Page 90 of Damián

The friction of our wet swim trunks rubbing together sends a shock of pleasure straight to my groin.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he growls against my wet skin, and my skin shivers even under the warm water.

I slide my hands down his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles, feeling the raised ridges of old scars and anything else I can memorize. He feels so strong and unreachable, yet he’s here with me, reacting to my touch.

But now I need more… I need to feel him.

So I slide my hand down his stomach and slip my fingers under the wet waistband of his trunks.

“Ollie—” He gasps, and it’s so freaking hot.

I shove my hands all the way in, gripping the fabric, and pull them down his thick thighs. He kicks them away, letting them pool at the drain, and then I am reaching for mine, discarding them just as quickly.

We are completely naked now, and I desperately want to look at him… but I know the second I do, my entire body will start to shake.

And honestly, I’m terrified that if I let my nerves show, he’ll stop. So I keep my eyes closed… at least for now.

I press my naked body against his and kiss him, parting my lips and using my tongue to mirror every single thing he’s taught me.

“Oh, nene,” Damián groans, his hands clasping at my hips as he grinds his huge, hard-on against mine.

Oh, God…

I’m close, so close, but this can’t end… Not now, not this fast.

I pull away and hold him still, then I spin him around, pressing his broad back against the glass, and Damián yields. He watches me through the steam, his chest heaving, his gorgeous eyes hooded with lust as I step into his space.

I have no idea what to do, so I just run my hands everywhere, exploring him under the water. I trace the lines of his chest, down his abs… my fingers ghosting over his thick, aching cock.

Damián’s head falls back against the glass, and he moans. A moan that makes me feel impossibly powerful, and in a way validates everything I’ve been doing to him.

Okay, he likes it… let’s do a little more…

I bite my lower lip as I move my hand to stroke him, feeling him twitch and jump in my hand, slick with the soap and water.

“Oliver,” he chokes out, his hands gripping my hips. “Fuck, nene…”

I look up at him, the water running down my forehead. My heart is racing, my brain is freaking out, but I want to try more. I want to see him moan and groan more, to see him frantically grind his hips and beg me for more.

Fuck, I want to wreck him as much as he wrecks me.

“Can I…?” I ask, my voice muffled over the sound of the running water. I swallow hard and look at him directly. “…with my mouth?”

Damián’s eyes are set on mine, and he looks like he is going to combust.

Wow… that’s a good look…

“Yes,” he breathes, and his fingers dig harder into my hips. “Please.”

Before I can overthink it, I take a deep breath and drop to my knees. The hot water crashes over my face and back, but I don’t care. I reach out and wrap my fingers around him… or at least try.

He’s so thick that my fingers barely meet on the other side.

Holy… How the hell am I going to fit this in my mouth?

A new wave of panic starts to crawl up my throat, but when Damián’s hands slide around the nape of my neck and his fingers tangle in my hair, gripping tight, the sudden, sharp sting and the raw, desperate eagerness in his hold give me the confidence I need, chasing away the fear right out of my brain, leaving only the burning need to go for it.

I look up into his eyes for one second, lean forward, and take him into my mouth.