fucking towel from the hook and sauntered out with it.
Figured.
I rested my elbows on my knees and leaned to rummage through my bag and pull out my phone to check the time. No surprise, I was forty-five minutes late for the chapter meeting, totally screwed in more ways than one.
I was also starving. So I decided fuck it. After I finished dressing, I caught up to Eric outside the gym and we stopped in the student center cafeteria and grabbed a bite.