Page 105 of Wrecked

“Where are we going?” I ask as he leads me back to the family room.

“Let’s snuggle on the sofa and watch a movie.”

When Shane and Beth return from their evening out, they find us asleep on the sofa lying in each other’s arms.

* * *

The following evening, we get ready to head out for our bachelor party—the queer one. We’re meeting our queer friends at Sapphires.

I strip as I walk into our private bathroom. Sam’s already in the shower, oblivious to my presence as he hums to himself under the spray of water. For a moment, I stand outside the walk-in shower and indulge in the sight of him. He’s put on a little bit of weight since we first met, filled out a little bit, and maybe he has a bit more muscle. But he’s still pretty lean, especially compared to me. He still wears his nipple piercings, which make me hard every time I see them. And he gets hard when I play with them.

He’s still my freckled redhead who drives me crazy both in bed and out.

I watch as he lathers his chest with soap, and then his arm pits and lightly muscled arms. As he soaps up his thighs and between his legs, I realize I’ve spent enough time watching. Now I want to do some touching.

I walk into the shower, which is easily big enough for four people. Two waterfall showerheads hang high overhead, releasing a gentle rain shower on the gray Travertine tiles beneath our feet.

When he hears me coming, he turns with a smile. I take the lavender-and-vanilla-scented soap from him and turn him back around. I lather my hands and proceed to wash his shoulders and back, kneading his muscles firmly.

Sam groans. “You have magic fingers.”

Chuckling, I slide my soapy fingers down his abdomen, following the path of his happy trail to his penis, which is half-erect now. As I stroke him, my fingers glide over his smooth, velvety flesh.

His groans deepen when my touch turns firmer. Standing behind him, my chin resting on his shoulder, I speed up my stroking.

“You’re going to make me come,” he says, breathless now.

“That’s the idea.”

Sam leans his head back and rests it on my shoulder, further exposing his throat. I kiss the tender spot where his neck meets his shoulder.

He groans. “Not another hickey.”

I continue to stroke him firmly from root to tip, running my thumb over his sensitive head. I smile when he shivers in my arms. Before long, he’s thick and throbbing in my grasp. His muscles tense, signaling his orgasm is close. I suck harder on his neck as he ejaculates. His cries are muffled by the sound of the gentle rainfall pouring down on us.

* * *

When we’re out of the shower and dressing, Sam admires his newest hickey in the mirror. “You sure do love marking me.”

I walk up behind him, put my hands on his shoulders, and lean in to kiss my artwork. “Yep. This way, every guy who sees you at the club tonight will know you’re taken.”

His beautiful brown eyes meet my gaze in the mirror. “Does this mean I can give you a hickey, too, so they’ll know you’retaken?”

I laugh. “Baby, that’s not something you need to worry about. Nobody’s going to be hitting onme.”

He turns to face me. “Don’t be too sure.” He starts buttoning my white shirt. “If I was single and looking to mingle, and I saw a hot silver fox like you in a club, I’d be making my move.”

I cup his face and lean in to kiss him. “It’s a good thing you’re not single then.” I lift his left hand and kiss his ring finger. “In four more days, you’ll be a married man.”

“Yeah, I will be. Samuel Harrison-Cooper. I like the sound of that.”

The way his eyes shine when he hears those words is everything, and I’m tempted to delay our departure for a little bit of quality alone time. “We’d better leave right now, or we’re not going to make it at all,” I tell him as I tuck my shirt into my trousers.

He grabs his shirt and pulls it on—a teal silk shirt that complements his red hair nicely. He’s wearing a pair of blue jeans that are more ripped than not, and a pair of black sneakers. I’m dressed more conservatively in black trousers, a white button-down shirt, and black loafers.

As we’re heading to the garage, we come across Shane, who whistles at us. “You two clean up well. Are you off to your other bachelor party?”

“Yep,” Sam says with a smile. “Sorry, Shane. You’re not invited to this one.”