Thirty-One
Tait
Sex with Henry is… more. So much more than my dirty little imagination was capable of. There are more orgasms, sure… but there’s also more laughter, more words—God, so many words of praise, more touching, more tasting.
The rain and our needs are relentless through the night, with sleep scattered in between tangled limbs. I woke up at some point in the night to get a glass of water from his bathroom—which, I can happily report is yet another lovely one. But when I saw him approach me from the reflection in the mirror, all thoughts of hydration fled.
He bent me over the cool counter, fucked me from behind while his eyes never left mine in the mirror. I remember the way he lifted my hips, the way his knees bent to the backs of mine as he lowered and as I went on my toes so we could align, the furrowed, determined expression on his face and his praise as I came apart around him .
“So fucking good, honey. God, look at you. So fucking beautiful when you come. I’ll never get enough of you. Do you know that?”
I open my eyes to a still dark sky in the early hours of the morning when I feel him reach for me again, kissing slowly down the column of my spine. He gets to my lower back and groans.
“Do you know you have two dimples in your lower back here?” he asks against my skin, his voice husky in the morning, making my face smile into the pillow and my toes curl.
He kisses them with smiling, wet, open-mouthed kisses, and I discover a newly sensitive spot, the sensations bleeding from where he kisses down through my center.
“Mmmm, the only way this wakeup call could get better is if you let me sip coffee while you do this,” I say.
He chuckles. “I’m offended that you think you’ll have the focus for coffee sipping,” he mumbles, kissing over to the other side. “Besides, we have all day to sleep. Can’t set up for the party until this rain lets up, anyway.” He kneads my backside as he runs his tongue back up to my shoulder blades and a little moan escapes me.
“And…” He suddenly whispers deeply in my ear, and I gasp. “Coffee is brewing.”
I moan a breathy, pornstar-worthy, “Yesssss!”
At that he rumbles a low laugh, deftly flipping me over and beaming down at me. My breath hitches at the sight before me. Knees on either side of my hips, pinning me down, his massive body in all its glory in the gray morning light. There’s nothing groomed about him; the whorls of hair on his massive chest trail down his hard abdomen (not exactly a six pack but defined and chiseled by work and use, with prominent obliques) to between his legs, and oh—I like that. I like that I can’t imagine him taking the time to worry about grooming, or working out for aesthetics, just for what his body does for him. The dull ache between my thighs reminds me of all that body has done for me already. His cock nudges above my belly button as he leans over. “Eyes, up here, Tait.” I watch in fascination as he begins to harden under my gaze, and because I can’t help myself, I reach for him. He hisses, moving to kiss me, but I slap my palm over my mouth, dropping him to slap heavily against my belly. “Mrningbrth,” I say beneath my hand.
“I don’t care, Tait,” he says, trying to pry my hand away.
“Nnnno!” I try to shout as he feigns a struggle.
“Has anyone ever told you that you are deceptively strong?” He laughs, but then easily flicks my hand away, pinning it to the bed. I clamp my mouth together.
“Let’s have it, then.”
I shake my head back and forth as he continues to bend closer and closer.
“Come on, honey, let’s just get it over with. I’m dying to find out if this is your second flaw.”
That gets me. “What’s my first!?”
“Ha, gotcha. Oh, okay it’s not great, maybe I have a spare toothbrush.” I thrash underneath him, indignant, even as he laughs and kisses my re-sealed mouth.
“Asshole!” I spit out, and he bites my lip.
“Ooohh, feisty, are we?” He laughs all out as I try to breathe through my nose. Eventually I tire myself out—I’m running on fumes in terms of sleep here—and he kisses me.
I let him, but decide I just want to feel fresh anyway. I’m sticky from sweat and tongues and all manner of filthy, wonderful things, and I probably smell as such. “Really, though, I need my toothbrush, and a shower, Hen. ”
“But it’s raining, Tait.” He pouts adorably.
“Henry…” I try for my firmest, warning tone.
“Alright, alright. But no clothes. I’ll drive you to your place really quick and back… then, we’ll put that bathroom you’ve been dreaming about to good use.”
I feel my eyes and smile grow as we get up. I can’t stop a squeal, kissing his cheeks before he stands all the way up. He turns, granting me the most perfect view of his ass as he heads to his dresser, firm and full above strong legs dusted in wiry hairs. And then I catch sight of him from behind—heavy, thick, and long, and my insides clutch around emptiness.
But then he pulls on some sweats and I busy myself fashioning the sheet into a toga of sorts. Before I move to do it, he bends to a knee and slips on my boots for me, one at a time, and I wonder how he’s managing to make me blush with this simple gesture, despite seeing every inch of me already.
“Wait…,” I hear myself say.
He looks up at me, all bedhead and strength, and I feel like an insane woman but I have to have him again, right now.
My face must read like an open book because without saying anything or breaking eye contact, he parts my sheet-toga and slides one long finger through my folds.
“One more, but then we need to eat and caffeinate before you turn into a real monster.” He smiles up at me as he slides his finger in. I groan, letting my head fall back and eyes close again, tender and swollen and so sweetly sore.
He works me over slowly with that one finger, and I catch sight of him palming himself through his sweats, the outline of him impossibly hard again. …
BANG.
BANG. BANG.
BANGBANGBANGBANG
“Tait! Are you in there?!” calls a familiar, faraway voice.
I feel the color drain from my face as Henry slips out of me. “What the fuck?” I say.
Fun fact: Hurrying down stairs sounds simple enough in theory, but it’s actually hysterical and awkward, and painfully slower than you’d imagine. Especially when sharing those stairs with a giant, tightening a toga, and adjusting sweats accordingly. The slap, slap of our feet on the steps echoes as the seconds last hours.
“Stay here,” I hiss-whisper.
“I think not,” he says, clearly trying to protect me. “It’s my house,” he adds.
“Please,” I plead.
He frowns down at me, standing on the bottom landing, but nods. I kiss his arm for reassurance… mine or his, I’m not sure.
BANGBANGBANG
“Goddamn it, Tait, it’s pouring out here, let us in!”
Us?!
Finally, I make it to the door, and take a deep breath before I crack it open.
Lucy’s face comes into view first, sporting a wince. Then Grady’s, trying (and failing) to hide a smirk.
Lastly—“Ava? What the hell?”