Chapter Eight
Grant
My lips pursed when Kiyah’s wet tongue ran up the underside of my shaft. She teased the horizontal barbell that only served to please her.
And when I say “only served to please her,” I mean it. I take out my piercing before having sex with anyone else.
I didn’t want to make another woman fall apart like my wife.
“Touch yourself,” I demanded, licking my lips as her fingers delved between her parted thighs.
She sucked my tip between those goddess lips of hers and moaned.
I expected her to edge me and draw out my pleasure, but instead, she fixed her glossy brown eyes on me and slowly sank down my erection, rolling her tongue against the underside until she gagged around me with a few inches to spare.
She paused, and I hissed when she cupped my balls in her free hand.
I wonder how long she’ll deprive herself of air.
Kiyah loved sucking my dick as much as I loved eating her out.
Once, I was studying in the library, and she barged into the study room, nearly scaring me half to death.
I asked what the emergency was, and she said she had twenty minutes until her next class and needed me down her throat to get her through her monotonous professor’s lecture.
A few seconds later, she was on her knees, tearing me out of my jeans and delivering the most frantic and sloppy head of my life.
Two minutes later, I was coming so hard my toes cracked in my tennis shoes.
She stood up, wiped her lips with the back of her hand, and ransacked my backpack, looking for a pack of gum.
She popped the gum into her mouth, kissed me on the cheek, told me she loved me, and disappeared, leaving me confused and utterly spent with my dick out and my jeans around my ankles.
Kiyah jerked back for air with a loud gasp. Saliva moistened her lips and dribbled down her chin. “I missed you, too,” she whispered before nearly bringing me to my knees by hollowing her cheeks and sucking my dick so hard that I thought she’d rip my piercing out.
“Just…like that…Ki,” I moaned when her hand moved to assist—twisting and tugging as she slurped away. My eyes rolled in the back of my head when I witnessed her pull away and take her pussy juice-drenched fingers and coat the head of my dick with her arousal before sinking back onto me.
She swallowed me greedily and hummed her appreciation around my thick length as she made me her bitch. Saliva mixed with my precum and her arousal leaked in rivulets from both sides of her mouth. I reached down, gathered it, and smeared it across her cheeks.
My release was nearing.
“Did you prep?” I asked.
She nodded with my dick still happily jammed in her mouth.
“Good. I’m about to come in this mouth, and you know what to do with it.” She nodded before opening her mouth wide and sticking out her tongue. I jerked off in her mouth, painting her pink tongue and her full lips milky white. “Not a drop, Kiyah.”
She closed her mouth and climbed onto the bed while I retrieved lube and a condom from my nightstand.
I was pleased when I found Kiyah face down with her plump ass in the air.
She’d spread her ass cheeks for me, and I didn’t hesitate to drizzle lube all over her ass and in between.
Her brown hole puckered upon contact as the lube sluiced down her taint to her pussy.
She moaned around a mouthful of my cum as I slicked the lube with my fingers all over her hole before breaching the tight ring of muscles.
I need more lube.
I squeezed a more generous amount before continuing to work my fingers inside her.
I knew I was working my magic when Kiyah’s back arched, and she began rocking back and forth on my fingers.
I placed my hand on the small of her back and scissored my fingers inside her before adding another.
She stilled, and I paused to ask, “Are you good?”
“R-real good,” she stuttered as she tried to hold my semen in.
I loosened her up for another few minutes until I was stiff, and she was taking my fingers like a fucking champ.
“You’re ready,” I announced, tearing into the condom. I sheathed myself and drizzled lube up and down my length before climbing into bed.
I eased into her gradually, using her body language and her moans to gauge my pace. I exhaled deeply when I bottomed out. Her walls were spasming around me, and I knew, despite how much I wanted to deprive her of climaxing until it hurt, I wouldn’t last long.
I rocked into her, just testing the waters, and bit my bottom lip moments later when she started rocking back.
“Fuck, Ki,” I hissed between my teeth. “You’re taking my dick too good, baby,” I grunted as the pace kicked up.
“Have you been giving this ass out while you’ve been gone?
