Sweet as Honey (Aster Valley 2)

I strode over to him slowly enough to give him fair warning of my approach. “But I am worried about your underwear. Especially since I was the cause of its recent besmirching.”

His jaw dropped down, and I laughed.

“C’mere,” I murmured, pulling him close again so I could pull the shirt off his shoulders and undo his jeans. “I want to see the undies I ruined.”

I could feel him getting hard again which reminded me how young he was. Shower sex seemed like a really good idea right about now.

“Let me wash you off,” I offered again. “It’s my mess. I should be the one to clean it.”

Truman groaned. “Why do you make that sound so sexy?”

I pulled his jeans down to reveal a tiny pair of camouflage boy shorts.

“My, my,” I purred, running a fingertip under the edge of his waistband. “Aren’t these nice?”

The wet sticky front of the shorts moved. “You’re killing me,” he said.

I slid my hand over his cheek and pulled him in for a kiss. “If this is too much, I’ll go.”

Truman shook his head. “Not too much.”

I distracted him with kisses as I moved us both toward the bathroom. It was surprisingly large and modern inside, but I didn’t waste time wondering about farmhouse renovations. I simply turned on the water in the walk-in shower and kept kissing him as I peeled my own clothes off.

“It’s not fair,” Truman complained as I reached for his dark-framed glasses. “You’re all fit and strong, and I’m…”

“Hot, sexy, beautiful, perfect,” I suggested, setting the frames on the bathroom counter. “Young, fit, luminous, magnetic… hot.”

“In the bathroom with a liar,” he finished with a laugh. But I could see my words pleased him even if he didn’t believe them to be true. And that was all I could ask for.

Truman stared at my dick after I stripped out of my boxer briefs. I wasn’t shy at all, so his attention only made me harder.

“Well,” he said nervously. “There’s… that.”

He was nervous enough about my dick to pretty much confirm his virgin status. “That isn’t going to do anything you don’t want it to do,” I assured him. “I’m just here to wash the merchandise, sir.”

He let out a relieved laugh. “It’s not that I don’t want… that… to do things. But I—”

“It’s okay,” I said, reaching for his own underwear. “I promise.”

He let me strip the sticky pants off him and toss them aside. His pubic hair was the same kind of dark riot of curls I’d imagined, and his dick made my mouth water. “This might require extra special cleaning,” I informed him. “I’m nothing if not thorough and dedicated.”

His easy smile made me feel almost giddy. Had I known I could make this sweet man happy by joking around a little, I’d have tried it sooner.

We got into the shower and rinsed off, barely removing our hands from each other’s bodies enough to grab soap and shampoo. The warm slick slide of Truman’s body against mine was enough to make me wish he had a limitless hot water heater so I could spend the rest of my days wrapped around him like this.

We kissed and fondled each other lazily as the hot spray thundered around us. I finally dropped to my knees and looked up at him with a question in my eyes.

Can I please suck you off?

He nodded and bit his lip again. Fuck, what that did to me.

I began with long wide licks, watching his eyes for any sign of nerves or discomfort.

There were none.

When I sucked the head into my mouth and curled my tongue around it, Truman’s hands landed in my hair, and he held on tight. Within moments he was gasping and spluttering, practically choking on shower water. I moved him away from the spray and doubled down on my efforts. I clasped his balls and ran a strong fingertip behind them, loving the way Truman’s slim thigh muscles contracted as he fought to keep his balance.

His hands tightened in my hair, and his breathing lost its rhythm. His dick oozed salty precum that mixed with the water from his body. It was erotic as hell, enough to make me take myself in hand and jack off to the sounds of his pleasure.

When he cried out and shot into my mouth, it was fucking fantastic. I shot my own release all over the shower floor a few moments later as Truman’s body was still shuddering from his orgasm.

This man was dangerous to my self-control. And I knew if I didn’t get the hell out of here, I’d keep touching him, keep pushing him, until we did something he wasn’t ready for.

I quickly finished washing us both off and bundled him into one of the large towels hanging on a nearby bar. With a clearer head, I finally noticed how tidy the bathroom was and how each product was in unlabeled glass pots or jars. I wondered if he only used items he’d made himself. It would explain why he smelled like actual sun-ripened cherries—different than the artificial cherry smell in store-bought products.