Everything for You (Bergman Brothers #5)(95)

Backing up toward the built-in shower bench, Gavin pulls me with him. Once he’s lowered himself down, he leans in, kisses my hip, my stomach. He wraps his hand around the base of my cock and pumps me, firm and leisurely.

“Shit,” I mutter.

He smiles, sucks the tip, takes me deep, then deeper still. I sink my hands into his hair, throwing my head back as he sucks me off expertly, his mouth tight and hot and wet, his hand teasing me lower, sliding back, further back, until I feel him rubbing me where a thousand nerve endings spark to life.

I gasp as time becomes as hazy as the air around us, as he swirls and strokes with his fingers, as his mouth’s grip grows hotter, tighter. I feel my knees about to buckle, orgasm tingling low at the base of my spine, tightening my balls, swelling my cock. “Gonna come,” I whisper.

He pops off his mouth, making me moan helplessly. Grinning, he spins me around so I face away from him. “Hands on the wall,” he commands, pressing my lower back until I bend forward, showing me what he wants.

“Yeah,” I beg, realizing what’s coming, splaying my hands on the tile walls, looking at him over my shoulder. “Please. Now.”

“Easy.” He kisses my hip, one ass cheek, then the other, before he splays me wide, blows a soft warm breath over where I’m so sensitive, exposed fully for him. It makes a shiver run up my spine, threatens to make my legs buckle again. “Fuck,” he groans. “Look at you. What a lucky man I am.”

Sitting on the bench, he can easily set his mouth exactly where I need him. And he does.

A shout bursts out of me as I feel his tongue, a thousand times better than his finger, stroking, flicking, making my hips roll, need tighten my body. I hear the snap of a cap being opened before his finger breaches my body’s resistance, his tongue coaxing me still. Then another finger. It burns but only faintly in the wake of all this pleasure. I reach for my cock, needing to give myself relief, but his hand lands softly on my ass, a teasing, gloriously pleasurable swat that warms my skin. “Not yet,” he says.

“I need it,” I groan.

“I know what you need. Be patient.”

I nod, leaning into it, sighing as he adds a third finger, as his other hand slides up my back, comforting me, then wraps around my chest and teases the small sensitive peaks of my nipples, before it lowers to my stomach which dances under his touch, lower still, until he’s working me in his hand again, water making it glide, frictionless and blissful.

“There you are,” he says quietly, kissing my ass, biting it softly. “The bed,” he growls. “Now.”

I wrench open the shower door and stumble forward, then reach for the towels. I throw one at him, hastily drag one down my body, too. Gavin pushes off the bench, like on the stairs, stiff and careful, and stalks toward me, a slow, hungry smile as he bites his lip and grips me by the arm, pulling me close.

He kisses me deeply with a slick, wicked tease of his tongue. Breathing harshly, he wraps the towel around my back and dries my skin. I dry him, too, between kisses, quick, half-assed in my efforts to actually get us dry, before we drop the towels and kiss our way into the room, until the backs of my knees hit the mattress.

Smiling coyly, Gavin gently shoves me until I flop back on the bed. I stare up at him, breathing unsteadily, and feel a smile that matches his warm my face.

“You.” Shaking his head, he rakes a hand through his hair. “You are going to be the death of me.”

“I better not be. Then who would I torture with my incredible dance moves and technicolor wardrobe?”

I watch him as he strolls toward his bag, which sits on the dresser. He unzips it, slaps it wide open from the inside. I stare at his gorgeous, powerful body. Big round shoulders, sculpted arms, broad chest. That round, hard ass and deep divots at his hips. Thick, chiseled thighs and sturdy calves. “Enjoying the view?” he throws over his shoulder.

I set my hands behind my head, propping myself on a pillow. “Immensely. Your ass needs its own zip code.”

“Oi. It’s proportional to the rest of me.” He tosses the bottle of lube my way.

I catch it and blush. “Someone was confident he’d get a warm reception.”

“I’ll be getting a warm reception all right,” he says, condoms landing in a gold-foil heap on my lap next. Slowly, he eases onto the bed beside me. I turn and face him as he tugs me close.

Our eyes search each other as he runs his hand down my arm, my ass, and pulls me tighter against him. We kiss, his hand wandering me, touching me there, coaxing me, making me ache until I’m begging nonsensical things.

Suddenly, he winces. I set my hand on his arm, stroking his warm skin. “We can stop any time. I don’t want it to hurt.”

He holds my eyes, quiet as he grips my hand, brings it to his mouth, and kisses my knuckles. “I know you don’t.”

He swallows thickly, holding my hand to his mouth. That’s when I feel the first warm, wet tear.

Moving even closer, I wrap my arms around him. “Talk to me,” I tell him.

He buries his face in my neck, breathing unsteadily. When he pulls back and holds my eyes, his are wet, glistening. “I never… I’ve never been…”

Safe. Seen. Loved. Not like this.

I feel the words he struggles to say, mirrored in my heart. “Me neither.” I kiss him softly. “But you are now. We both are.”