Axes & O’s

17. Nathan

Chapter 17

Nathan

Cold water rains down from the shower, chilling my overheated skin. I’ve already washed off the last twenty-four hours, but no soap in the world can erase the feeling of Morgan’s lips wrapped around my cock and Fox’s intense gaze on my body.

I drop my head back and release a groan as my erection makes itself known. I thought I’d spent everything I had down Morgan’s throat, but regardless of if my eyes are open or closed, I can’t stop my brain from remembering what just happened, how it felt to be so out of control yet controlled at the same time. How it felt to do something so wild that even my fantasies could never have dreamed it up.

Fuck.

I completely panicked afterward, which is another reason I’m still in this shower. I’m embarrassed, and I don’t know if I can look Morgan in the eye. But the way she looked afterward…I’ve never done that to a woman, never used one like a toy and lost myself to the feeling of pleasure alone.

What’s worse is that I liked it. I liked it a lot. More than I feel I should. And while I keep trying to tell myself it was all consensual—that compared to what I saw them doing in their bedroom, this was tame—I can’t help but feel like I did something wrong. Like I should find a church and go repent.

I rub water out of my eyes, and my fingers prune against my now icy skin. With a bit of resistance and a still-hard cock, I shut the water off and grab a fresh towel that I’d placed on the hook before I got in. I dry off my body, hissing when the terry cloth rubs over the sensitive head of my length.

“Get it together, Nathan,” I grit out. “You can be an adult about this.” Or can you? a nagging voice in the back of my mind chimes. I bite the inside of my cheek and push the thought away before hanging the towel back up.

Once I’m dressed in the gray sweatpants and brown Henley from earlier, I stare at myself in the mirror. The same brown eyes that’ve stared back at me for the last twenty-seven years are there, but this time…

They’re different.

They’re still the warm earthy brown they’ve always been—of course that didn’t change—but now? Now, there’s something more to them. They seem to shine in the light of the mirror, and my pupils are larger and darker. I try to remember if I’ve ever seen them look like this, like there’s something more to them than what someone can see on the surface.

That’s crazy, though, right? Because a blowjob doesn’t change a person that much. Even as I contemplate it, I think that while it might be crazy, it also might be true. I feel as if what happened in that sauna altered my brain chemistry, or maybe the last day has. Not only did I quit my job, but I almost died, was saved by two hot kinky loggers in the woods, then had the best blowjob of my life. So yeah, maybe my brain is altered—or maybe I’m the one who’s changed.

I pause. Two hot kinky loggers. Not one, two .

My eyes stay locked on my own gaze in the mirror, and I wonder if it’s my soul staring back at me. A creepy thought, maybe—I don’t fucking know anymore. I’ve never considered myself to be gay or bi, but I’ve never thought about it. But now that my brain has been opened to it, the idea of Fox, the idea of Fox and Morgan, I’m starting to think the reason I never questioned my sexuality is because I’ve never given myself the chance to .

From the moment I was born, my parents, and then eventually my sister, have been planning my marriage. I was to marry a nice girl, have a nice wedding, buy a house, get a dog, and have a couple of kids. The expectation has only gotten greater since my dad’s death and Lindsey’s divorce.

Is it something I want, though? Has it ever been?

I think of my relationship with Sasha, how before the car accident, I was contemplating our time together. I would have married her if something hadn’t been missing.

But what was that missing piece?

It had nothing to do with her and everything to do with me. I know that because every girlfriend or sexual partner I’ve ever had has always felt the same. The sex was okay, the orgasms were okay, the time we spent together was okay, but it was never great. It was never like how it was in the sauna with Morgan—with Fox. Which is even more confusing, because it’s two people, not one. I’m not sure how to deal with that, either. It’s not like I could bring them both home for Christmas dinner and not expect my family to freak out.

Also, why am I thinking of bringing them home to meet my family? Not only are they married— married —but I walked out on them after what just happened as well. Plus, we don’t know each other.

This is all happening way too fast, and I’m beginning to wonder if we all just have a case of cabin fever, even if I know that’s not true. Because Morgan was clear they’ve done something like this before, and now I’m questioning if the clothes I have on are from a past lover instead of someone platonic. Because these aren’t Morgan’s clothes, and they’re too small to be Fox’s.

I bring my hands up to the cool stone sink, my knuckles turning white from how hard I’m gripping it. Fox’s icy-blue gaze flashes behind my eyelids, and his barking orders still rattle in my mind. Use my wife’s smart mouth, Nathan. It’s yours .

My cock aches, and I groan. I can’t leave this bathroom with a fucking hard-on—I just can’t.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

My back stiffens, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Really? One of them had to knock now?

“Nathan?” Morgan’s voice calls from behind the door. “Are you okay?”

I exhale and rub my hands over my face, feeling the stubble from my growing beard. If I don’t ask for a razor soon, I’ll leave this place looking like a mountain man.

“I’m fine,” I manage to get out, though my voice is raspy and lacks confidence. Which I’m sure Morgan heard.

“I’m having a glass of mulled wine by the fire if you’d like to join.”

I inhale another breath, glad she didn’t ask me how I was again. My attention drops to my crotch, and I beg it to deflate. It would be nice if I at least had a pair of pants that didn’t show the outline of my dick. I’m not as gifted as I believe Fox to be, but I’m not small, either. Especially when I’m this hard.

“Nate?”

I lick my lips. Again, the shortened name sounds so good coming from her mouth. “Yeah,” I answer. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Great!” she chimes, and even through the door, I can hear her genuine excitement and relief.

I eye myself again in the mirror, counting to ten and thinking of anything else but sex and what happened in the sauna. Instead, I think of Kathy at work with her blue forehead vein pulsing and that horrible red lipstick.

My face screws up—yeah, that did it.