” I taunted. She shook her head feverishly.
“I don’t believe you,” I said, slapping her ass in rapid succession as I slammed into her.
She cried out in shock, gurgling around the cum in her mouth as I turned her tanned skin a deep red.
I yanked her up by her biceps, pressing her back to my chest, and pistoned in her without mercy. My fingers snuck to the front, and I twisted and pulled on her piercing. I smiled when she gagged and choked on my cum, and I knew from the intense wail that she fucked up. I slapped her pierced clit.
“What did I say, Kiyah? Not a drop, didn’t I?” I questioned, slapping her pussy again.
“I-I’m soooooo sorry,” she moaned.
“You know what that means, right?” She nodded through her tears. “Tell me what’s going to happen.”
“I won’t come… until the morning,” she replied, sobbing at her misfortune.
“That’s right, baby,” I whispered in her ear. I kissed her cheek roughly, forced her against the bed, tugged the condom off, and fucked her pussy like I owned that motherfucker.
I came deep inside my wife, jetting thick ropes of cum into her. I rolled my eyes when her walls clamped down on me, and she screamed into the comforter. I could’ve been a dick and pulled out, but she felt so fucking good around me that I’d have to be a masochist to pull out and ruin it for myself.
Our heavy panting filled the bedroom as we came down from our high.
“You weren’t supposed to come until the morning,” I admonished, finally pulling out of her when I softened. With a shaky hand, Kiyah pointed at the clock on my nightstand.
12:03 AM.
Well played, Kiyah…well played.
Kiyah
I stumbled down the stairs, exhausted from Grant’s efforts to squeeze an eight-month dry spell into three hours.
“I thought I was supposed to be making you breakfast,” I mumbled, entering the massive country-style Home & Gardens kitchen that would make any Food Network star cream themselves. Everything was white and bright—the exact opposite of what I needed at the moment.
I need a dark hole I can climb into so I can hibernate.
“If I waited on you, I’d be late,” Grant grunted, flipping French toast. I zombie-walked towards him and slapped him on the ass on the way to the coffee maker.
“You should’ve woken me up,” I said, pouring myself a cup of coffee in my favorite mug from my younger sister. It said, “TSA loves me” with a picture of a metal detector—a dig at my piercings.
Daisy’s such a fucking dirtbag, and I love that about her. Mainly because she doesn’t try to be something she’s not. She owns up to it.
“You looked peaceful. I didn’t want to bother you.”
I smiled. “You should call in sick.”
Grant stacked the toast onto a plate and checked his watch before shutting off the gas burner. “You have been in town officially twenty-three hours and ten minutes, and you’re already being a bad influence.”
“How about you go in a few hours late?” I suggested, hopping onto a barstool.
He snorted. “I’d never make it in, and you know it.”
“It’s because you find me irresistible.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” he said, adding sausage links to my plate.
“What time should I expect you home?” I asked, sliding the newspaper in my direction. I flipped to the page bookmarked by a gold pen and hummed as I perused Grant’s work.
“Seven at the latest,” he answered. I bobbed my head and began filling in the missing squares.
“G, sometimes, I feel like you’re not even trying,” I mumbled as I filled in the eleven-letter word for lab work focused on data storage devices.
“Excuse me, but I was a little distracted,” he scoffed.
“It’s okay. It’s because I fucked your brains out, huh?” I taunted.
“I should be saying that to you. What do you have planned for today?”
“I plan on making a trip to the old folks home.”
“Don’t call it that. It’s a luxury retirement home,” Grant corrected.
“It’s an old folks home with a hefty fucking price tag. I still don’t understand why Grandma wants to stay there.”
“Maybe because she loves her husband and wants to be with him,” Grant said, dropping my plate beside me. He kissed me roughly on the temple and attempted to walk away when I curved a finger through his belt loop and tugged him back.
“You’re hot when you’re passive-aggressive,” I purred.
“Eat your breakfast before it gets cold,” he said, staring down at me. It was clear he was hungrier for me than the French toast.
“You’re my breakfast,” I insisted, trying to talk Grant out of his drawers.
