Jory Strong

Hot water struck Temperance’s tanned flesh. It flowed over slick skin and feminine curves in a hot caress that never failed to harden Demetri’s cock.

She knew he was there, watching through the steamed glass of the shower stall. She’d known the moment he stepped into the bathroom, though she hadn’t turned her head or acknowledged him.

It’d been like that from the very first with Temperance, the connection between them instant, intense. She’d come into the club where he worked as a bartender at night to support his real passion, his art, and he’d looked up immediately, known something important was about to happen. And it had.

In the packed room their eyes met and held. Electric attraction and pulsing need. Two souls recognizing each other even if the bodies housing them were strangers to one another.

In that instant he’d known he wanted to be with her forever. Later, when she was stretched naked on the futon in his studio, she’d said their meeting was fated. Told him about going with a friend earlier in the day for a tarot reading and drawing The Lovers card from the deck.

It had to be fate, he agreed, painting her flesh with colors meant to be licked and kissed away. Following the trail left by a swirling fingertip with his lips and tongue, worshiping her in a way he’d never done before with a woman.

Not that there hadn’t been women. There had been. His looks and the bartending gig drew them, and if that didn’t, the artist label did. But until Temperance, he’d never wanted to be with a woman more than he did another man. He wouldn’t again. She was his one very permanent exception when it came to the female sex.

Demetri shrugged off his tank top and unbuttoned his shorts, letting them drop to the floor. On the other side of the shower stall she turned her back to the water then smoothed soapy hands over her breasts, played with dark, beautiful nipples.

She teased them into sultry pouts, at the same time teasing him into curling his hand around the hot length of his erection. He laughed at her antics, a sound that was equal parts amusement and gasp of sexual pain as he tightened his grip on his hardened cock.

In a minute he’d join her, replace her hands with his mouth and then kiss downward. But for now he’d torment them both by delaying.

His eyes traveled from her breasts to the hint of darkness at the apex of her thighs, the small triangle of pubic hair pointing to her clit. He couldn’t see the swollen knob through the steamy glass but he knew it would be erect, flushed, the hood pulled back to expose a tiny, smooth head.

Demetri shuddered with need, his cock pulsing in his hand. He loved being inside her, but he loved sucking her clit almost as much. It probably came with being bi, closer to gay than straight. Then again, he loved everything about her.

He closed his eyes to shore up his resistance. Otherwise he’d be on his knees the moment he joined her beneath the spray of hot water.

Another laugh escaped. Why did he bother when they both knew he was her slave when it came to pleasure?

Unable to withstand the call of her body to his any longer, he went to her. She gave him a mischievous smile when he opened the shower door and stepped in.

“I thought maybe you’d decided being with a woman didn’t do it for you anymore,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and a shapely leg around his hip so her clit pressed to his cock, sending a bolt of pure desire straight through him.

He forced her backward against the wall. Pressed his cock hard against her swollen clit. “Does this feel like I’ve lost interest?”

“I’m not sure. I think I need convincing.”

“I can do that.”