48. Rosy
FORTY-EIGHT
ROSY
Bry cups my chin, tilting my face up to his. “How are you doing after yesterday?”
At his sweet question, my lip rolls in between my teeth, needing to clamp down. But he doesn’t let me, tugging it free and smoothing his thumb across it.
“It’s always a messy day. I feel a bit off-centred that they saw me like that,” I reveal.
“They can handle any overwhelming, ugly feeling you throw at them. You should’ve seen me when I was neck-deep in my grief. None of them reduced my emotions or told me to act or feel a certain way. They just stood by me the whole way through,” he says, matching my honesty.
My body sags slightly, feeling some of the weight lifting as his words resonate.
“Is it weird that your words make me feel better, even though you were going through a shitty time?” I whisper, unsure if my words will have him pulling back. Bry seems to not only see my struggling inner self, but he understands it more than anyone I’ve met.
“No, we can just relate and understand each other better than most.”
He kisses the tip of my nose and the corners of my lips, then places a lingering one on my mouth. He pulls away, and it takes a moment for my eyes to open.
I want more of his kisses; each one is so intimate for me.
“So what are we cooking tonight?”
“It’s a mushroom and lentil hot pot,” he says, and I have to hold back my moan. That sounds delicious.
But also…beyond my assisting capabilities.
“That sounds complicated. Perhaps I should keep you company instead?” I suggest, not wanting to be the one to ruin dinner. There are a lot of ingredients laid out…definitely more than four. That’s complex cooking.
“You can do as much or as little assisting as you want. As long as you’re here, I don’t mind,” he promises, dropping the apron from last time over my head, then tying it up for me.
Bry picks up an onion first, placing it on the chopping board. “You can start with this if you want?”
I’m only a few slices in, and the tears start streaming. He spins me gently and uses a cloth to mop up my wet cheeks.
“Next time, I’ll cut the onion for you.”
“I’m barely able to help as it is; you can’t take away my vegetable chopping too.” I blink through blurred vision. I’m probably pouting, but I can’t help it. I may have zero kitchen skills, but I’m really enjoying being in the space that means so much to him.
“Okay, I won’t take it away.” He chuckles, peppering kisses all over my face.
“Thank you.”
We continue to work in silence, though I still sniff the whole way through cutting the onion, and I steadily chop everything he gives me before it gets added methodically to the pan.
It smells so good already.
After everything’s cooked to his satisfaction, Bry tugs out a large casserole dish and pours the contents of the pan in.
“Okay, it’s ready for you to add the potatoes.” He nods at the dish, stepping back and leaving me to…
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I confess.
“You just layer the thin slices across the top.”
“In rows?”
“No, a spiral will work.” He grins, eyes crinkling. I know he must think I’m stupid, but I really don’t want to mess this up.
“Okay…”
Hesitantly, I pick up a few potato slices and hover them over the dish.
Heat warms my back. “Here,” Bry says, leaning around me and pointing where to place the first slice.
Following his guidance, I continue to place the rest of them, and with each one, my body leans more into his. The feel of his chest through my back, his voice sending soft vibrations through me, is distracting.
Whilst things have progressed with Noah and Nate a bit more than my relationship has with Bry, I haven’t felt impatient until now.
I’ve enjoyed our slower pace; he’s been so sweet in wanting to get to know me, that it’s felt almost sensual.
I haven’t much previous experience to go on, with most past interests not going beyond a few dates, but dating Bry feels akin to a long, languid caress.
He’s taking the time to explore me before needing more.
Except apparently, I’m the one now feeling greedy, feverishly wanting to speed things up.
Bry’s quick intake of breath pulls me out of my heated thoughts, and I freeze when I realise I’ve been rubbing myself against him.
“Shit, I didn’t mean to…ooh.” My eyes roll as his mouth finds my ear, his teeth tugging on the shell.
“It’s hard to concentrate when you feel so good against me,” he groans, his breath sending a shiver down my spine.
“I could say the same to you,” I reply, pushing my hips back again.
Something hard and solid grinds into my lower back.
Oh.
“Let me get this in the oven, then we’ll have some time to…explore before it’s done.”
He squeezes my hip, then the warmth of him fades. He slides the dish into the oven, then grabs my hand and tugs me to his room.
Before we enter, he stops. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to. We can go in, chat, snuggle…”
Not wanting him to doubt anything, I rose to my toes and steal his words. Lips pressed together, I melt into his touch. His hands slide through the strands of my hair, cupping the back of my head, and when he tugs lightly, my hands fist the fabric of his shirt.
