I lean closer and whisper into his ear. “This isn’t a soundproofed room, so you’re going to have to be very quiet in here. I have no desire to have my membership revoked. Do you understand me?”

I’m using my bossy voice, which has always served me well with my younger men. I should’ve known that it wouldn’t work with Laurie.

He grins in a delighted manner. “Really?” he breathes. “Shall I keep my cries of Master to myself?”

I glare at him repressively. “Start the shower,” I instruct.

He swallows, amusement finally flying away as he reaches to the side and twists the dial. Spray erupts from the rainfall showerhead. I tug at his towel, loosening the knot, and it falls away. I remove my own and, after hanging the towels on a hook, I press my body against his. I feel a strange, frantic sort of relief as our skin touches.

He’s hot and damp, his chest rising and falling in a fast rhythm, and I can’t resist the temptation. I take his mouth in a deep kiss. He moans, and the sound echoes in my dick. I pull him even closer, eating at his mouth, our tongues twining and our breaths mingling.

Eventually, I pull back, gasping for breath. He stands still, his gaze on mine, and his slightly submissive air is like pouring petrol onto a bonfire. I take another step back and lean against the wall.

“Wash yourself.” The command is so soft it can hardly be heard over the noise of the shower.

A daredevil grin crosses his full lips. Holding my gaze, he steps under the spray, lifting his face to it. Within seconds, he’s soaked, his hair clinging to his face as sleekly as a seal pelt. He turns under the water until he faces me. I swallow hard as one hand touches his chest, flicking at a nipple until it tightens, while the other hand lowers as slowly as treacle from a jar until finally, he cups his balls. He breathes in sharply, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Laurie,” I say softly but with a note of warning, and his eyes fly open.

He gives me a sly smile and arches his back, letting the water spray over his body, and my mouth goes dry as he fists his cock. It’s long and slender, and he gives a sharp intake of breath as he strokes himself.

“Turn around,” I order.

He immediately obeys, turning to face the wall and letting the water pound his shoulders and cascade down his body. His back is a graceful arch, his buttocks round and biteable.

I open my mouth to issue more commands, but he lowers his hands at that moment, grabbing his buttocks and pulling them apart. I watch the water run down his crack and something short-circuits in my brain.