Chapter 33 Oren
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
OREN
Wiping a smudge of white across my face, I stuck my tongue out as I stirred the batter for the cake I’d decided to make from scratch. A simple vanilla cake with pink frosting—one you’d see in any grocery store.
But fuck me.
This shit was harder than my cock last night when Thorne decided to tackle me to the ground, unaware he’d waited for me.
Adjusting the pink apron he’d elected to get me as a joke, the words hot tamale spelled across the front, I smeared batter from my hand onto it. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one with the idea to give Mercy a taste as he stole the spoon, gifting it to her as she happily licked my hard work.
“Do you want this fucking cake to get done, or would you like to continue to block my kitchen space?”
Craning his head to look up at me from where he sat slouched on the barstool, his dimples made their appearance. “I am simply allowing Mercy the privilege of tasting your immaculate cooking.”
She sneezed as if in agreement, and I couldn’t help but shake my head. “Yeah, well, if you want any other tastings to happen this evening, I need space to finish this. We have guests arriving any moment, and you’re the one who kept bothering me while I was cooking.”
“And you’re the one who wanted to make a simple cake,” he mocked, his shoulders bouncing with his laughter. “Not my problem, you elected to hop into Betty Crocker mode.”
“Not my problem, you elected to kiss me as a distraction. I’m behind schedule, and this is our first party in our home. I want it to be perfect.”
“You want everything to be perfect all the time, dove.” He stood, kicking the barstool beneath the counter before walking toward me.
Positioning himself at my back, he wrapped his arms around my waist, planting a gentle kiss to the side of my head before whispering, “And let it be known, this entire shitfest was your idea, so I don’t want to hear you whine about a schedule. ”
“Oh, shut up. I’m doing it for the children,” I mocked, craning my neck to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Prince loves an audience, and it’s about time he had some company to entertain him.”
Craning his head further, he nuzzled into my neck, nipping against my skin. “I’d much rather entertain something else…”
“You’re distracting me again, and it’s working. I’m about to say fuck it to the cake, and fuck you instead.”
His lids lowered, hooding his honeyed stare. The baseball cap he wore pulled his long locks from his face, twisted back just the way he knew made me weak. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want, Oren Valens.”
“Yeah, Thorne Graves?” I bit my lip, raising a brow in contemplation. “But the children will see,” I whispered, feigning a gasp.
Grabbing my wrist, he pulled my palm to rest flush against his already hardened length. “Yeah, and they know when to look away.”
I trailed my fingers across his cock, relishing the way his shoulders shuddered at my simple touch before slipping away, heading to the oven to turn it off. “I don’t think we’ll need this just yet. I’d rather occupy my time with something else.”
I could feel his gaze assessing my frame as he spoke. “Oh, yeah? Are you finally going to show me what being topped by Oren Valens is like? Because last I checked, I made a pathetic—”
Pressing my palms flat against his chest, I shoved him against the counter, my tongue swiping across my bottom lip as the rest of his words were silenced.
“The only thing pathetic is you, my love, because your weakness is me. So, darling, you promised last time you’d listen, and well, I’ve always wanted to see you kneeling in front of me. ”
Without a second of hesitation, his back slid down the kitchen island. Tucking his feet beneath him, he lowered himself before me until he rested in the exact position I’d commanded. “Happy?”
Raising my palm, I struck his cheek, gripping it with my fingers as I angled his head to mine. “I didn’t tell you to speak, love. Pathetic men such as you deserve that reprieve once you earn it, got it?”
He hissed slightly, slowly bringing his attention back to me. But instead of uttering another word, he merely dropped his chin in response, a nod indicative of his understanding.
God, I was already wavering at the sight of my man, my love, my devotion on his knees in front of me. Biting the inside of my cheek, I adjusted the hem of my pants, my cock already aching for him. Always him, but he’d have to work for it.
Reaching to where the batter was, I coated another spoon in the mixture before letting it drop onto my boot. “Oh, shit,” I hummed, letting another couple of drops fall before setting it onto the counter. “Clean it.”
At the mere words, his hips rocked forward, a gasped moan leaving him. “S-Shit, Oren.”
“Do you want my cock or not? All I hear is a bitch whining when I asked for you to clean.” The sight of his hips rolling made me bite the inside of my cheek until that familiar metallic tang returned. It was the only way to keep myself from unraveling.
