Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
“Sweets.” A gentle pat on the ass jostles me awake.
Yawning quietly into the welcoming valley between his pecs dusted in the right amount of curly hair, I blink a handful of times to remember where I am before I look up and meet a pair of soft-edged grays seeking mine.
“Did I snore?” I chuckle and peck the center of his chest, wearing the silliest lopsided smirk.
He returns a smirk like he finds my question endearing. “Nope. I don’t think so. I passed out, too.”
“Guess we needed that. Huh?” My fingertips trail up his ribs to his chest, where my middle and pointer fingers dance the jig around his nipple. Each of them act as legs, supporting my top-heavy hand.
Sunshine snorts but lets me have my way as his stomach vibrates against mine in silent laughter. On accident, my middle finger catches his nipple, and he sucks in a sharp breath.
“Sweets,” he warns when his body betrays him, and the thing hidden in his pants rises to the occasion. So, I was right, pain does excite him. Maybe not Sunshine the man, but the specific part of his anatomy seems to take notice.
To prove my theory, I rest my cheek on his opposite pec and continue my finger dance. Each time my nail scrapes his nipple, his entire body jolts, electrified. It’s incredibly hot.
On the fourth pass, his hand clamps on my side, on the fleshy part, just below my ribs. I can’t tell if it’s in warning or to make me stop, but when I peek up at his face, a mask of what can only be described as pleasure covers his features.
I try again, hurting his poor nipple, but this time, I pay close attention to his expression and how his dick reacts. He winces, but his cock bucks, and the hand on my side trembles as his fingers dig into my flesh, making my pussy clench.
Desperate to see how far I can take this before he forces me to stop, I pinch and roll his nipple hard. Then harder.
Sunshine’s neck elongates, and he moans before inhaling harshly through his nose.
Careful not to disrupt this sensual, experiential bubble we’re in, I slowly turn my head and suck his other nipple as I pinch its twin. His back arches off the mat, breath stuttering out of his lungs. In response, wetness slickens my swollen folds, not giving a damn he wrecked them just yesterday. She’s ready for him now. I’m ready for him now. One move, and I could free his erection and slide him home right where it belongs. But I don’t. This isn’t about me or my pleasure. This is about him. It’s about trust .
Taking it another step further, I bite and nibble on his peaked nipple, then lave the sting away. The harder I play, the more pain I incite, and the more intense his reactions are. Moans grow louder, deeper. His entire frame stiffens. Fingers bruise my flesh, but I don’t stop. Not unless he begs me.
I don’t stop when I slide a hand between our bodies and into his sweats.
Not when I grip his raging hard-on, damp with precum.
Or when I dig my short nails into his shaft, and he keens the sexiest, broken sound I’ve ever heard in my life.
The late afternoon sunlight dances across his sharp features and the gray of his beard as I watch on. The squeeze of his eyes. The flare of his nostrils when I cup his balls, and he spreads his legs enough for me to roll them in my palm before applying pressure.
“Fuck,” he grunts.
Ah. So, his balls are his weak spot—the man’s undoing.
Oh, how I revel in the power. In the knowledge.
And he lets me.
Nipping his nipple then the next, not wanting either to feel unloved, I destroy his poor balls. Squeezing and twisting them until sweat blooms across his brow and his mouth pops open in a soundless scream.
His violent shudder nearly topples me over, but I don’t relent. Not yet. Not until he’s done.
Wanting to test another theory, just in case I might be right, I sit up and scoot back until I’m straddling his thighs. Sunshine lifts his hips just enough for me to tug his sweats down to expose his precious cargo. Then I squish his thighs together with my own, forcing his balls to hug the underside of his erection.
They’re big. Heavy. Dusted in a smattering of hair.
My mouth waters as I drag the tip of my finger up to his wet cockhead as it drips precum like a fountain.
Using its offering to my advantage, I coat my palm and get to real work—jacking his thick, veiny shaft and abusing his precious jewels.
