Somewhere New (Isle of Doughnut #1)

Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN

CALLUM

I glared at my erection.

Dealing with this every time I showered wasn’t part of my normal routine.

In the first weeks after the storm, the part of my brain reserved for sexual exploration shut down. Only after I came to live in the mountains did my libido return to full strength.

It had been annoying, but manageable. Every other day, I finished my shower with a perfunctory orgasm that staved off unscheduled erections or wet dreams.

But I’d masturbated yesterday. And the day before. And the one before that.

I resisted pushing down on it, knowing what the friction would do.

In addition to perking up every time I washed, my penis had acquired a thousand new nerve endings. Before, orgasms had been pleasant but easily shucked off. Now, they reduced me to a boneless mess.

I knew exactly what had caused this change. My forehead strained as I glared even more .

Erections were a ridiculous reaction to Aster offering to talk about the storm.

He wanted to know me.

Apparently that triggered a series of unwanted erections and explosive orgasms.

People had expressed appreciation for my body before. It was clear in the way Aster’s gaze lingered when I pounded dough or bent to tie my shoelaces that he liked how I looked. I had relegated his interest into the category of purely aesthetic. That hadn’t affected me like this.

But he’d also watched TV with me for hours because he wanted to share something he took such pure pleasure in. He asked countless questions about stew making and bread proving and goat herding. He noticed the dark, unspoken things inside of me that no one else had and asked if I wanted to bring them out into the light.

It was impossible to predict, before Aster crashed into my life, that a desire for genuine closeness would knock my carefully curated masturbation schedule out of sync.

It didn’t help that Aster had been pleasuring himself in here too.

In a small shared space like the cabin, masturbating in the shower made sense. He could wash away the evidence and avoid awkward questions about more tissues finding their way into the bedroom bin since he’d arrived.

Aster had been meticulous about clearing away any trace of his release. He would have been a considerate person to share a shower with if my sense of smell wasn’t a thousand times more advanced than a normal human’s.

Like every other day this week when my penis hardened beyond hope of being ignored, I turned to the tiled wall. No amount of scrubbing could remove the potent scent of Aster lingering there.

In here, where he moaned out his pleasure, there was a deeper edge to it. Spices I couldn’t quite name, faint aromas I wanted to paint over my skin, a bright spark of shouted joy. If Aster’s usual scent was impossible to define, it was doubly so in here.

Especially as blood flow had diverted from my brain to much less useful sections of my anatomy.

I took myself in hand, then quickly raised my other arm to muffle a moan in the crook of my elbow. Leaning against the wall, I trailed my fingers across my overheated skin.

I couldn’t deny how badly I wanted to be known by Aster. My instincts, my mind and heart, my body—they all wanted it. But I didn’t know how to talk about the storm. Every time I’d tried with Bonnie, she shut me down. She had good reason to. I never got the sense she hated me, which she would do if she had any inkling of what had really happened, but maybe some additional Alpha sense warned her to shy away from the truth. I didn’t know why the prospect of telling Aster was so appealing when his reaction would be to draw away from the closeness we shared in horrified disgust.

My doubts didn’t cause my erection to flag. The warm water pounding across my shoulders smoothing the way, I tightened my hold. Although determined to make my additional orgasms as functional as possible, I couldn’t do anything about the difference in how my calloused palm felt on my oversensitive skin.

I definitely couldn’t control the images springing into my head. With the scent of Aster’s release filling the steamy air, it was impossible I’d think of anyone else.

His delighted smile whenever I quoted one of the TV shows he was determined I enjoyed. The light that graced his face when he spotted me out in the mountains. The wrinkles that formed across his nose when he was frustrated.

I pumped harder, keeping my mouth carefully angled into the bend of my arm to trap the sounds escaping.

Aster’s intoxicating scent surrounded me. What would it be like to be surrounded by him? Instead of only touching his hands and the soft skin of his neck, how would it feel to press my chest against his, entwine my legs with his?

I moved my hand faster as I imagined chasing our release together. His arm moving with mine, his mouth pressing across my neck and chest, his penis pulsing with need.

Closeness, of another kind. Vulnerability and desire and heat.

Pleasure coiled in my stomach, tingled across my thighs, culminated in the heated flesh clasped in my jerking hand. I groaned into my arm, feeling the splash of cum over my fingers. My eyes closed against my will.

Orgasms had never felt like this before. Like my whole being was lit up with overwhelming sensation. Like I was consumed by this need. Like a thousand of these moments would never be enough.

I groaned as I loosened my hold, aftershocks of pleasure racketing down my legs and up through my chest. If this wasn’t the start of another long day in the mountains, filled with goat herding and worried glances at the snow-laden clouds, I would be tempted to allow the lassitude that followed these orgasms to lull me to sleep. I’d been a poor sleeper since the storm, but I had a feeling I’d pass out immediately if I got too comfortable after such a mind- and body-shattering experience.

Knocks on the bathroom door snapped me from my post- orgasm glow. I whipped my head up from my arm to check the lock was pushed across.

‘Callum?’ Aster paused knocking to shout my name through the thin layer of wood. ‘You alright?’

‘I’m fine.’ Hopefully Aster would attribute the huskiness of my voice to anything other than the long moans I’d been unable to contain.

‘Okay. Cool. I thought I heard something. But yeah. Shower time is private time. And I know?—’

‘Can I help you with something?’ I interjected. Usually, I loved listening to Aster ramble about any subject, but the blush would never fade from my face if he explained exactly what private shower time meant while my penis was softening.

‘Oh yeah. Yes. Yes, you can.’ Another series of knocks sounded, like Aster couldn’t contain the energy thrumming through him. ‘Do you wanna build a snowman?’

He sang that last part. I had no idea why. I flicked off the water, then stumbled as I stepped out of the shower cubicle and the detail behind what Aster had said hit me.

‘It’s snowed?’

‘It has snowed like a fucking machine,’ Aster shouted through the door. ‘At least a couple of feet has settled out there, and it’s still going.’

I grabbed a towel and hurriedly dried myself. If anything could snap me out of the hours-long glow that followed one of my Aster-induced orgasms, it was the prospect of what a late fall of snow meant for the pregnant goats.

Nothing good.