Chapter 19 #2
The rest of the flight passes in a blur, and we’re landing back in Washington before I know it. I wave goodbye to the assholes I’ve spent the last twelve days with, then hop into my AMG and gun it for home.
Lights are on when I push the door open, and I hear her tablet playing in the background. I drop my bag and slip my shoes off, expecting her to come running to me any moment.
But she doesn’t. I find her curled up on the couch, fast asleep. I’m not surprised. I’ve picked up on her habit of sleeping out here when I’m on the road. I hate that she’s not getting good rest without me, but I also find it sweet as hell. I’d do the same thing if roles were reversed.
I stand there staring at her for far too long, just watching her.
She looks so beautiful in the glow of whatever movie she was watching on her device.
The lights dance across her cheeks, highlighting her long lashes that fan out against her skin.
Eventually, I drop to my haunches, then brush an errant hair from her face.
She stirs and her forest eyes flutter open, a smile tugging at her lips.
“Hey,” she says, her voice thick with sleep. “Aw, did I fall asleep? I’m sorry, I tried to stay awake. I just?—”
Her words are cut off by a yawn, and I chuckle.
“It’s fine. It’s late, and I know you worked earlier.”
“I did, but it wasn’t just that. I spent a few hours at the coffee shop down the street drawing. It got too loud, though, even with my headphones, so I left.”
“I’m sorry. I wish you had someplace quiet.”
“Me too. Maybe when I get my own place.”
She says it so casually that it nearly knocks me over. I don’t want her to get her own place. I want this to be her home too, but I don’t say so. She’s clearly not interested in that.
“Yeah, maybe.” I brush my lips across her forehead. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”
Despite her protests, I swoop her into my arms and carry her through the living room and to my bedroom. She giggles sleepily when I drop her on the bed, then pulls me down right on top of her.
“Hi,” she says with a wide grin.
“Hi yourself.” I kiss her gently, not missing how she arches her hips up to me. “Are you trying to get frisky with me, Nessa?”
She nibbles on her bottom lip. “Maybe.”
Then she yawns again, and I laugh.
“Maybe next time,” I say, kissing her again, then rolling away.
“Wait. Where are you going?” she complains, but her eyes are already closed again.
“Bathroom. Go to sleep, love.”
She grins, already half asleep as she says, “I love it when you call me that.”
I know she does, which is why I do it so often.
When I come back out, she’s dead asleep.
There would be no waking her up if I tried, which I don’t want to.
I have something to take care of. I slip out of the bedroom and tiptoe through the living room and down the hall that leads to the other bedroom.
Nessa has given me so much since I’ve known her, and now I want to give her something too.
I step into my spare bedroom and get to work.
“Okay, I really need you to stop being so perfect.”
I turn to find a sleepy-looking Nessa in nothing but my shirt. She must have traded it for her own before coming out here, and I’m not surprised. She loves wearing my clothes almost as much as I love seeing her in them.
I finally crawled into bed about two and a half hours ago, but I was restless. I try to blame it on the jet lag, but with how much I travel, I’m immune to it. It’s all because of the blonde cutie padding into the kitchen and slipping her arms around me.
“Mmm,” she says, pressing her lips against the middle of my back. “It smells good. What are you making?”
“Just bacon, eggs, and hashbrowns. Nothing fancy.”
“Anything is fancy if I don’t have to make it.”
Since Nessa moved in, we’ve settled into a routine where I make breakfast whenever I’m home and she makes or orders dinner.
I tried to argue with her over it at first because I didn’t let her move in so she could take care of me, but she wasn’t hearing it.
She claimed it was the least she could do for giving her somewhere to live.
She doesn’t know I’d give her anything. All she has to do is ask.
“I’ll grab the plates,” she says, moving to the cabinet I know she can’t reach.
I watch in amusement as she struggles to get them out. I could move them lower, sure, but what would be the fun in that? I enjoy the view of her trying to reach them far too much to do that, especially when her shirt— my shirt—rides up and gives me a peek of her ass.
When she struggles for just long enough, I turn off the burners and drop the spatula, then go to her.
I press against her, just like I have so many other times, and reach over her to grab the plates.
I kiss the back of her neck, sweeping the tendrils of hair that have managed to escape her messy bun out of the way.
She sighs, leaning into my touch. “You do this on purpose, don’t you?”
“Maybe,” I say against her skin. “It is a nice show.”
“Show? Is that what you think I’m putting on when I can’t reach the plates?”
“No.” I slide my hand down her back, cupping those beautiful cheeks she just gave me a glimpse of. “But I’m sure you’re genuinely annoyed. Thing is, sometimes I like to annoy you. You turn into a bit of a brat when I do.”
She laughs lightly. “I knew it. I knew you like it when I get sassy.”
“To be fair, I like everything about you, love.”
I feel her shiver in my arms at the nickname, remembering how she said last night that she loves it.
She groans. “You’re not being fair.”
“How so?” I tease my fingers under her panties, my other hand sliding up the front of her t-shirt and over her tit that fits perfectly in my palm.
“You can’t put me in this position with your hard cock brushing against me and call me love. Not with breakfast sitting there getting cold. It’s not fair.”
“That’s okay. I have something else I’d like to eat far more.”
I drop to my knees, taking her underwear right along with me, and she gasps as my lips land against her.
“Gavin.” She says my name on a moan, her head dropping back.
“That’s right. That’s exactly who is about to eat this pussy. Say it again.”
“Gavin.”
“Again,” I instruct as I spread her, forcing her onto her tiptoes.
“Gavin!” she cries out when I slide my tongue along her, from her pussy right back to her hole that I haven’t yet played with.
She tenses, then melts against me.
“Oh my god,” she whines as I lick her again. “Holy… Don’t stop, please .”
She’s begging now, and I’m more than happy to accommodate her.
I do it again, slipping my tongue into her cunt for a moment before running it back over her tight ring.
She pushes back when I do it, and I grin against her.
This time, I focus on her ass, tasting her and thriving off the moans filling the kitchen.
“I think I could come like this,” she says through pants. “I just need…”
She puts her hand between her legs, and I know exactly what she’s doing, drawing tight circles over her clit.
It’s fucking hot. My tongue in her ass, her hand on her cunt.
Too hot, in fact. Before I even realize what’s happening, I blow my load right into my pants like some out-of-control fucking teenager instead of an almost forty-year-old man.
It would be embarrassing if Nessa weren’t coming right along with me.
“Gavin, Gavin, Gavin,” she chants as she shakes harder than I’ve felt her shake before.
When she finally comes down, I realize it’s not enough. Even though I just came, my cock is still rock hard, and I need to be inside her. I rip my cum-soaked pants down, toss her leg up on the counter, and slide inside her.
“Oh god!” she shouts as I slam into her again and again. It’s rougher than I’ve fucked her before, and I can’t help myself.
I don’t know what’s come over me. It feels animalistic or something, like I’m going to go crazy if I don’t fill her up right this second.
I pound into her, watching as her hands grip the counter tighter and tighter with each thrust. When I’m close, I slip my hand between us and press my finger right against the tight hole I just had my tongue all over.
“Fuck,” she groans, pushing into me, the digit sliding into her.
Watching her fuck herself on my finger is exactly what I need to send me over the edge, and I empty myself inside her as she comes right along with me. When the last of my orgasm leaves me, I drop my head to her shoulder, trying to catch my breath as I pull out, settling her back on the floor.
We stand like that for a long time, and I’m not exactly sure who moves first, but we eventually make our way to the shower. We rinse each other off with gentle hands, unable to look away from one another.
Breakfast never gets eaten, and it’s still somehow the best meal I’ve ever had.