Page 60 of Almost Rotten

Another wave of pleasure courses through me. I lift my fist to my mouth, choking back a groan. In doing so, I shift back too quickly and nearly lose my balance.

Grunting, I heave my shoulder against the wall to keep myself from falling and slam against the side of the shower in the process.

“Shit. Are you okay?”

Her voice is closer, the air around me cooler.

Heart hammering, I turn to take her in.

She’s pulled the shower curtain back with an extended hand, her eyes wide and her hand to her chest.

“Ty?”

“I’m fine,” I hiss, even as my shoulder burns and my cock pulsates.

Clearly I’m a masochist, because the pain makes me even hornier.

“You’re pierced?”

Fuck.

When I lift my gaze again, a thrill shoots through me. She’s not just looking. She’s fucking gaping.

Tentatively, I stroke myself once, gauging her reaction.

I go painstakingly slow, pausing on each rung of my Jacob’s ladder so she can really take it in.

As I drag my hand up, I lift, showing off the seven piercings straining against the thickness of my swelling member.

Her pupils dilate, and her mouth falls open. That crimson tell I love so much creeps from her chest to her neck to her cheeks.

She’s blushing all over. Just for me.

“What do you think?”

Eyes flitting between my face and my cock, she takes a tentative step forward. “I’ve never seen one like that. Can I touch it?”

I can’t help the fucking grin that blooms across my face.

She can tell me how much she hates me all she wants, but there’s no denying her body’s reaction to mine, or the visceral connection that keeps us tethered and yearning for more.

“Yeah, baby. You can touch it.”

She reaches out, her expression serious. Her touch is so delicate it almost tickles.

As another bead of precum forms at the slit, her tongue darts out, and she licks her lips.

Blistering heat sears me. “You like what you see, Sawyer? Are you thinking about how it’ll feel the first time I plunge into you and pull back, dragging each and every one of my piercings out of your tight pussy?”

She whimpers, then licks her lips again.

Fuckin’ A.

Goddamn all her little noises. How the hell can a whimper almost send me over the edge?

“Back up. I’m about to bust,” I warn, grasping the shower curtain.

Rather than back up and let me pull the plastic back into place, she licks her lips again, and with a hopeful glint in her eyes, asks, “On me?”