15. TUESDAY AFTERNOON — THE REED LAND, NORTH CAROLINA #2
Silas let out a whimper at the sensation, arching his back as his hips rocked into my hand.
He was chasing the pressure, silently pleading with me for more.
When he finally did pull himself from my mouth, he was a sight to behold; panting, breathless, and dazed with his hair strewn in a wild halo around his face.
“Lube,” he breathed, pausing to run his thumb against my lip. “In the…side table.”
I halted for a split second, glancing at the small wooden end table above my head. An amused smirk pulled at my lips while a wicked heat pooled within my gut. “Have you been casually hiding lube bottles throughout our house?”
Silas’s cheeks turned a seductive shade of pink, the flush spreading down his neck and over his collarbones. “I like being prepared.”
I stretched as far as I could, opening the side table drawer.
Silas let out a frustrated growl, shoving my arm from around his waist. He snatched the lube bottle from my hands the second I retrieved it with a desperate kind of greed.
Flicking the lid open with his thumb, he squeezed a generous amount of the cool substance into his palm.
Grabbing my throbbing cock, he eagerly stroked with a firm, slippery grip that was just enough to drive me completely insane.
My hips bucked upward instinctively, a sharp hiss leaving my teeth.
Silas wasted no time. He shifted himself back into place, aligning our bodies perfectly.
The blunt tip of my length pressed against his heated hole, but instead of sinking down, he hovered.
His hips gyrated in a slow circle, grinding the head of my cock against his sensitive entrance.
He was teasing himself, but more importantly, he was teasing me, trying to raise a reaction.
“Is this what you want?” he hummed in my ear, his voice dropping into a dark register that sent a shiver down my spine.
He lowered himself with precision at an agonizing pace.
The sensation of my crown slowly pushing past his tight ring of muscle as his warmth engulfed my length made me feel like I was going to come right then and there.
I gripped his hips, my thumbs digging into the bones to steady him.
My jaw was clenched so tight, my teeth ached when he finally sank down to the hilt, taking every inch of me.
Silas set the pace, shifting his weight until he had the perfect position to ride me in a steady, deliberate rhythm. He ground against me in a slow circle, drawing out every ounce of pleasure.
“Promise me,” Silas gasped, his head falling back to expose the long line of his throat. “Promise me we’re never going back to the way it was. I don’t care if they fire us, or if we lose the gold. Hell, they can strip my name from the history books. Just tell me I’m yours.”
“You’re mine, Silas Reed-Kincaid,” I rumbled possessively. The sound of our combined names, our final win, had me fucking his ass harder than ever before. I thrust upward, burying myself as deep as I could. “Always. To the fucking end.”
When our climaxes hit, it was a blinding, white-hot rush. Silas screamed my name, his internal muscles clenching around me so tight, it milked every drop as my own explosive release left my vision spotted with stars.
The couch had come alive with a feral, chaotic violence that left the decorative pillows thrown across the room and the throw blankets in total disarray.
Our bodies were slick with sweat and tangled together in a mess of limbs and heavy breathing.
Silas collapsed forward against my chest like dead weight, his heart thudding an accelerated beat against my own.
We stayed horizontal for a long time, tangled in the ruins of the sofa.
Everything was quiet, still, save for the ticking clock and our breathing, but it only lasted minutes before the need for each other and the heat flared up again.
Silas was clearly convinced we were done when I kissed his sweaty forehead and told him I was going to get us some water.
Except, when he started to roll off of me, I didn’t let his bare feet touch the hardwood floor.
I hooked my hand under his knee with my other splayed against his mid-back and stood up.
His legs wrapped instinctively around my waist, his arms looping around my neck to steady himself as I carried him out of the living room.
I marched into the kitchen and straight to the white marble island. Without any warning, I threw him onto the hard surface. The contrast of the cold polished stone against his overheated, sweat-slicked skin pulled a surprised gasp from his lips, his back arching off the counter.
“What are you doing?” A breathless laugh escaped him as I stepped between his spread legs.
