The Pool Boy (Nashville Neighborhood, #2)

by Nikki Sloane

when he’d rounded the corner and discovered me topless, he’d dropped everything in his arms. Including the long pole with the net on the end. It was as if someone had put their foot down on the sustain pedal of a piano, only this piano played the music of time, and the moment suspended with my long, drawn out gasp.

“Show me,” I pleaded. “I want to see it.” He went utterly still. “What?” Blood rushed loudly in my ears, drowning out the panic at what I was suggesting. “You saw me,” I offered. “I . . . want to see you.”

“Are you worried I won’t be able to handle you?” “No.” He was perfectly serious. “I’m worried I won’t be able to handle you.” His gaze dropped down to his dick clenched in his hand. “Look at me. I haven’t fucking touched you, and I’m already close.”

“You like the sound of that? Me being your personal sex toy?” “Fuck,” I cried. My mind went white-hot at the idea. “Yeah, I thought so.” He rubbed circles on my swollen clit while he continued to pound at me from beneath. “You can use me however you want to.” My heart sprinted frantically, flying toward explosion. Even though I wasn’t scared, something like panic filled my voice. “You’re going to make me come.” “You’re goddamn right,” he growled.

Shower scene