Chapter 37 #2
"Your girlfriend, the very tired badass," she corrects, stifling a yawn. "It's been a long day of legal proceedings and driving."
"Go take a shower," I suggest, releasing her with a final squeeze. "Get comfortable. I'll sort out something to eat."
"You're cooking?" She raises an eyebrow, glancing pointedly at my injured hand.
"Nothing complicated," I assure her. "Just using what few skills I have left with this thing." I wiggle the fingers protruding from my metal brace to demonstrate their limited mobility.
Violet's expression softens. She steps forward, places her hands on either side of my face, and pulls me in for a proper kiss—deep, thorough, and full of promise. When she finally breaks away, we're both a little breathless.
"Thank you," she says simply.
"For what?" I ask, slightly dazed from the kiss.
"For being here. For making me feel like I’m at..." She pauses, searching for the right word.
"Home?" I suggest, hope rising in my chest.
Her smile is answer enough. "I'll be quick," she promises, picking up her overnight bag and heading toward the bathroom.
In the kitchen, I line up ingredients on the counter, working methodically with my left hand.
Tuna from the can, mayonnaise, boiled eggs I prepared earlier, a touch of salt and pepper.
The rain has started outside, a gentle patter against the windows that creates a cocoon around the house.
I glance up as a flash of lightning illuminates the darkening evening sky, counting seconds until the thunder follows.
Three. The storm is close but not threatening—just enough to make the house feel like a sanctuary, isolated from the world beyond. I hope Violet doesn’t get scared.
I mix the filling one-handed, slower than before the accident but not helplessly so.
Adaptation is what we racing drivers do best, after all.
The bread—freshly baked sourdough from the village bakery—slices easily under my knife.
I'm focused on my task, enjoying the simple domesticity of it, when I sense her presence before I hear her.
Turning, my prepared greeting dies on my lips. Violet stands in the doorway, hair still damp from the shower, a tinge of copper dusting her cheeks, wearing something I recognize immediately—the F1 car pajamas, soft and worn. My heart stutters at the sight, memory and present colliding.
"You kept them," I say, my voice rougher than intended.
She smiles, something shy in it despite everything we've shared. "They're comfortable." Honestly, she probably bought two or three of those, just as she does with everything she loves.
The pajamas hang loose on her frame, revealing nothing explicitly, and yet somehow, more intimate than her naked body. Her hair curls naturally as it dries, framing her face in a way rarely seen by anyone outside her private circle. This version of Violet—soft, unguarded—is mine alone.
My body responds immediately, arousal heavy and insistent. I shift, trying to hide my erection, and gesture to the plates on the counter. "Sandwich?"
Her eyes light up, a flash of genuine excitement that makes something warm unfurl in my chest. I know he loves these.
Back in Japan, she was all over them whenever we stopped for a quick bite at a convenience store.
She crosses the kitchen in quick steps and takes one of the sandwiches, biting into it with unrestrained enthusiasm.
"Hungry?" I tease, watching her devour half in record time.
She swallows before answering. "Starving. Didn't eat lunch—too busy with lawyers talking legal jargon and boring me to death."
I take my own sandwich, biting into it more slowly, watching her over the rim. "I like a woman with an appetite."
"Good," she says around another bite. "Because I have several."
The innuendo, coming from typically reserved Violet, sends a jolt straight to my groin. I set my sandwich down, no longer interested in food. "Funny you should mention that," I say, moving closer to her. "I find my appetite is for something else entirely right now."
Her eyes drop to the obvious bulge straining against my sweatpants—comfortable loungewear I'd chosen for practicality with my injury, not anticipating how it would now reveal every contour of my hard cock.
"I can see that," she murmurs, setting her sandwich aside as her gaze falls on my crotch.
I close the distance between us, unable to wait another moment.
With my left arm, I lift her effortlessly—she's light despite saying otherwise—and set her on the countertop.
Positioning myself between her legs feels like coming home, the most natural place in the world to be.
I pull her close, wrapping my arm around her waist, her heartbeat against mine.
The rain drums harder against the windows, creating a rhythm that my hips unconsciously match as I grind against her. The friction, even through layers of clothing, is almost unbearable. Violet's breath catches, a small moan escaping as I press harder, more deliberately.
I pull back from our embrace just enough to see her face, her pupils dilated with desire. "Can I go down on you?" The question comes out rough with want, but I need to hear her consent, need to know she wants this as much as I do.
She almost chokes, surprised by my directness, and I laugh softly, brushing my nose against hers as I wait for her answer, eyes locked on hers.
"Yes," she breathes finally. "Please."
Those two words, especially the "please," send fire through my veins.