My eyes tracked down his body, noticing my cum still leaking out of his flushed, swollen hole. It was a beautiful picture to see–his ass puckering tightly as I leaked from him onto the counter.
Any other time, the idea of fucking on the kitchen island, the one I wiped down religiously and never even set a hot pan on, would have been a total no-go.
But right now… everything was out the window when it came to where we could have sex in our house.
This was our sanctuary, our space, and I was going to claim him against every inch of it.
With absolutely no protest from Silas, I took him right there on the edge of the island. I gripped the thick muscle of his thighs, pulling him to the edge of the stone, and drove into him without any foreplay.
It was fast, hard, and unyielding, the complete opposite of the gentle, yet frantic, sex we just had on the couch. The sound of our bodies slapping together echoed sharply throughout the room. This time wasn't about comfort, his or mine. This was pure need.
“Cal, fuck! Yes!” Silas cried out, his hands gripping the edge of the marble so hard his knuckles were bone-white. I pounded into him with a relentless, bruising rhythm until his spine bent and his head was thrown back in ecstasy.
It was our celebration, a physical manifestation of the fact we were finally, legally, and irrevocably together. The kitchen, the very heart of the home he’d meticulously renovated for us to share, was now officially marked.
We fucked until my thighs burned, and his voice was hoarse, chasing that second release which left us both completely and utterly drained. By the time he slid off the counter to lean against the lower cabinets, we both needed time to catch our breath.
Later in our bedroom, after a solid two-hour nap cuddled in our bed, the energy in the house shifted yet again.
The sun was starting to set, casting long vibrant orange rays across the bed, bathing the room in a warm, cinematic glow.
We were lying side by side, our fingers loosely intertwined.
The physical exhaustion had settled into my bones, but my mind was still buzzing.
It twirled with a deep, pulling need for something different.
Some act to show him that I was his entirely, and to surrender the control I usually guarded so fiercely.
“I want to try something,” I whispered, breaking the silence and shifting on the bed.
I moved down the mattress, laying with my back flat against the sheets and my head hanging completely off the end of the bed. It was a highly disorienting position. The blood immediately rushed to my head and the room spun slightly as I looked up at the ceiling from an inverted angle.
“What are you doing?” Silas laughed, crawling closer and peering over the edge of the mattress.
I gave him a wicked, challenging grin as I lifted my head to look at him. “Walk over here,” I ordered as my head fell back again.
Without question, Silas stood from our bed and walked around to the foot of it.
He was wearing my old, faded pajama pants with the drawstring untied.
The fabric hung dangerously low on his Adonis belt, his cock directly in front of my face.
I reached up, grabbing hold of the soft flannel fabric on his thighs, and tugged it down in a swift motion.
Even though Silas was playing the confused card, he knew exactly what was happening, and his cock certainly knew it was about to get the attention it wanted.
I didn't let him say a word as I leaned up and took this length deep into my mouth. Each vein along his shaft slid across my tongue as I swallowed him as far as I could.
“Holy f-fuck!” Silas groaned. His knees buckled slightly as his hand curled around the side of my neck. Long fingers squeezed against my nape, his nails digging against my skin.
On my first gag, he took charge. My eyes watered, tears and saliva mixing as they spilled across my skin.
Long tracks of the fluid hit my temples and pooled in my ears as he fucked my face.
Each movement started out slow and deliberate, watching as my lips stretched around him.
His hips continually rocked forward to push himself to the back of my throat.
He held himself there, cutting off my airway for a solid minute, before he would pull back enough to let me gasp a breath.
It was a power play maneuver that anchored me to this earth, to him.
With my head in this position and the blood rushing fiercely to my brain, every sensation was magnified a hundredfold.
The smooth, hot feel of his cock as he slid down my throat, the sound of his heavy, ragged breaths echoing throughout the quiet room, and the physical weight of him standing over me—it was the only thing in my universe.
I gripped the sheets, my knuckles blanching as I surrendered to him. I'd let him take whatever he needed and give me whatever he wanted in return.
"Fuck, b-babe…" Words came out in jagged, desperate syllables as he tried to maintain his pace.