18. Anders #4
He doesn’t say it back, and I don’t expect him to, but I hear his soft hum of pleasure and I hope it’s because he hears me, even if he doesn’t believe me yet.
“I’m sorry, Kitten, but we need to get cleaned up, because I want to cook you breakfast before I have to go back to work.”
“Work,” he says slowly as I slide my cock out of him, groaning at the sight of his gaped, empty hole.
Unable to resist, I push two fingers into him, feeling my cum coating his passage.
“Oh my,” he whimpers, pushing back onto my fingers.
“Needy,” I say more to myself than him as I reluctantly slip my fingers out of him.
“It feels so empty,” he rasps.
“I’m sorry, Kitten. If I could, I’d stay with you. I’d sit you on my cock and keep you stretched and full while we watch TV.”
“What?” he blurts, turning to face me, his mouth hanging open.
Smiling, I laugh softly at his shocked expression. “I think you’d like keeping my cock warm in your ass.”
“That’s a thing?” he squeaks.
Chuckling, I nod. “Yes, Kitten, that’s a thing.” Shuffling off the bed, I hold out my hand to him, curling my fingers around his the moment he places his palm against mine. Leading him into the bathroom, I reach into the tub and turn the shower on.
“How’s your head?” I ask.
“My head?”
“Did I fuck the hangover out of you?” I ask on a laugh.
His cheeks burn red. “I was so sick last night.”
“I know, you tried to tell me you could sleep on the bathroom floor.”
“Oh god,” he groans, pulling his hand free from mine and covering his face.
“Etta told Cody she didn’t think you’d had more than three margaritas.”
“I’ve never drunk alcohol before,” he admits, splitting his fingers just far enough that I can see his eyes.
“You won’t be drinking again unless I’m here to pick you up and take care of you,” I scold, coating my words with dominance.
“I’m never drinking again. Ever,” he whines.
“Do you want me to get you some pain reliever? I put it beside the bed.”
“No. I think I’m okay. Maybe you did.” He pauses, swallows thickly, then blurts, “Fuck it out of me.”
“I’ll have to remember that the next time you get sloppy drunk,” I purr seductively. “Climb in, the water’s warm, and I have to leave soon.”
“Are you going to get fired?”
“Why would I get fired?” I ask, climbing into the tub after him and pulling the shower curtain around us.
“Because you should be at work, not here with me.”
“Buck told me to come and take care of you.”
“Who’s Buck?” he questions, tipping his head back and closing his eyes as the warm water soaks his hair.
“My boss.”
“Your boss knows I drank so much I puked?” he squeaks, snapping his horrified eyes open to glare at me.
“You were out drinking with his wife.”
“Who is his wife?” Henry asks.
“James. Tori is Nero’s fiancée; Etta is Oz’s wife, and obviously you know Parker.”
“Oh. James was nice. They’re all nice, although I’m not sure how I feel about being the only guy at girls’ night.”
“You should feel special; the guys usually end up invading the girl’s night because they never get invited.” Laughing, I reach for the soap and work it into his skin. I’d prefer to take my time, but I want to make him breakfast before I have to leave.
Swapping the soap for shampoo, I wash his hair, then quickly clean myself up, roughly washing my own hair before turning off the water and reaching for a towel. Handing him one first, I take one for myself, then follow him out of the bathroom.
“Do you have any plans today?” I ask him, itching to give him rules for our time apart.
“I think I agreed to meet Parker later, but my memory of last night is a little…hazy,” he admits with a grimace.
“Do you want me to grab you some clothes from the closet?” I ask as he flops exhaustedly down onto the end of the bed.
“Yes, please.”
I don’t bother trying to hide my smile as I pull on the clothes I came in last night then open his closet and peer inside.
The closet is fairly small, but still half empty even though his clothes are all hanging from the rail.
Spotting a pair of softly worn jeans, I pull them down, then grab a T-shirt and a thin knit sweater and some underwear.
“Shall I help?” I ask, not wanting to insist that I’ll be doing it, even though that’s what I want.
“Can I ask you a question?” he says tentatively.
“Of course.”
“Are you holding yourself back?”
I blink. “What?”
“You have this look on your face. I’ve seen it before, but I think I know what it is now. You’re holding back, stopping yourself from doing something, aren’t you?”
Inhaling sharply, I decide to be honest. “Yes, I’m holding back.”
“Why?” he questions.
“Because I don’t want to freak you out,” I admit.
“What do you want to do to me?” he asks, a hint of a tremor in his voice.
“I want you to let me take care of you.”
“How?”
“I want to get you dressed. I want to cook for you. I want to tell you not to leave the apartment unless you text me to tell me where you’re going and who you’re going with.
I want to demand that you text me later.
I want to tell you to call me once you get into bed and ask for permission to come.
And then if I allow it, I want you to jerk your dick while I listen and let me tell you what a good boy you are before you go to sleep.
” The words pour out of me in a rush, everything I need right in this moment but was stopping myself from admitting.