39. Tate
Pitstop: Shoulders, knees, and toes?
My teammates have no idea why I’ve cracked up laughing. And to be honest I have no intention of sharing it with them. They don’t need to know I have a hard-on for my girl. At least I hope not. If they do, they’re politely ignoring the stretch in the crotch of my pants.
It’s been a few hours, the twins and I are both sweaty, both my car and my parents SUV are stuffed so full with bags there’s only room up front for a driver, not even a passenger.
We’ve done good work. We’ve cleared out most of my parent’s clothes, shoes, jackets and winter gear, and over half of Mom’s bags and shoes have gone into bags for Goodwill.
My car has mostly things that aren’t fit for other people to wear, or underwear. They’ll be going to a clothing recycling bin. But everything in Dad’s SUV will be going to charity.
There are a couple piles of things for Pitstop to go through. She might not want any of it, but I wanted to give her the option to have something of Mom’s if she wanted to. Some of those bags are really fucking nice. And I don’t speak fashion.
Apollo, Artemis, and I are sitting out on my folks’ back deck. The fire pit’s lit, we’re bundled up in some of my winter gear, and we’re sipping frosty cold beer from bottles.
So much about the past six weeks has felt broken, shit, destroying, consuming, and as though I’d never be able to pull in a full breath to my lungs for as long as I live.
This is the first time the tension in my ribs has eased, even just a little. I don’t know if it’s because Penelope has gone to do something for herself for the first time in over a month. Or if it’s because I’ve made progress on my parents’ house, or maybe it’s because I’m starting to let myself believe that the guys have got my back now that my folks have gone.
Either way, sitting here, the weight pressing against my chest and weighing down my shoulders feels a bit less. And that’s something I’ll drink to.
By the time Penelope comes back, I’m showered, the kitchen is picked up, and the twins have helped me get my parents’ house in some kind of order. I feel... steadier.
“Satan? Where are you?”
“I fucking love that she calls you Satan.” Artemis pushes up to his feet from the couch. “He’s in here, Penelope.”
When she appears in the doorway, she’s got a bag from Get the Fork Out in her hand. My girl brought me pie. At least she better have brought me pie, or I’ll be stealing her pie.
“That’s our cue to skedaddle.” Apollo joins his brother, standing and moving toward the door.
“Get over here, She Devil.” I curl my finger at her but she places the bag on the end of the couch.
“I’ll see our guests out.”
Ugh. I hate that she’s such a good hostess, because in truth, that’s what at least one of us should do, but I just need my hands on her.
Artemis reads the room. “It’s all good. We’ll see ourselves out.”
And they do, but Penelope stands staring at me, worrying her lip between her teeth, uncertainty in her eyes.
“It’s not going to suck itself, Pitstop.”
That makes a smile flicker across her face. “Don’t make me stab you, Satan.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t want it.”
From the way she licks her lips, I’m on to something.
“Maybe I’m just hungry for pie.” She shrugs.
“Maybe I’m hungry for that juicy pussy of yours.”
She’s still hesitating. I don’t blame her, it’s been an emotional week where we haven’t had much by way of physical intimacy.
When she kneels next to my feet, my cock can’t help but respond. It presses against the seam of my sweats, and if I were in tighter pants I’d be uncomfortable right now.
She tugs my sweatpants down my thighs, letting my cock spring free. It’s already wet, and from the hunger in Pitstop’s eyes, it’s about to get wetter.
She licks her lips again. “You sure?”
My nod is short, because I’m already pushing her head toward my crotch. “Please?”
She grins up at me, her hair falling around her face. “I like hearing you say please.” She pulls back. “Maybe I’ll just sit here and make you say please all night.”
I shove her face closer to my cock, and she kisses the tip. Fuck. The brief moment of contact is enough to send lightning dancing up my spine.
When she tickles the head of my cock with the tip of her tongue a shiver rolls through me. “Fuck, Pistop.”
“You literally summoned me back to suck you off?”
Shrugging at her just makes her smile wider.
“What can I say? The urge to cover your sassy face in my cum was just too much to handle.”
She sucks my cock all the way to the back of her throat, then hums, loudly.
Fucking hell. The tingles she sends over my body are warm and race everywhere all at once.
“Penelope.” Her name catches in the back of my throat.
“Shhh,” she mumbles around my cock. “Just let me take care of you.”
Is there anything more beautiful than a gorgeous woman on her knees sucking your cock?
If there is, I haven’t found it.
Her hair ripples in the light as she bobs her head up and down, hollowing out her cheeks as she sucks me like she might be able to suck the pain out of my body if she sucks hard enough.
When I spear my fingers into her hair, she moans, gurgling against my tip as her drool drips from the shaft.
“So fucking sexy, Pitstop.”
When she cups and squeezes my balls, my eyes roll back in my head. The heaviness building, coupled with the pressure from her palm, is almost enough to push me over the edge.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” My hip bucks, sending my cock against her throat, and she gags.
“Sorry. I?—”
She stops me from pulling back, gripping my hips so I can’t take my cock back even an inch. And she sucks harder.
There’s little warning before I buck again, sending jets of cum into the back of her throat. She looks up at me, her eyes wide and watering, then smiles.
Shit.
If I had any more cum left in my balls, she’d make me blow my load all over again, just from that satisfied look in her eyes.
She rests her head on my lap as I catch my breath, stroking the side of her face.
“I needed that.” Not quite sure if I mean the purge of my parent’s things, hanging with the twins and drinking a beer, or the fact my beautiful girl came back to make me feel better. Maybe all of it.
Emotion wells in my chest, an unexpected lump appearing in my throat, expanding so big it makes me croak.
“Tate?” Concerned eyes look up at me from my lap.
I don’t answer, instead, I stroke her face and hair while I fight the brewing tears rushing to my eyes.
Blinking them back doesn’t help. A moment ago, I was spilling my load into my girlfriend’s mouth, and now... now I’m crying at her.