His chest shuddered, and wasting no time, he sank to the ground. Pressing his chest against it, his ass raised, and I watched as his tongue jutted from between his lips to lap up the first drop from my boots.
“All of it, or do you have a problem taking direction?”
Flattening his tongue against the leather, he did exactly as I commanded, licking every inch of my dirtied boot clean. With his head craned to the side, I watched as his lids fluttered, only to then catch his caramelized stare gazing up at me beneath his dark lashes.
“Fuck,” I groaned, palming myself over the apron. Apron.
Reaching behind, I untied it with haste, discarding it somewhere in the kitchen. I needed Thorne this instant, my need for him growing daily. There were no limits to my love for him. I loosened the belt around my slacks.
“God, you’re fucking perfect, Thorne.” I meant it. Every syllable of the words spoken as I slowly eased open the button on my pants.
He whimpered, the sound nearly enough to send me over the edge. “Please. I need you.”
God, I needed him too, but I wanted him panting in desperation, and he wasn’t there yet. “You might’ve cleaned one mess, but you’re forgetting this.”
Shifting my hips, I shimmed my pants down, my boxers following suit as I gripped my cock. Rolling my thumb over the tip, I collected the bead of precum. “Open.”
He kept his head against the ground, bowing in submission, his lips parted for me. Unfurling his tongue, he gazed up at me with the pure definition of obedience, awaiting the offering I was seconds away from giving him.
Who was I to deny such an obedient man?
Placing my thumb on his tongue, he lapped up that bead while my other hand slowly moved from base to tip. A low moan escaped me as I watched his tongue dance over my thumb with the precision I knew he’d give my cock in just a moment.
Pulling my thumb from his mouth, a trail of drool clung to it, one I shoved into my mouth. Collecting a mixture of my saliva and his, I spit into my hand, running it up and down my cock before looking at him with hooded eyes. “You keep making messes, and I’m more than willing to let you fix it.”
“Please,” he begged again, unmoved from beside my boot. “I need… to feel you… I need you inside me… Please, Daddy.”
“F-Fuck,” I said as I grabbed the counter to steady myself. “Sit up and clean your mess off my cock.”
He pushed himself upright, sinking back onto his knees. Dipping his head back to look up at me, he reached forward, his fingers curling around my base. He stroked me once, and then, without a moment’s notice, took all of me.
His tongue flattened against my shaft as he bobbed down, my length coming to meet the back of his throat.
His shoulders raised with a gag, his body shuddering slightly, but it didn’t stop his ministrations.
Swiping his tongue back and forth while I filled him, he traced up my entire length, beginning to suck once he reached the top.
“God,” I whimpered, my hips bucking as I took off his cap. Tossing it to the side, my fingers threaded in his hair, and I shoved him forward, not giving a single fuck if he could breathe.
He gagged again, saliva pooling in the back of his throat, the sound sending a jolt of pleasure straight to my core. Reaching up, he placed his hands on my thighs to steady himself. The instant I looked down at him, his teary, honeyed stare met mine.
“Fuck. Fuck,” I repeated, the sight of those tears edging me toward release, his fingers digging into my skin tighter with each thrust.
A choked sound escaped him, and I lost all semblance of control as I coated the back of his mouth with my seed. My hands released his hair, letting him pull away as I watched our mess trickle down his chin. “Good fucking boy,” I praised.
Running his tongue along his bottom lip, he collected the remnants of me while using two fingers to gather every ounce coating his skin. Bringing them to his lips, he took his time sucking my essence from them, his eyes never leaving mine.
Without another moment to waste, my lips pressed against his, wanting my essence to taint me further. I needed him… needed him to understand how much I loved him.
He groaned into the kiss, opening for me and granting me access to the back of his throat. Cleaning what was left of me from his tongue, I wrestled playfully with him, knowing damn well that his cock was aching, every inch of him begging for attention after pleasing me.
Pulling back, I took in a breath before muttering the phrase I knew would unravel him further. “I need you.”
“Fuck,” he growled, gazing up at me. “But what if I was the one who wanted to be filled?”
“Then spit in your goddamn hand.” I looped my fingers through his belt, tugging harshly. “Off.”
“What do you want, Oren? My spit? Or for me to remove my fucking belt?” His timbre held a sharpened bite, one I knew was driven by a dire need to be tamed. “Make up your goddamn mind.”