He’s putting up a valiant effort—I’ll give him that.
He smirked. “Will you do a tune-up on the truck after you visit our grandparents?”
I rolled my eyes.
Everyone always asks me to handle their vehicle maintenance when I come home, but Grant knows the deal: Nothing in life is free.
“What do I get in return?” I asked, draping my arms on the same shoulders my legs were propped against a few hours ago.
“Who told you that you could wear this?” he asked, unbuttoning the dress shirt I wore.
“Stop playing, Grant. You know you love seeing me in your shirts, especially when I wear nothing underneath.”
I whimpered when he parted the engulfing shirt and “accidentally” brushed the back of his hand against one of my nipples.
He trailed two fingers between the valley of my breasts to my abdomen at a painstaking pace.
He glossed his fingers over my smooth mound and pussy lips.
I opened for him, spreading my legs as far as possible without falling off the stool.
His lips met mine as he teased my throbbing hole that was still leaking his cum.
My lips parted for him, and his tongue playfully caressed mine as he pushed a few centimeters’ worth of fingers into me.
I rocked my hips, attempting to push him further, but he was intent on not letting me get my fix.
Grant Maxwell Baker was driving me up the fucking wall, and he knew it.
I’d bet my Harley that he’d leave me hot and bothered until he slinked back home to deliver superstar dick.
I should put my pussy on lock since he wants to play games. Sigh. That’ll never happen. When it comes to Grant and sex, you might as well call me Waffle House because I’m open to him 24/7, rain or shine. We might even fight, but we’ll be satisfied once everything is said and done.
I groaned when he pressed himself between my thighs, purposely brushing his bulge against my center.
He broke away from the searing kiss. “Be good for me while I’m gone, and you’ll get what you’ve been begging for,” he whispered before shoving his fingers into my slightly gaped mouth.
I cleaned them off obediently—sucking and humming my pleasure over the digits.
I cupped his dick and squeezed roughly, pulling a surprised yelp from him.
“Fuck you, Kiyah!” he snarled, jerking me off the stool and spinning me around. I leaned on it for support and stood on my toes to achieve the perfect angle while he wrestled himself out of his charcoal dress pants.
Yeah, fuck you, too, for thinking you were walking out of the house with all that dick without giving me any.
“What’s wrong, G? You’re just doing your husbandly duties,” I said, panting with need.
I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth and gripped the edge of the stool as he nudged past my pussy lips and bottomed out.
The stool rocked back and forth, scraping across the tile and balancing precariously on two legs as Grant attempted to fuck some sense into me.
“Yeah? When are you going to start doing your wifely duties, huh?” he gritted from above me as my ass clapped against him and my pussy dribbled down his dick. “You’re staying, Ki,” he panted. “I’m not letting you leave.”
Oh, my God. Can you make up your mind?
A few punishing strokes later, we came together so hard that the stool finally gave way, and Grant had to wrap an arm around my waist to catch me from falling.
I sucked in a breath as I came down from my high and patted Grant’s arm to let him know I was good to stand on my own two feet. But he didn’t let go. Instead, he buried his face into my back and held me tighter. “Can you make your burgers for dinner tonight?” he asked.
I smirked. He loved it when I made him cheeseburgers. He once claimed they were the best burgers he’d ever had, sparking a heated debate between Dad and Uncle Ant, who both claimed their burgers reigned supreme.
And my burgers are the shit because I got the recipe from a cook I worked with at a diner in the middle of nowhere who had one eye from an eye-gouging incident in a bar fight, sun-scorched, leathery skin from years of exposure and no sunscreen, and smoked three to four packs of cigarettes a day.
“I’ll make your burgers tonight. Anything else?”
“The homemade fries,” he mumbled.
“That was a given. What about dessert?”
“Churros.”
“You got it. Have a good day at work.”
He let me up, and we exchanged a passionate kiss I knew had Grant second-guessing calling in. I was hoping for another round when his phone alarm rang.
“Duty calls.”
My heart sank as I waved at Grant from the front door. He pulled out of the garage and drove away, leaving me behind in our big, empty house.