I slap his nuts.
He fists his hands at his sides, struggling to breathe as he chews his bottom lip like he’s trying not to scream.
“That’s it,” I coax and grip his shaft like I’d imagine any masochist would crave.
My reward—a wrecked, barely comprehensible moan.
“Do you like me hurting your cock?” I purr.
He nods.
“Say the words.”
He gasps.
That won’t do.
I slap his balls when he doesn’t respond, then, because I can, I jack him hard and fast until my forearm burns. Just when I think he might explode, I stop, and he sags onto the mat, expelling a loud, uneven groan.
“I asked you a question.” Leaving his cock to settle for a moment, I use this break to claw up and down his stomach, leaving dark red streaks in my wake. I don’t touch his nipples. They don’t deserve the attention until he gives me exactly what I want.
“I…”
“Yes?” I prompt .
“I… Fuck.”
Cupping his sac, I wrap my fingers around him like a homemade testicle cuff and pull, drawing them from his body slowly until his upper body levitates off the mat, only anchored by the top of his head as he cries out so deep and deliciously it vibrates in my chest, seeps into my soul, and luxuriates there.
A small gush of clear liquid oozes from his slit.
“Tell me.” I twist my wrist, taking those beautiful orbs with me, and he bucks so hard I’m airborne for half a beat before resettling on his thighs.
Yes.
We’re getting somewhere.
Finally.
“Colton. Tell. Me.”
“Please.”
“Please, what?”
“I want to come.”
No. No. No. Dear man. I don’t think so. To prove that was the wrong answer, given what we are doing, I slap his cock so hard it ricochets off his thigh, spraying precum everywhere before it swings back. I do it again. And again. Until it’s the perfect shade of crimson, and the veins are angry at me, rising to the surface. Throbbing.
My mouth waters, wanting to trace every one of them with my tongue. But that can’t happen. Not now.
This is surrendering.
A chance to explore.
To submit.
To accept his body's deepest yearnings.
I’m blessed to be the woman he trusts enough to give it to him. Enough to crack open his box of kink and let me be there for him like he is for me.
“I take your cum, Colton, whenever I want. But first, I need those words. Give them to me.”
“I like you hurting me.”
“Where?”
“My cock.”
“Is this what you want?” I slap his angry erection, and he hisses the sexiest, “ Yessss.”
“How about this?” I squeeze his balls until I’m afraid they’ll burst like ripe fruit.
Sunshine’s vigorous nod is adorable as a string of incoherent moans pours from his wet, chewed-up lips.
Leaning down, bending myself in half, I suck his cockhead into my mouth. The burst of clean and salt is addicting as I carefully bite and nibble his glans.
“Fuck!” His body gets stiff as a board, every muscle locking down tight. Thick ropes of cum explode from Sunshine’s cock into my awaiting mouth. I gobble up every drop, sucking him into the back of my throat, savoring the salty brine until he melts beneath me into a puddle of sated bliss.
Only then do I deliver a final kiss to his slit, hum in satisfaction when it offers me another pearl of cum, that I happily lick away, and climb back up my man’s body to kiss his fine mouth. Not missing a beat, Sunshine cups the back of my head and ravishes my lips, unlike anyone I’ve ever kissed before. It lasts forever, yet not long enough. It’s everything. It’s us.
When we finally detach, neither of us can breathe, and I’m a little drunk .
“Wow.” I collapse on his chest.
“Yeah. Wow.” He holds my head to his pec and kisses my forehead. “That was…”
“Amazing,” I answer for him.
An awkward laugh bursts from his chest. “You swallowed my cum.”
“Yeah. It was delicious.” I slurp loudly to lighten the mood, then revel in the taste that lingers in my mouth.
Sunshine huffs. “I’m not sure about that.”
“I am. So, hush.” I flick his nipple to cement my point, which elicits a groan from the man.
“Stop. You devil woman.”
“We don’t believe in the devil, Colton,” I tease.