“Too much?” he asks, pausing our kiss, a crease prominent between his brows.
“Definitely not.” One hand tugs free, and I fumble for the door handle, pushing it open.
He kisses me again, arms coming around and lifting me. I wrap my legs around his waist, deepening our kiss until it becomes hurried and messy.
He drops me onto his bed; it’s big and soft, and the sheets might be blue or black. I can’t even focus enough to figure it out. Bry stands above me, his hands shaking as he stares down at me.
“I want this,” I tell him, needing him to know that I don’t want us to hold back anything with each other. He’s allowed me to see the raw, vulnerable parts of him, and I don’t want him hesitating now.
“It doesn’t feel like you’re real,” he confesses, and before I can reply, he drops to his knees between my thighs. Hot hands slide up my legs and over my pelvis, then make quick work of removing my apron. At my nod, he removes my T-shirt and leggings, leaving me lying in only my underwear.
When I reach out to undress him, he lets me, closing his eyes as I take my time caressing his exposed body.
He’s…more toned than I anticipated.
Along his shoulders and arms, the muscles are firm, with scatterings of strawberry-blonde hair. He’s perfectly broad without being too bulky. I stroke down his chest and across the softer muscles on his stomach, then trace the light trail of hair leading down to his underwear.
Bry pushes me onto my back, following me down. Fingers skate along the sensitive skin of my sides, the touch light yet deliberate. As his hands move lower, gliding down my hips to circle inside my thighs, my breath hitches at the teasing, skilled touches.
“Rosy, I wanted this to go slower. To take more time…”
“You don’t need to. I might combust if you don’t do something.”
I gasp at the sudden tug at my underwear, and I lift my legs to help him slide them off. His fingers stroke my exposed skin, and my body instinctively tilts into his touch. My head tips back, eyes dropping closed as my legs fall open, and I cling desperately to the sheets beneath me.
Torturously slow fingers circle my entrance, then spread me crudely open and rub my arousal into my skin. We groan at the same time, mine needy and his pained.
My hips buck as a thick finger slips into my opening, the movement sure and unyielding as it pumps into my heat. More fingers part me, exposing my sensitive clit, and my body arches almost painfully as wet lips fix around the bud and suck hard.
The noise I make is unrecognisable and animalistic.
Bry flattens his tongue, flicking around my clit in slow, meticulous licks as he slips in a second finger, increasing the speed of his thrusts.
Both my mind and body are lost in the sensations.
The slick sound of his finger fucking between my thighs creates a sensuous rhythm as he increases the pressure.
Glancing down my sweat-soaked body, our eyes meet, and the hunger in his ignites me, guiding me closer to the edge. It’s not a look I’ve seen on Bry before, this unfulfilled need, but shit if it doesn’t make me want to give him everything.
So I hook my hands behind each of my knees and spread myself as obscenely wide as I can.
I want him to consume me. A low grunt spills from him, and he buries his head even deeper.
The never-ending sucking and tugging on my clit has incoherent moans escaping me until my body has no choice but to free fall into a toe-curling orgasm.
Bry doesn’t stop lapping at the slickness coating my entrance.
He shifts up the bed, rousing me from the sleepy haze. His arm winds around my waist, and he pulls me back into his chest, nuzzling at my nape.
“You’re so perfect, Rosy.”
I snort. “Hardly, but that was amazing.”
“I agree,” he moans into my ear, spooning me tighter.
“Wait.” I shuffle around to face him, smiling as he refuses to let go of his hold on me. “What about you?”
The tips of his ears heat a fierce red, and his eyes dart from mine. He clears his throat. “I…finished.”
My brows rise at his confession. I was so absorbed in my own moment, I didn’t notice that he had… Looking down the bed, I notice the damp patch near the end of the sheets, his T-shirt scrunched to the side, and his spent…ah…appendage.
“Oh.”
“It’s not usually over like that. I can wait longer. I was just so caught up in us being together, then you spread your legs like that, and it just…happened.” He winces, almost as if he’s waiting for me to mock him.
“The grunting noise?
He nods, face still heated.
Unable to hold in my satisfaction, I move closer, so our lips almost touch, and tell him, “I love that.”
Our kiss is sweet, sincere, and I push every grateful feeling I can into it. He matches it, reciprocating the growing feelings between us.
He pulls back, affectionately swiping a finger down my nose. “Tell me about your day?”
“My work’s boring,” I scoff with a roll of my eyes. “What orders did you have to bake today?”
He chuckles, snuggling me closer, then he gives me all the tasty details until his watch buzzes with the alarm he’d set for the oven.