46. Soaking in the Warmth
soaking in the warmth
Mirren
I hold my breath as his fingers threaded in mine squeeze reflexively. He turns to me in slow motion, or maybe that’s my heart racing out of my chest, and his eyes roam my face. After too many excruciatingly silent moments, I break the tension.
“Or do you plan to get a place of your own while we test the waters?”
He opens the door, ripping the keys from the ignition, and rounds the hood.
My door flies open, and he picks me up, tossing me over his shoulder, and stalks up the stairs to my apartment, pressing me against his damp shirt.
He pushes the door open with his runners and kicks it closed behind himself, making his way down the hall, through my bedroom and into my small bathroom.
Shower on, he slides me down his body, ever so slowly, letting me feel his firm pecs, the ridges of his abs, his thickening cock. Without a word, he strips my clothes from me quickly and efficiently and shoves me into the shower.
Alone.
What the hell?
Rummaging through my drawers, he finds one of those plastic toothbrushes the dentist sent home with me and scrubs his teeth and tongue within an inch of their lives before peeling off his clothes, toeing off his shoes and socks, and stepping into the shower.
He falls on my mouth like a starving man who’s been offered a sip of water and would rather drown than make it last. Hands at my jaws are rough and firm, even a bit harsh. His groans slip past my lips as he presses his long, hot cock to my belly, searing me with its heat.
I moan and open for him… my lips and my legs, silently inviting his caress—or perhaps shamelessly begging for it—as I thread my fingers through his hair and hold him to me.
He breaks the kiss long enough to utter one word. “Up.” Fingers under my ass lift me, and I wrap my legs around his slim hips, lock my ankles above his ass, and use my core to find what I want most.
The last two things I’ve asked have been met with painful, agonizing silence. Cartoon me wants to retract the words and go back to playful Strider and Mirren. Real me simply wants the awkwardness to end.
And to get laid.
“Need you, Strider.” I wiggle, finding him close to my entrance. But he still withholds himself from me.
Maybe I read this all wrong. Maybe I missed a cue that normal people would get. Maybe I need to stop overthinking and just grab his cock and fuck myself on it like I’m so desperate to do.
Overwhelmed, desperate, and emotionally swirling, I drop my head to rest on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I whisper through the steam.
He pulls his head back. “For what?”
“For pushing too hard. For assuming…”
The heat of him is where I need him most. Right there. Right at the center of me. If I can just drop a little, there will be relief.
“Never apologize for who you are. Not to me. Not to anyone.”
With one slick, hard thrust, he impales me on his cock, hitting the end of me, sending a wave reverberating inside me that borders on orgasmic.
His grunt and my moan echo off the walls in unison.
“Promise me, Freckles. Promise me.”
All thoughts have left my brain. I can’t think. What am I promising?
“Promise you what?”
He withdraws, hovering just at my entrance, leaving me empty. “Promise me I get the you I fell in love with, not the sanitized, watered-down version you think we need.”
With all the energy I can spare, I find his eyes and hold them. “I promise, honey.”
He slams back in with a force that shoves me up inside the cage of his arms. “Fuck yes. You’re mine.”
While he talks, he takes me rough and fast. “Mine. All wild and untamed. Fucking gorgeous. Fucking perfect.”
My skin sizzles as hot water bounces and dances off my arms and back, skating with delicate precision over my ass to where we meet.
My senses are popping off like fireworks.
Steam clouds my vision but magnifies the smell of us.
The sound of our joining bouncing off the walls along with Strider’s grunts as he takes me in perfect rhythm.
The glide of him inside me and the drag of his head on his withdrawal.
I want more but know I can’t handle it. I’m ripe with sensation. I need to move, but I’m in Strider’s arms and would never forego this by choice.
So I take and I take.
And I take some more.
Strider never slows his pace, he gives and gives and watches me until I arch my neck, throwing my head back and hitting it into the shower wall, wincing. A warm thick palm cups my head, protecting me from myself.
I fight the tears that want to well. Not from pain, but from overwhelm. From knowing this man chose me—chooses me—wants me… is moving for me.
“I love you,” I gasp out as my orgasm sucks us both under.
Strider
Whether it’s her words, or the look on her face, or the fact that her glorious pussy is trying to milk me, I don’t know.
Perhaps it’s all of it. Perhaps it’s Mirren herself who brings me to my knees, water spraying everywhere as her body wrings everything from me.
Everything I’d gladly give just to have her.
Reaching up, I flip off the water and hold her as we both come down. She buries her head in my neck as she continues to pulse around me, aftershocks rippling through her, rolling through me.
“Love you, Freckles,” I whisper as I hold her. “And you tell me where you want to live. I’m happy to go where you want.”
A small sniffle meets my ears as she nods into my throat. “Okay. We’ll figure it out.”
As I soften, my cum leaks from where we’re joined.
I could stay here all day, my dick soaking in the warmth inside Mirren.
I get the cockwarming thing now. I totally get it.
With a groan, I pull out and clean her up.
I’d wrap her up, take her to bed and take her again if my stomach didn’t growl at the worst possible time.
She giggles, looking young and carefree. “Are you hungry?”
I nod. I’m hungry for her, but my stomach won’t let me forget it’s gnawing emptiness either.
“Let’s get you fed.”
She tosses me a towel and grabs one for herself before I can do the same, and heads for the kitchen. From inside the open refrigerator, she yells, “I have sandwich fixings, eggs, leftover pasta, some very questionable chicken, some salad dressing but no salad, and a box of baking soda.”
I slide in behind her to wrap my arms low on her waist and drop a kiss to her shoulder. Like the first time we met, I’m wearing only my towel, this time because the only clothes I have here are sweaty and dried to the point of crunchy. “You hungry, baby?”
She twists her neck to look up at me and nods.
“Do you want sweet or savory?”
She scrunches her brow. “I was going to make something.”
“Get that, but I wouldn’t dare ask for a sandwich after sex. Too cliché. So I’ll do it. Now… Sweet or savory?”
“Savory,” she breathes.
I pull out several ingredients, flip on her stove, and get to work as she nestles into her sofa.
“I could get used to this, you know?” she grouses from the other side of the room.
I’m counting on that. “While I’m doing this, can you tell me what’s going on at work?”
“Sure,” she replies, clearing her throat.
“The property has good rentals through the holidays and into Mardi Gras. Did you know that Mardi Gras started in Mobile? Anyway, I haven’t opened the calendar past that window, even if spring break is a profitable time. I like to reevaluate every few months.”
Message received. She can’t talk. I twist her way and give my head a nod, meaning I get what she’s not saying. “So we’re here for a while.”
“We don’t have to be. I can cancel the bookings.”
“Nah.” I flip off the burner, put the final touches on our lunch, and head her way. “Keep the income. You mentioned the bills, and I know that thing”—I use my chin to gesture toward the house—“isn’t cheap. Electric alone is probably massive. That’s not counting the mortgage.”
Mirren looks sheepish. “I don’t… I don’t have a mortgage. But the family doesn’t know, so keep that between us, okay?”