Chapter Fifteen #2
“I’ll be here. Icing and elevating like I’m an old lady,” I told him as I hobbled over to the bedroom to curl up with one of the books Charlotte had picked out for me.
I heard Christopher head out, then come back about an hour later, going right into the bathroom. The shower turned on, and I lay there, trying not to think about him in there, water cascading down all those grooves in his muscles I’d thought about tracing.
There was no use, though.
I tossed my book to the side and sighed as desire sparked and caught, spreading through me at an impressive speed.
I was so distracted by it that I didn’t even notice the water had cut off. Or that Christopher had emerged from the bathroom.
Until he was in the doorway.
In nothing but a towel.
Beads of water dripping down from his hair and disappearing into the waistband of his pants.
“My clothes are still in here,” he said, his tone apologetic.
Right.
Because I was complaining.
I gave him a nod, and he turned to go to the closet.
He was always in those damn suits.
I had no idea what a great ass he had hidden under there.
He picked out clothes, and I found myself folding up and shifting my legs off the side of the bed, leaving us only maybe ten inches of space between us.
He had no idea I’d moved until he turned, his whole body jerking at finding me sitting so close, my head level with his waist.
I saw the heat flare. I watched him try to bank it back down.
But I was already reaching out, hands on his hips, tugging until the tuck of his towel let loose.
His breath caught, and I watched as his cock went from semi to fully hard in the span of a couple of seconds.
“Alara…”
There was no real restraint in his voice, though.
And when I closed my hand around his length, his hips rocked into the sensation, chasing more of it.
I ducked, running my tongue across the head until his hand grabbed the side of my neck, fingers tight.
Only when I felt a shiver course through him did I lower down, taking him deep, dragging a low, ragged groan out of him.
I could feel the tension in him, the way his body was vibrating with his need for release.
I couldn’t imagine that his life over the past few years would have allowed for much time with a woman. He was probably much more hard-up than even I was, and I felt like I’d been crawling out of my skin just being near him.
So I didn’t try to tease him.
I just gave him the same quick sprint toward release he’d given me the night before.
Moving up and down, twisting, and cradling his balls until his breath was fast and frantic, until his hand slid from the side to the back of my neck, holding me against him as if I had any intentions of moving away.
His soft groans filled my ears as his hips started to thrust into my mouth, making me take him deeper, moving faster, as he got closer and closer to the edge.
“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, his body tensing hard as he came.
I worked him through it, only pulling away when his hand slid back to my cheek, his thumb rubbing gently.
I glanced up at him, seeing that hazy post-orgasm contentedness, but only for a second before it was replaced with concern.
“Shit,” he said, his face twisting.
“What?” I asked.
His thumb slid to my lower lip, rubbing lightly. There was a sting that had me understanding before he pulled his hand back to show me the bead of blood.
I’d re-split my lip.
“It was worth it,” I said with a shrug.
He shot me a wicked little smirk at that. “I have to agree. But I’ll get you cleaned up.”
“Ah, Christopher?” I called when he turned to walk away.
“Yeah?”
“You’re naked. I mean, I’m not complaining. But it’s almost three. The kids should be here any second.”
“Right,” he agreed, a little frazzled from the whole event. He yanked his underwear up, then his pants and a tee. Only then did he stride out of the room.
He came back a second later.
He was still pressing a saline-soaked gauze to my lip when the kids came into the apartment with all the racket of a football team.
“Home!” Charlotte announced unnecessarily.
“Yeah, hey, dude. I’ll take you in a minute,” Liam said to, I imagined, Tuna. “Everything alright?” he asked, coming into the doorway of the bedroom.
“Alara accidentally broke her lip open again.”
“Yeah? She probably shouldn’t be eating the rest of that sub then, right? All the vinegar…”
A small laugh escaped me.
“All yours.”
“There’s enough for both of you,” Christopher added. He dropped the gauze in the trash and reached for the petroleum jelly, gathering some up on his pinky before gliding it across my lips.
“Gross,” I grumbled.
“Your own fault,” he reminded me.
“I didn’t hear you complaining.”
“No,” he agreed, his voice going softer. “No, I’m definitely not complaining.”
After the kids devoured our leftover lunch, Liam took off with my dog and his portable charger, likely using my mutt for content. And, hey, the little jerk cost me a lot of money. He might as well contribute.
Charlotte roped me and Christopher into about a dozen hands of Uno before insisting she was starving around six, prompting Christopher to whip up some quick chicken breasts, broccoli, and sweet potatoes while we all discussed Charlotte’s options for an upcoming extra credit book report.
It was all so… natural.
Comfortable.
I didn’t feel like a guest crashing their domesticity.
I felt like I was part of it.
Like I belonged.
But those were dangerous thoughts to be having.
So I pushed them down and asked Charlotte if she finished her most recent book or not.