Through A Glass, Darkly (The Assassins of Youth MC #1)(37)
Although it was distasteful, him using the name “Chiles” in the same sentence that he praised me, I was flattered, and nervously squeezed soap onto the pouf. Gideon’s hand shot out, gripped my wrist, and his other hand tossed the sponge into the water. His look was intent as he wound his fingers around my neck and pulled me to him. Suddenly we were kissing, brazenly, openly. It was brazen even though I’d locked the door to protect Gideon’s privacy.
The forbidden quality of the kiss sent a chill down my spine, stiffening my nipples. I had to grip Gideon’s shoulder to prevent myself from plunging into the steaming water along with him, although that wasn’t a bad idea. I felt like his lover as he gently kissed me, slipping his tongue between my lips, tickling them with his tongue-tip. Sighing into his mouth, I smacked on his delicious, bow-shaped lips. I pressed the cleft of his chin with my thumb. I’d never kissed a man so beautiful before, and it was like kissing an angel.
But the water was going to get cold, so I had to pull away, touching my nose to his with great love and affection. I wondered how he felt about me. He must love me in some way, to want to take me away from this place.
I whispered, “She was a fool, and so am I, and so is anyone who thinks he sees what God is doing.”
He wouldn’t let me sit back up. He cradled my face in his palm, smiling that sort of idiotic smile that lovers do. “Another one of your poets?”
“No. Kurt Vonnegut.”
“Well. I don’t agree. Not after what I experienced while dead.”
I pulled back fully now, mock slapping him on the shoulder. “You weren’t dead! You were merely visiting the other side for a short while.”
“Yeah. And talking to Albert Einstein.”
“I’m sure your guardian angel is equally as intelligent as Einstein. They all are. That’s how they get to be guardian angels. And you can’t remember what was said because the veil is dropped when you wake up on this side. It’s dropped for a very good reason. We’d be overwhelmed with afterlife knowledge and unable to function here.” I picked up the purple pouf from where it floated between Gideon’s thighs. His pole, although unused for a week that I knew of and afflicted with the same pains and agonies as his torso, was now hardening, poking its length out of the water. It must be so difficult for men, unable to contain or control how their emotions affect their penises. I snuck a few glances at the shiny mushroom head.
I started by socking the sponge in and out of his underarms, using a dipper to rinse him off. He allowed me to bathe him wordlessly, never taking his eyes off my face. I lingered bathing the back of his neck, corded with masculine strength. Washing his chest was sheer bliss, although I wanted to throw the sponge away and feel his pectorals with my hands.
When I plunged the violet sponge underwater to boldly wash his thighs, again he grabbed my wrist. He held the sponge closely to his upper thigh so I couldn’t move it back and forth to scrub him.
In a new low, almost dangerous voice, he asked me, “What are your intentions with me? Am I only a savior for you? Would you run away with anyone else who offered?”
“No!” I cried immediately. How could he think that? I stumbled over my own words in my attempt to make myself clear. “Not at all, Gideon! It’s you, you who I want, not anyone else. I wouldn’t do this with just anyone! Hell, I wouldn’t even sit by just anyone’s bedside, even if they saved my worthless life. It’s you, Gideon, you and you alone who I want.”
A smile flitted over his gorgeous mouth then. His hand that gripped my wrist moved, sliding the sponge closer to his testicles. “All right, then. I’ll allow you to service me, to show your devotion.” He released my wrist, but I got the picture. I couldn’t blot out the smile that appeared on my face as I sponged his balls under the water, then boldly moved up to wash the cock, the mons pubis. I became more brave and confident as I went, it having been five plus years since I’d touched another man’s pole. It twitched underneath my sponge, hardening, lengthening. I enjoyed rolling it between the plastic mesh of the sponge and his upthrust mons.
But I maintained his gaze the entire time, as if this was something I did every day. Soon I was socking the pouf fearlessly between his thighs, underneath his ball sac, while his hard penis poked out of the water.
He spread this thighs brazenly, taking his eyes off mine only to admire his own masculinity. The length and breadth of his pole far exceeded that of my first husband’s. I’d seen and felt a few others while fumbling around in darkened cars as a teen, and Gideon’s size was far superior to any of them. Maybe that’s why he wanted to admire himself, and I can’t blame him, really. He ran both of his arms outside the tub so he could hoist his hips in the air, completely out of the water.
I was afraid for his stitches, holding himself up like this, but his meaning was clear. I wasn’t coy at all as I let the sponge plop in the water and I grabbed his pole assertively in one fist. Instantly his hips shuddered, and I knew a long, cold, nipple-hardening chill was rolling up his spine, too.
His head lolled back loosely as he groaned. “Ah, good. That’s so f*cking good, Mahalia. You know how to touch me.”
Do I? I’ve barely touched any men in my life at all! But I didn’t want to admit such embarrassing facts, so I proceeded to masturbate the thick bull’s penis, relying on his reactions to gauge how well I was doing.