39. Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Kat
I… wasn’t super hungry. There was too much in my head, too much that I couldn’t quite process. I was absentmindedly staring at the TV, watching but not comprehending what was happening, when something hit my lips. I jumped.
It was just a damn French fry. Attached to an adorably attentive, drunk man who always made it his mission to feed me. I took it from him with my teeth. The pleased smile on his face made it go down a little easier.
Not five minutes later, I found myself moving.
And being placed in the hollow of his crisscrossed legs.
I wasn’t sure if the hand slipping under the shirt I was wearing to hold my waist was on purpose or not, but I sure as hell noticed.
It had the entirety of his forearm and hand warm against the slight chill of my skin.
I leaned my head back onto his shoulder.
This time I saw the fry coming for me. I didn’t open my mouth because I honestly didn’t want it, but he tapped it gently on my bottom lip a couple of times.
In a way that had me thinking of him doing that with…
other things. Between that mental image and all that warm skin touching me, I moaned just a little.
I heard him chuckle, but he didn’t let up. I turned my head away, but I heard him clucking his tongue at me. Then his voice was at my ear.
“You open your mouth when I tell you to, love,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument. Which made me want to argue.
“And if I don’t?” I challenged. He laughed, and it wasn’t a fun sound. His arm tightened around my stomach, hand flexing on my waist. I yelped at the unexpected nip at my earlobe, then got my answer.
“If you don’t, I WILL spank you,” he threatened. I paused, because the thought had me arching my back slightly into him and my heart rate picking up. His thumb stroked my side.
“Mhm, that’s what I thought. You like that idea, don’t you?” he noticed, laughing under his breath. I wasn’t ready to go there just yet, though, so I snagged the fry from his fingers. I chewed it slowly, because my mouth was suddenly rather dry.
The faintest whisper in my ear had me simultaneously obeying, letting out a much louder than anticipated moan.
“Now swallow for me.”
I did as I was told.
I still wasn’t really eating, despite Henry trying to seduce me into sustenance. But he still had ahold of me, keeping me pinned in his lap. Like I’d go anywhere else. I loved being right here. He held my grilled cheese to my lips next. I shook my head.
“Henry, I’m really not hungry anymore,” I explained. He kept it to my lips.
“Two bites. You didn’t eat dinner and no quantity of French fries constitutes a meal,” he said softly. I sighed. He was right. I hated that he was right. I chomped a bite savagely, making him laugh. I swallowed and took my second bite. Now I wanted my prize.
“Can I have my tea now?” I asked. He sighed, putting the sandwich down.
“Why do I feel like I’m negotiating with a bloody toddler?
” he queried. I laughed. But he started doctoring my tea just the way I liked it—the way he took it.
He carefully handed it to me, knowing I only had the one hand.
I slurped obnoxiously while he worked on his mug, his arms easily reaching around me, his face right next to mine.
Once he was done, he moved the tray away from the bed and leaned back on the headboard.
Reaching out for my tea, he beckoned me to him. I carefully situated myself in between his legs while he held both mugs of tea safely out of range. And we finally, actually watched the movie.
Tea gone, alcohol fading ever so slightly, we had slid down to a more horizontal snuggle position. I was draped over him like a blanket and was perfectly content.
Except that I desperately wanted to touch him. Needed to touch him. Needed my mouth on his hot skin, showing him how he deserved to be treated.
He deserved to be worshipped.
So, I did just that.
I was somewhere halfway down his abs, licking between each muscle, reveling in the small sounds I was receiving, enjoying myself thoroughly, slowly, when I felt his hand on my head. Stopping me. I looked up at him through my eyelashes.
“Kat, you don’t-ah, bloody hell love,” he cursed, cutting himself off. It certainly had nothing to do with me palming him through his boxer briefs, easily able to see how much he was enjoying my attention.
“I know, Henry. I want to. Please, please let me,” I begged, knowing he very well could stop me. Not because he didn’t want it. But because he thought sober me might not.
Sober me very much did.
Drunk me agreed enthusiastically.
He grinned down at me, removing his hand from my head, stroking my hair back once before leaving me to my own devices. I started teasing at the edge of his waistband, making him jump. He was just as ticklish as I was. I did it again.
“Kat,” he said in warning. I grinned devilishly up at him. And stuck my tongue out to trace where my fingers had just been, maintaining eye contact.
“Watch your movie and behave, Henry.”