"Good girl," I say as I plant a soft kiss on her lips.
I maintain eye contact as my fingers—still surprisingly dexterous despite weeks of limited use—find the waistband of her pajama bottoms and underwear.
I pull them down slowly, reverently, helping her lift her hips so I can slide them off completely.
I step back slightly, taking in the sight of her. Half-dressed, perched on my kitchen counter, the last rays of evening light catching the curves of her body. "You're mesmerizing," I whisper. "Beautiful. A goddess." My voice drops lower, rougher. "Fuck... I want you so much right now."
Sinking to my knees before her feels like worship. I press my face against her inner thigh, breathing in her scent, placing kisses along sensitive skin as I move higher. My fingers find her first, exploring gently, and I groan at the wetness I encounter.
"So ready for me," I murmur, looking up at her with a smirk I can't contain. "I've missed this. Missed how wet you get for me. It's so fucking sexy."
I circle her clit, light, teasing touches that make her hips shift impatiently.
I don't make her wait long. Leaning forward, I run my tongue along her pussy in a slow, deliberate stroke that makes her gasp.
The taste of her floods my senses—familiar, intoxicating, mine.
I lose myself in the rhythm, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention, my fingers joining my mouth as I slide two inside her.
Violet's hands find my hair, tugging gently at first, then harder as I increase the pressure. Her moans drive me wild, each sound going straight to my cock, which throbs painfully against the confines of my boxers.
I pull back just enough to speak, my breath hot against her most sensitive flesh. "Eyes on me, Violet," I command softly. "I don't just want to feel you come. I want to see you come for me, because of me, in me."
"Demanding," she gasps, her fingers tightening in my hair.
I grin up at her. "I just want to see you pleasured," I counter before diving back in, my tongue finding a rhythm that makes her thighs tremble.
She tries to close her legs as she gets closer to climax, and I use my forearm to gently but firmly keep her open to me, increasing my tempo, my fingers curling to find the spot inside that makes her see stars.
When she comes, she keeps her eyes on mine as requested, and the intimacy of that connection—seeing the exact moment pleasure overtakes her—nearly undoes me. I continue softly, helping her ride through the orgasm, before finally pulling back and licking my lips with deliberate slowness.
"Best meal ever, damn." My voice is hoarse with desire. "I could go for seconds…"
It's then I notice the warm, wet sensation in my sweatpants. I glance down, realizing what's happened with a mixture of embarrassment and awe.
"What is it?" Violet asks, still breathless from her climax.
I laugh softly. "I came without even touching myself." I shake my head, amazed at my body's response to her pleasure. "That says a lot about how much power you have over me."
Her eyes widen, a small smile playing at her lips.
"But don't let this fool you," I add, standing and positioning myself against her again. I pull my cock out. Despite having just come, I'm still hard, still wanting more—wanting everything with her. "Can I?"
I pull back a bit and put my hand in my pocket. She immediately stares at me looking for answers.
"What? I’m a gentleman, always ready, especially for you, gorgeous." I wave the condom wrapper at her.
"Were you anticipating this, Will?"
"With you? Always. That and cuddles. Lots of cuddles."
I open the wrapper and put the condom on, noticing how she’s biting her lower lip while her gaze is on my throbbing cock.
I align myself with her entrance, pushing in slowly, savoring every millimeter of connection. "I have a lot of love to give right now. I spent too much time not enjoying you, not touching myself, not having any pleasure. I intend to take every single drop I can. And give as well."
I slide in completely, overwhelmed by the sensation of her pussy around my cock. My hands find her hips, and I begin to move, setting a rhythm that has us both moaning. A smile stretches across my face, uncontrollable happiness bubbling up despite—or perhaps because of—the intensity of the moment.
"Why do you look so happy?" Violet asks between gasps.
"Because I'm making love to the woman I adore," I answer simply, claiming her mouth in a deep kiss as I increase my pace, driving us both toward that perfect edge.
We come together, her muscles clenching around me, drawing out my release in pulses that seem endless. I collapse against her, my head resting on her shoulder, our bodies still joined as we catch our breath.
"Missed this," I murmur against her skin. "Your smell, your body, your moans, your warmth. The way you squeeze around me, the way you touch me." I press a kiss to her collarbone. "Missed you being mine for a night."
Violet's fingers thread through my hair, gentle and possessive. "You were quite needy," she teases, her voice warm with affection.
"I have a lot to make up for," I counter, lifting my head to meet her eyes. "Weeks in the hospital and receiving guests here at my place. Weeks of wanting to touch you and having to behave." I press my forehead against hers. "I'm not wasting another minute of having you here."