Page 96 of Daddy's Little Christmas

“Okay?” I asked.

He nodded, too breathless for anything else.

I didn’t touch his cock—not yet. I wanted to, God, I wanted to, but I wanted the moment to build. So I washed the inside of his thighs instead, my thumbs brushing up higher with each careful stroke, close enough that he trembled.

When his head fell back slightly, curls dripping water down his nape, I stepped closer and tilted his chin toward me.

“Rinse,” I whispered.

He let me guide him under the spray. Soap slid off him in frothy rivulets, revealing warm, flushed skin beneath.

Then his hands were on my chest.

“My turn,” he said.

I opened my mouth to argue that he didn’t need to—he silenced that thought with the press of his palms, slick and warm, moving slowly down my ribs. He wasn’t washing me yet. He wasexploring me under the guise of washing me, and the restraint in his touch made my whole body tighten.

“Rudy…”

“I know you said I don’t have to,” he murmured, leaning in so the water hit his back instead of mine, his lips brushing my ear. “But I want to. Let me.”

His fingers slid down my stomach, featherlight, reverent. My breath stuttered. I braced one hand on the tile behind me, the other gripping his waist.

He soaped his hands—no cloth this time—and pressed them to my chest. The warmth. The slick glide. The contrast of his small hands against my larger frame. It was all I could do to keep breathing.

He washed me like I had washed him—slow, deliberate, intimate. Across my pecs. Down my stomach. Around my hips. Behind my shoulders.

Every stroke built heat, gathering inside me like a storm.

Then he sank to his knees.

Not hurried. Like kneeling for me was something he’d wanted to do all along.

Water ran down his face, dripping from his lashes. He pushed his wet hair back with one hand, then wrapped the other around my thigh for balance.

He looked up at me.

Red curls plastered to his forehead. Pupils blown wide. Mouth parted. Steam curling around him.

“Let me taste you,” he whispered.

My hand went to the back of his head, fingers threading into wet ginger curls, guiding him.

Rudy’s lips parted wider as they rimmed the head of my cock, and I felt the heat of his mouth and it made my knees buckle slightly. The shower's spray rained down over us, mixing with the saliva that dripped from his mouth as he took me deeper. His tongue swirled around the shaft with a hunger that matched the heat in my veins. I tightened my grip in his damp curls, not forcing myself but steadying myself as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked, drawing out a guttural moan from deep in my chest.

Rudy worked me with expertise, bobbing his head in steady pulls that had my hips twitching forward. His free hand slid up my thigh, his nails grazing the skin before cupping my balls, massaging them with gentle rolls that sent sparks shooting up my spine. Water ran down his back, tracing the curve of his spine. His erection strained untouched against his belly. He hummed around my length, the vibration buzzing through me like a live wire, and I watched through half-lidded eyes as his throat flexed, taking me to the back with ease born of practice and desire.

"Fuck, that's perfect," I rasped, my voice echoing off the tiled walls. He responded by quickening his pace, his lips sliding slickly along every inch, his tongue flicking the sensitive underside on each upstroke. Droplets clung to his lashes as he glanced up, those blown pupils locking onto mine, seeking approval in the midst of this erotic act. I gave it with a nod, thrusting shallowly into his mouth, feeling the tight seal of his lips stretch around me. The pressure built relentlessly, coiling tighter in my gut, my balls drawing up as the edge approached.

But I wasn't ready to finish like this; not when I could bury myself in him instead. With a strained growl, I pulled back, hismouth releasing me with a pop that left strings of spit bridging the gap. “Not yet, Rudy. I need to fuck you properly.” He rose unsteadily, his cheeks flushed deeper than the steam could account for, his cock bobbing hard and leaking. We shut off the water, the sudden chill raising goosebumps on our skin as we grabbed towels. I dried him roughly, over his shoulders, down his chest, between his legs, before turning the towel on myself, but the urgency clawed at us both.

“Hurry.” We raced down the hall, his laughter breathless and teasing, my pulse thundering as I shoved the door open.

Inside, the bed waited as Rudy spun to face me, but I pinned him against the wall first, crashing my mouth into his in a bruising kiss. Our tongues tangled, tasting of soap and salt, my skin prickling with anticipation.

I lifted him effortlessly, his legs wrapping around my waist as I carried him to the bed, laying him down with his head on the pillows. I grabbed the lube from the nightstand and slicked my fingers; I pressed one into his tight heat, then two, twisting and thrusting to open him up. He arched, gasping, his hands fisting the sheets. “Graeme, please fill me.” I added a third finger, curling it to graze that spot inside him that made his cock jerk and pre-cum bead at the tip.

Withdrawing my hand, I suited up and coated my shaft and positioned myself between his spread thighs, the head nudging his entrance. “Breathe for me,” I instructed, pushing in slow and steady. The resistance gave way, his ring clenching around me as I sank deeper, inch by inch, until my hips met his ass. We both groaned at the fullness, his walls hot and velvet around my length. I paused, letting him adjust, then pulled back and snapped forward, setting a deep, grinding pace.