Page 29 of Chained By Fate (Dark Billionaires: Vegas #1)
But it was too late. With deft movements born from years of decisiveness, Matt stripped Andy, and the young man stood naked and flushed, glaring daggers at him.
“This isn’t funny!” Andy snapped.
Matt’s own clothes hit the floor in quick succession, revealing his already hard cock. He stepped into the shower cubicle and turned on the water, steam filling the room almost instantly.
Andy’s eyes widened as he took in Matt’s arousal. “I’m not taking a shower with you when you’re like that!”
Matt chuckled, the sound rich and warm against the patter of the shower. “You see, pet, it’s all because of you,” he murmured, pulling Andy into the embrace of his arms and the cascade of warm water. “You should take responsibility.”
Andy squirmed in his grip, but there was no real fight in him, just that delicious fire Matt adored. “How the hell am I responsible for your?—”
His words were cut off as Matt captured his lips with his own, silencing him with a kiss that was as commanding as it was sensual.
The water streamed over them, mingling with their breaths, creating a cocoon that held nothing but their entwined forms. Matt savored the taste of Andy’s mouth, sweet with the lingering flavor of dinner and rich with the heady spice that was uniquely Andy.
Andy’s lips moved against his in protest, but Matt deepened the kiss, coaxing him into submission.
He teased at those defiant lips with his tongue, coaxing them to part further, exploring every inch of Andy’s mouth as if it were a treasure trove he had just discovered.
The kiss was a masterful dance of push and pull, give and take—a symphony of desire played out in the heated space between them.
Matt’s hands roamed over Andy’s wet skin, feeling the taut muscles beneath and the shivers that coursed through him.
He could sense Andy’s reluctant surrender, the way his body responded even as his mind rebelled.
When Matt finally released Andy’s lips, they were both breathless, their chests heaving in unison. Water sluiced down Andy’s face, droplets clinging to his eyelashes like morning dew.
“I’m still sore, remember?” Andy gasped out, eyes half-lidded but sparkling with that ever-present challenge.
Matt’s lips curled into a wicked smile. “There are other ways my lover boy can please me.”
Andy’s eyes widened in alarm. “Oh please, not my thighs again,” he blurted out.
Matt chuckled darkly, leaning in to nip at Andy’s earlobe before whispering against his skin. “Tempting,” he admitted, savoring the way Andy shivered at the contact. “But no.”
The steam swirled around them, a veil that made the world beyond the glass cubicle fade into insignificance.
Matt’s gaze lingered on Andy, taking in every detail of his flushed skin and the way droplets of water trailed down his chest. His hand, with a mind of its own, strayed southward to where Andy’s cock stood proudly, betraying his protests with its eagerness.
But before Matt’s fingers could wrap around the tempting heat, Andy’s hand shot out, catching his wrist. “It’s tender,” Andy protested, his voice a mix of annoyance and a breathlessness that betrayed his desire. “You’re banned from touching me there. And my nipples—off-limits until further notice.”
Matt chuckled at the decree, unable to resist teasing. “Then how do you propose to find release when you’re this hard?” His thumb brushed against the back of Andy’s hand in a light caress, enjoying the tension in their locked grip.
Andy’s eyes flared with indignation, a rosy hue spreading across his cheeks. “I’ll deal with it myself,” he asserted.
An idea sparked to life in Matt’s head—a vision so delicious he couldn’t help but voice it. “Show me,” he dared.
The red in Andy’s face deepened to crimson. “I’m not going to masturbate in front of you,” he spat out. The words came fast and furious, like bullets from a gun. “Remember my manifesto—nothing I don’t want.”
Matt sighed theatrically but couldn’t shake the thought that one day soon he’d see Andy pleasuring himself. The mere idea was erotic enough to make his own arousal throb with renewed vigor.
Andy spun around to face him, eyes narrowing into slits as he caught the change in Matt’s demeanor. “Did you just imagine something weird?” he accused.
Matt couldn’t help but admit the truth with a smirk playing on his lips. “Guilty as charged.”
“You’re impossible,” Andy grumbled, but there was no real venom behind his words—more like exasperated affection laced with reluctant arousal.
Leaning in even closer, Matt whispered against the shell of Andy’s ear. “I’ll be gentle,” he promised.
Andy met his gaze head-on, defiance unwavering. “I don’t trust you,” he replied without missing a beat.
