Chapter 18 #2
I sink to my knees, and he startles back, then stops himself. It takes a second for him to realize what’s going on, but he’s flying at full mast the second he realizes. His lids drop with desire. One hand slides down the back of my head and lightly brushes through my hair.
Taking the waistband of his pants, I pull it down and release the heavy length of his cock. Last night, he saw plenty of me, and I touched just as much of him, but I wasn’t looking right at it.
It’s very, very nice.
My eyes snap up, and I dip down, pushing the head into my mouth.
He must have showered quickly before following me downstairs, because he tastes clean.
I like that. I like how orderly he is. It makes me feel like he’s got his shit together, which my last one did not.
Right now, I don’t want to think about Shane, not with Bittern’s dick in my mouth.
He touches my hair, and I push deep. Our eyes lock, and like when we had sex, this is the most intimate blowjob I’ve ever given. His fingers cradle my head, holding it without too much pressure, and he’s looking at me with his lids lowered, dark eyes all soft and transfixed.
It makes me want to give him the best head of his life, and I like to think I do. He’s weak at the knees, leaning against the counter. He’s talking a little bit dirty, nothing too wild, but hearing it in his low, deep, accented voice is driving me wild.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “Right there, baby.”
Right there is the underside of the head, right at the back of my throat. Eyes locked, I keep going. He tenses, a ripple moving down his stomach. His jaw goes tight. Then, I taste him in my mouth, and a rush moves up through my head and down to my hips, pounding between my thighs.
“Swallow for me,” he pants.
That surprises me. He’s not demanding. I flick my tongue out for the barest second, so he sees what he did, and swallow his cum. I don’t have time to say a word, because he’s on the floor with me in a second, spilling me out onto my back.
“The coffee’s gonna be cold,” I pant.
He shoves my shirt up, pushing his head between my legs. “Fuck the coffee. I’ll make fresh.”
Fuck the coffee, I think, the room spinning. Like last night, he doesn’t wait around. He’s eating me so good, my thighs shake on either side of his head. All I can get out are uncontrollable whimpers, my nails digging at his shoulders.
Faintly, I’m aware of him making this satisfied groan in his chest, and it’s driving me crazy for him. I think it might be the thing that sends me over the edge the first time. The second is definitely him sliding two fingers in me and finding my g-spot, doing exactly what I need.
“Goddamn,” he says when I come after the second round. “You should’ve told me you needed it this bad, baby. You’re soaking the floor.”
My toes curl, spine arching as he flicks his tongue over my clit.
“You’re really fucking good at this,” I pant.
He dips down, licking over my pussy. “Nah, I think you’re just a really good girl.”
Oh Lord, I’m done for, aren’t I? He’s got the whole damn package: the body, the voice, the tongue, and the personality. I stand by what I said last night—come hell or high water, I’m locking this man down.
“One more,” he says.
“Coffee’s already cold,” I murmur. “Might as well make it two.”
I’m a sweaty, tousled mess when we’re finally done rolling around on the kitchen floor.
It turns into sex without a condom, which isn’t a good idea, but he pulls out.
At this point, I’m having all kinds of thoughts about how I’m never fucking leaving.
He can knock me up. I want to spend the rest of my life seeing those pretty brown eyes look up at me from between my thighs.
Sex without a condom turns into more sex without a condom.
That turns into sixty-nine-ing, which I’ve never liked until now, then more sex, on my belly with him over me.
He feels so good bare, big, thick, and just right for me, and I can’t stop myself.
Finally, we’re done, laying on our backs on the bare floor, panting. All that felt like it took hours, but a quick glance at the clock tells me it’s only been thirty minutes. I don’t know how that’s possible. Every second with him feels like hours in the best way.
We both laugh, not awkwardly but breathlessly. He helps me up and cleans me like he did last night. Then, I make coffee while he wipes up the floor. I put on his big t-shirt and grab a blanket, carrying the mugs to the front porch. He comes along in his sweats, sinking down on the stoop.
It’s cooler this morning. The mountains are hazy.
I feel sweet inside. His leg is touching mine, and I like his closeness.
“So, how was it?” he asks.
I laugh. “Do you need to ask all that?”
He shrugs. “I just want to make sure you got what you wanted.”
I look sideways at him. “I got everything I wanted.”
“Sex like that makes me want a fucking cigarette,” he drawls.
“You can. It’s alright.”
He shrugs, squinting down at the ground. “Nah, kinda trying to get off everything. I don’t want it, any of it.”
“Cigarettes aren’t the same as pills.”
“I know,” he says, lifting his eyes up to the mountains. Overhead, a handful of sparrows dip through the air and alight on the fence line. “I just want to be free of it all.”
I study his profile for a beat.
“You worry about relapsing?” I ask.
“On pills?”
“Nah, not pills,” he says. “But I do worry about trying to fill up that space with something else. I’m trying to be careful with staying away from drinking and shit. I’m just over it, done having shit in my system, any of it.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
He shrugs. “I’m good, I really am. And I’m ready for a new chapter.”
His words are careful, concise, like he’s thought about them but this is the first time he’s ever said them aloud. I like that; he’s speaking them into existence, and I’m lucky to be the one he’s trusting with them.
He shifts, his back against the top right railing. I turn, moving close until I’m sinking back into his arms beneath the blanket. His body is sturdy beneath mine. The coffee is good, and I don’t mind a bit that we’re getting some curious stares from passing wranglers.
Hell, they can just go ahead and call me Mrs. Hatfield.
This is it.
I take his hand. We don’t talk. I touch his pulse point with my two fingers.
I like the way he exists. Quiet, and yet so alive.