“Fine,” he concedes with a light chuckle.
We rest for a few minutes, him drawing shapes across my back, me soaking in his warmth.
“That was fun,” I comment to make polite conversation. Alright, maybe not polite conversation. I want to talk about what just happened. I know he enjoyed it, but sometimes, the post-orgasm brain is not the same as the pre-orgasm brain, especially for men. One tends to wear rose-colored glasses, and you feel a lot different once those glasses come off and reality sets in.
Sunshine snorts an offbeat laugh, and his stomach vibrates beneath me. “That was… I don’t even know.” I sense his head shake.
“Good?” I offer.
“Not exactly.”
“Would you want to do it again?”
“Yes.”
That’s what I like to hear .
Proud of myself, I smile. “If I hurt you like that when we have sex, do you think you’d come?”
“Can we worry about that later, Sweets?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you.” He kisses the top of my head. “So why don’t we get somethin’ in your belly.”
“I already have somethin’ in my belly,” I quip, and he chuckles and nudges my hip, then squeezes it as if asking me without words to, at the very least, sit up.
Pushing off his shoulder, I straddle his hips, and his spent cock settles between my pussy lips. The man doesn’t wait a second to cup my bare breasts, but he’s sweet about it, acting more like a makeshift bra than like a naughty man trying to cop a feel.
Choosing not to comment on the boob fondling, I ask, “What do you wanna eat?”
His brows bounce cheekily, and I slap him on the chest.
“Colton,” I gasp in mock outrage, even though I’m grinning like a loon.
“What?” He shrugs. “You asked. You’re the one who started it.”
“That’s fair,” I relent. “I did.”
“Your pussy needs a break, and my dick is still trying not to freak out after what just happened. That was intense. So why don’t we spend the night on the couch, watchin’ a movie, and we’ll water the plants before bed.”
“And?”
He hums, thinking. “We smudge the gifts from Penelope and the rest of the house?”
“Sounds perfect.” I nod in agreement and swoop down for another quick kiss, which he returns as sweetly with three extra smooches and a firm pat to the ass.
Together, we pick up the discarded crystals and lay them on a greenhouse windowsill to recharge before rolling up our yoga mats. We feed the koi and gather Sunshine’s phone before heading back inside.
Not bothering to ask what I want for dinner because he knows what I like, Sunshine pulls two steaks from the freezer and two large potatoes from the bottom of the pantry. He thaws the meat and grills it on the back patio with his signature seasonings as I prepare the potatoes for our side and throw together a quick salad for a bit of roughage.
Rock music pumps through my portable speaker as we prepare our meal. Finally, with plates full, we sit at the island and enjoy our delicious dinner with a glass of red.
Our thighs touch to stay connected as I sip. “I love this wine.”
“I know.” He clinks his glass with mine and swallows the final dredges of his red. “That’s why I always keep the house supplied.”
I peek at him out of the corner of my eye. “You’re too good to me.”
He makes a noncommittal sound in his throat as if he doesn’t believe me. Either that, or I’m making him uncomfortable. It doesn’t make it any less true. The man listens when I talk, no matter how nonsensical the words are.
When I wanted an albino monstera plant, one arrived a week later. When I fell in love with this black, full-length, Gothic Victorian-styled mirror in a horror movie we watched, he found a replica. It graces my living room wall and looks fantastic against my Gothic wallpaper.
Grateful for his thoughtfulness, my stomach churns in a giddy, girlish way as I reflect on his kindness throughout my life. Wanting to express how much that means without saying anything else that would make him uncomfortable, I lean over to kiss his bare shoulder and resume eating as if our little conversation never happened.
After dinner, we clean up together and return to the living room, where he places a fresh poultice against my pussy. We cuddle on the couch—me settled between his legs, my back to his front, his arms around me, watching The VVitch , a creepy horror movie I’ll never tire of rewatching.
Life couldn’t be any sweeter.
I’m a lucky woman.