Page 147 of Love By Design

“I want to watch,” I said. “Does that bother you?”

He shook his head and climbed into the shower, turning on the water before dipping his head beneath the spray. He slicked his hair away from his face and rubbed his hands across his chest, sliding one down toward his cock. He gave himself a quick stroke, then let go.

“It doesn’t bother me.”

“Do you normally touch yourself when you do it?” I asked.

I’d been in the shower with him through it one time, but I’d never thought to ask about his normal habits or tell him that I didn’t want him jacking off if I wasn’t around. As much as I liked the idea of controlling Silas’s body that way, it gave me a thrill to know there were times we were apart when he needed to chase his own pleasure.

“Yeah,” he admitted, chin tucked toward his chest. “I mean yes. Yes, Sir.”

“Now I very much want to watch.”

Silas nodded, slicking up the nozzle and bending awkwardly to ease it into his body. He flipped the water and raised onto his toes, grunting as the warm water began to flow. He waited, waited, tugging softly on his cock as the water filled him up. The urge to climb in with him and hold my hands flat against his stomach, to feel him swell from the pressure was almost insurmountable, but I decided to touch myself instead. He switched the water back to the overhead spray and let the nozzle slide out of him.

The tension in his muscles from holding the water in was evident. And when he gingerly stepped out of the shower, I slid my back against the wall so he could have a clear path to the toilet.

“Are you really going to watch?” he asked, sitting down.

“I’m really going to watch.”

Silas stroked himself with more intent, a strong pull from root to tip. Slow, slow, and then faster. His hand was still wet with lube as he jerked himself off and emptied into the toilet at the same time. His body seized and shivered, and his hand slowed down again. He hadn’t finished, but he was as hard as I’d ever seen him before.

I’d have to rethink my stance on letting him jerk off without me.

“Do you normally finish in the shower?” I asked.

He climbed back under the spray and washed between his ass cheeks, washed his balls, his cock, then turned off the water. “Sometimes, Sir.”

I pulled the towel off the bar and held it open. He walked into it willingly, and I wrapped him up in the thick terry cloth, kissing the top of his head.

“Not anymore.”

“Yes, Sir,” he whispered.

“Are you nervous about dinner still?” I asked.

“Very.”

“I think I’ve figured out how to help you.”

Silas groaned but let me lead him to the bedroom just the same. Once in front of the bed, I tugged the towel away from him and shoved him forward onto his hands and knees. He went easily and willingly, rolling his damp forehead across the comforter.

“Sweetheart,” I said, voice low. “You look good enough to eat.”

So I did just that.

Climbing onto the bed behind him, I dug my nails into his ass cheeks and spread him wide. I speared my tongue into his asshole, licking and sucking and kissing him there until my spit ran down his sac.

“Touch yourself but don’t come,” I said, diving back in.

Silas was a writhing mess by the time he got close, barely managing to get out the warning.

“I’m close, Sir.”

I pulled my mouth away and slapped my hand down hard against his ass.

“Not helping,” he groaned, burying his face into the blankets and fisting the sheets withbothhands.