The Shepherd (The Game 6)

I shook my head, amused. “You’ve stalked me way too much.”

“Researched,” he corrected. “And technically, I researched your family’s accounts.”

Oh, well then.

CHAPTER 8

“You’re gonna make me fall asleep,” I muttered drowsily.

Why had I never moved a chair into my shower before? I felt like a fucking king here, leaning back comfortably, legs stretched out lazily, hot water raining down on the lowest setting, and Archie’s magic fingers shampooing my hair.

I’d never been happier about the size of my shower.

“I definitely won’t fall asleep,” he murmured. “I can’t stop gawking at your body. I want to worship every inch.”

I drew a deep breath, letting the ego boost course through me, and lolled my head back. “No one’s stopping you.”

He didn’t need further instructions. While he kept his fingers in my hair, he straddled my lap and started kissing my neck. I groaned at the pleasure of feeling his weight on me, and I had to touch him.

We kinda did our own thing in between kisses. He massaged my scalp and nuzzled my neck. I kissed his shoulders and squeezed his ass cheeks roughly in my hands. He increased the water pressure to wash away the shampoo, and I contemplated what I could use as lube in my modest selection of shower products.

The answer was nothing, but I kept a bottle of almond oil around.

“Get the almond oil from the cabinet over the sink,” I commanded quietly.

“Right away, Sir,” he said, a little out of breath, and opened the shower door.

The chill in the air that blew in made me shudder.

I watched him in the meantime, and I poured body wash into my hand and began rubbing it into my chest. Down to my stomach, then my cock and balls. His ass was out of this damn world.

“If we fuck before bed, it’s important you clean up right after,” I said. “Chances are I’ll wanna wake up and tongue-fuck you in the morning.”

He tossed me a sly look over his shoulder, and he went even further. Standing in front of the sink, he slipped a hand down to his ass and squeezed a little. Fingers dipped deeper, and I scraped my teeth across my bottom lip and stroked my cock to the sight of him pressing two digits inside himself.

“This ass, Sir?”

I nodded slowly. “Get back here and sit on me.”

The suds washed away fast, and I was more than ready for him when he returned to me.

“Turn around and let me see you prepare yourself,” I told him. “Two fingers, plenty of oil.”

He did as told and planted his feet on either side of my outstretched legs. Then he brought his slicked-up fingers to his ass, bent over a bit, and rubbed his asshole seductively. Hell, maybe he didn’t need to get waxed. He barely had any hair.

“Jesus.” I edged my cock harder and squeezed out some pre-come as he teased me. The bottle of oil ended up on the corner shelf so he could use both hands, and he spread his cheeks to give me a proper view. “Fucking flawless, boy. How badly do you want my cock in there?”

“So much, Sir,” he moaned. He was getting off on fingering himself. “I’ve lost count of the times I’ve fantasized about you playing with me. Taking me hard, forcefully, day and night, whenever the mood strikes.”

I leaned forward and stroked my thumb over his opening, to which he removed his fingers and focused on keeping his cheeks parted.

“You want me to use you whenever I please?” I asked.

He nodded quickly, then groaned when I pushed my thumb inside. “Whenever, however. Please, Sir.”

Yeah, I couldn’t wait any longer. I couldn’t sit down any longer either. I pushed back the chair as I stood up, and I told him to brace himself against the wall.

“This might hurt, little one.” I pressed him harder against the wall, guided my cock to his ass, and pushed forward. Fuck me, fucking fuck. I groaned and buried myself in one single thrust, and I couldn’t fucking believe the sheer pleasure.

His light, breathless cry pierced right through me and filled me with the urge to own and control. To put my desires before his and just take everything he offered.

“Is this how you want me to use you?” I grunted. “Fuck you hard before you’ve adjusted to my cock?”

“Yes,” he groaned. “Let me suffer for you, Sir. Please. I’ll do anything to be perfect for you.”

Let me suffer for you.

And he wasn’t a masochist?

With a firm grip on his hip and his shoulder, I pulled out and pushed right back in, and I didn’t stop. I wanted his moans and gasps to bounce off the walls until my ears hurt.

“I’ll put you through slave training.” I kept my stare fixed on where my cock went in and out of him. “You’ll be whatever I tell you to be, whether it’s my hungry ass-slut or my lovely boy.”