her ear. "I'm your professor."
"Ohh, Gooddd."
I send her over the edge with that. She bucks against me and fights to catch her breath, and then leans against me, eyes closed.
We stand together for a few minutes, just feeling the water splash over our skin.
My cock is rock hard, and I push her up against the side of the shower, her cheek pressed against the hard granite.
I slide the head of my cock over her ass, being careful not to go in, but letting her know I could if I wanted to.
I can’t take it any longer, and I push into her, hard, and she arches her back into me as I start to fuck her, the water sliding over our bodies, the steam rising around us.
She feels amazing around me, snug and tight and so fucking smooth.
I pull her back toward me and kiss her mouth, her tight supple body pressed against mine as I come inside of her.
Finally, I turn the faucet off, step outside for towels, and wrap her naked body up in one of the giant white terrycloth sheets. "Good girl," I tell her, before scooping her up and carrying her to the bed.
A DDISON
I feel kind of dazed after that shower. The heat on top of the steam we generated ourselves zapped my energy, and I've been enjoying laying here on this huge bed with my head nestled in the crook of Chase's elbow.
I can sense him looking at me. "What?" I ask.
He just smiles and shrugs. "Can't I just look at you?"
"I guess so," I say. I still can't believe Chase Brooks wants to spend his time looking at me. He could have any woman in the world, and he’s here with me. I never thought I'd get to come in a luxury hotel suite shower. With Chase Brooks.
"I think Roger Moore is my least favorite Bond," he tells me, flipping through the channels. "How about you?"
"I'm ambivalent, as long as Daniel Craig wins best Bond."
"No way. Connery."
"Is it hard to watch these?" I ask as Chase lingers on the Bond movie for a minute. "Do you constantly weigh every element of these films against Bryce when you watch, or are you able to relax and enjoy them?" I’m running my fingers down over his naked chest, enjoying the feel of his body. Every muscle is defined, every part of him chiseled and worked to perfection. I wonder what it would feel like to be that beautiful, to be so perfect. Does it get old? I wonder. Being able to get anything you want because you’re so damn good looking?
"I can't turn my mind off," he says. "Not completely. So I've never been able to relax all the way. The back of my mind is looking for similarities and wondering who's better."
"Bryce is in a class of his own," I assure him. "Trust me." I run my hand further down his body to his stomach, counting the muscles of his abdomen. One, two, three, four, five, six pack.
"That he is," Chase agrees, but his tone is flat.
I know he's been struggling to write his next book, but maybe it's going worse than I thought. "Still not in the groove yet with number fifteen?" I ask gently.
He shakes his head, saying nothing. I lift my head to look at his face. It's twisted into disgust.
"What's happening with that?" I ask.
"Nothing." He lets out a sigh and looks away. "I just want to kill off my main character. No big deal."
What?!
"I don't think I heard you properl,” I say, trying not to show my surprise. “Did you just say you want to kill off Bryce Bowker?"
"Yes."
"But--" I can't wrap my head around this. "But that would be like killing off Jack Reacher!"
"Yeah, well."
"Are you serious?"
"Dead serious."
"Why?"
"Because I fucking can't take his shit anymore." I almost smile, because Chase could be bitching about a real person, the way he sounds. But after so many books and movies, and worldwide love, Bryce almost is a real person. "He's the same bastard in every book, and I can't do anything new with him. He's an egomaniac and pretty fucking narcissistic. You know?"
"I..." I never thought about this before. "He could be, but that wouldn't be my first complaint with him."
"Oh? And what would be your first
"Ohh, Gooddd."
I send her over the edge with that. She bucks against me and fights to catch her breath, and then leans against me, eyes closed.
We stand together for a few minutes, just feeling the water splash over our skin.
My cock is rock hard, and I push her up against the side of the shower, her cheek pressed against the hard granite.
I slide the head of my cock over her ass, being careful not to go in, but letting her know I could if I wanted to.
I can’t take it any longer, and I push into her, hard, and she arches her back into me as I start to fuck her, the water sliding over our bodies, the steam rising around us.
She feels amazing around me, snug and tight and so fucking smooth.
I pull her back toward me and kiss her mouth, her tight supple body pressed against mine as I come inside of her.
Finally, I turn the faucet off, step outside for towels, and wrap her naked body up in one of the giant white terrycloth sheets. "Good girl," I tell her, before scooping her up and carrying her to the bed.
A DDISON
I feel kind of dazed after that shower. The heat on top of the steam we generated ourselves zapped my energy, and I've been enjoying laying here on this huge bed with my head nestled in the crook of Chase's elbow.
I can sense him looking at me. "What?" I ask.
He just smiles and shrugs. "Can't I just look at you?"
"I guess so," I say. I still can't believe Chase Brooks wants to spend his time looking at me. He could have any woman in the world, and he’s here with me. I never thought I'd get to come in a luxury hotel suite shower. With Chase Brooks.
"I think Roger Moore is my least favorite Bond," he tells me, flipping through the channels. "How about you?"
"I'm ambivalent, as long as Daniel Craig wins best Bond."
"No way. Connery."
"Is it hard to watch these?" I ask as Chase lingers on the Bond movie for a minute. "Do you constantly weigh every element of these films against Bryce when you watch, or are you able to relax and enjoy them?" I’m running my fingers down over his naked chest, enjoying the feel of his body. Every muscle is defined, every part of him chiseled and worked to perfection. I wonder what it would feel like to be that beautiful, to be so perfect. Does it get old? I wonder. Being able to get anything you want because you’re so damn good looking?
"I can't turn my mind off," he says. "Not completely. So I've never been able to relax all the way. The back of my mind is looking for similarities and wondering who's better."
"Bryce is in a class of his own," I assure him. "Trust me." I run my hand further down his body to his stomach, counting the muscles of his abdomen. One, two, three, four, five, six pack.
"That he is," Chase agrees, but his tone is flat.
I know he's been struggling to write his next book, but maybe it's going worse than I thought. "Still not in the groove yet with number fifteen?" I ask gently.
He shakes his head, saying nothing. I lift my head to look at his face. It's twisted into disgust.
"What's happening with that?" I ask.
"Nothing." He lets out a sigh and looks away. "I just want to kill off my main character. No big deal."
What?!
"I don't think I heard you properl,” I say, trying not to show my surprise. “Did you just say you want to kill off Bryce Bowker?"
"Yes."
"But--" I can't wrap my head around this. "But that would be like killing off Jack Reacher!"
"Yeah, well."
"Are you serious?"
"Dead serious."
"Why?"
"Because I fucking can't take his shit anymore." I almost smile, because Chase could be bitching about a real person, the way he sounds. But after so many books and movies, and worldwide love, Bryce almost is a real person. "He's the same bastard in every book, and I can't do anything new with him. He's an egomaniac and pretty fucking narcissistic. You know?"
"I..." I never thought about this before. "He could be, but that wouldn't be my first complaint with him."
"Oh? And what would be your first
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