Matt could feel the stubborn resistance emanating from Andy like steam from the hot water cascading down on them. “If I get too rough, just say the word and I’ll stop,” he assured, his voice as smooth as the marble walls surrounding them.
Andy let out a huff, his expression one of a cat that had been bathed against its will.
But he gave in, and Matt wasted no time.
His hand wrapped around Andy’s cock with a reverence reserved for sacred artifacts, his touch light and worshipful.
He started to stroke slowly, savoring the feel of him in his hand, the silken skin sliding easily with the help of the shower’s embrace.
Matt watched as Andy’s resistance melted away like sugar in tea, his eyelids fluttering shut and a sigh escaping his lips. With every gentle pull, Andy’s breath hitched, and Matt felt a surge of triumph at each whispered moan that slipped from those petulant lips.
He kissed Andy then, under the torrent of warm water, their mouths mingling with a hunger that belied the tenderness of his touch below. He could feel Andy’s pleasure building—a crescendo that resonated in the small space between their pressed bodies.
Matt’s eyes never left Andy’s face, watching every flicker of pleasure that danced across his features—each one a note in the symphony he was composing with his hands.
Then, seizing an opportune moment, Matt captured Andy’s hand and guided it toward himself. “Your turn,” he murmured against Andy’s mouth.
Andy hesitated—a momentary flicker of uncertainty crossing his features—but intrigue soon won over. His hand wrapped around Matt’s arousal tentatively at first but grew bolder with each stroke. “Jesus, you’re huge,” Andy breathed out, an edge of awe lacing his words.
The compliment struck a chord within Matt—a primal satisfaction that rumbled through him like thunder.
He groaned as Andy’s fingers explored him with a hesitant curiosity that soon turned to confidence.
Being stroked by Andy was nothing short of divine torture—the kind that he would willingly endure for hours on end.
They took their time under the steam and spray until finally, with a slow and steady rhythm maintained by Matt’s hand, Andy came undone. He shuddered in pleasure, his body tensing and then releasing in waves that seemed to ripple through Matt as well.
Leaning close to Andy’s ear as their breathing began to steady, Matt whispered triumphantly yet tenderly, “See? I kept my promise—I was gentle.”
Andy nodded slowly, chest still heaving slightly from exertion. “I suppose you do keep your promises,” he admitted reluctantly, though there was no missing the satisfaction in his voice—a note that resonated deeply within Matt.
Matt brushed his lips against Andy’s, a featherlight touch that belied the intensity of their shared shower moments before.
The water ceased its downpour with a flick of Matt’s wrist, and he wrapped Andy in a towel as though he were swaddling a priceless piece of art.
Carefully, he patted dry the map of flushed skin before him, ensuring no droplet remained to mar the masterpiece.
With a playful grunt, Matt hoisted Andy over his shoulder like a knight claiming his spoils.
“I can walk!” Andy protested.
“Indulge me,” Matt countered with a smirk.
In the bedroom, Matt deposited his precious cargo onto the bed with a soft bounce. Andy’s finger wagged in warning. “Remember, the nips are sacred territory—no trespassing.”
Matt leaned over him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I solemnly swear to be up to no good—except where explicitly forbidden,” he vowed. His lips met Andy’s in another gentle kiss, effectively sealing the deal and silencing any potential argument.
As he journeyed south with his mouth, Matt worshipped every inch of Andy’s skin with kisses as soft as whispers.
The path was sinuous and deliberate, charting the dips and rises of muscles and bone with reverent attention.
Each kiss elicited from Andy a sound more melodious than the last—a symphony of groans that Matt conducted masterfully.
Finally satisfied with his pilgrimage, Matt orchestrated a strategic reversal. With a deft movement, he rolled until he lay on his back like royalty upon his throne, gazing up at the masterpiece now perched atop him.
“Now about our little role reversal,” Matt mused aloud, “unless you’ve got another plan for my release that doesn’t involve those tempting thighs or that tantalizing ass of yours?”
Andy huffed above him, a playful storm brewing in those beautiful eyes. “Fine,” he capitulated with feigned exasperation. “But remember—you asked for it.”
Settling into his new role atop Mount Caine, Andy began to work.
Matt had always known power—how it coursed through his veins, commanded rooms, and bent people to his will. But this? The sight of Andy perched atop him, eyes filled with a delicious blend of uncertainty and determination? This was a different kind of power altogether.