“Okay, okay, I’ll look at booking things that aren’t as time sensitive first.” She claps her hands then hugs Corvus and it’s like watching an innocent child handle a snake as if it’s a toy. “I can’t believe my son’s getting married. I’m so happy!”
So am I. Until I notice the tight set to Corvus’s shoulders, and his wide eyes. The man is looking shellshocked.
Guess I’ll just have to give him a relaxing massage at home. One with a happy end.
Chapter 18
Corvus
Twoweekslater
Half an hour ago, I told Dalton no, but now I’m naked, bent over the kitchen island, and his tongue is up my asshole. My muscles turn liquid with each stroke, and as he squeezes my buttocks hard, before pulling them wider apart, I start sliding off the counter. A moan stutters out of my lips when the smooth wood pulls on my hard nipples, and I straighten my arms, grabbing the faucet of the sink on the other side of the island.
I’m still embarrassed of him kissing me so intimately. I worry my body might work against me, that I might not smell or taste right, but the steady, delicious glide of Dalton’s tongue takes away all my fears and worries. He’s so hungry for me, for every bit of my body, and I let him feast.
I did hook up with people in the past, but even my first time pales in comparison to the things Dalton has done to me in the past two weeks.
Has it really beenthat long?
We spend lots of time together, sleep in the same bed, but I’m still not sick of the stranger invading my home. Maybe it’s the novelty of having steady access to someone who can satisfy me sexually, but the idea of sequestering him in separate quarters has long since died, and I find myself missing his company whenever I leave for work.
I no longer worry he’s going to flee.
I jog with him each morning and spend my evenings on the sofa, showing him movies he didn’t know existed. I even agreed to watch the newest superhero blockbuster when he got all excited to see it. It was… okay. But Dalton made us popcorn and managed not to burn down the kitchen in the process, so it was nice to turn my brain off and lean against him.
I actually sleep through the night now, as if the steady weight of another body next to me has quieted the demons warning me each noise is evidence of a break-in. I used to always check each creak I heard. Now, I assume Dalton has walked into something, which might not have improved my personal safety, but it does make me way more peaceful.
“No…” I whine when he pulls his face from in between my ass cheeks. All the nerve endings of my pucker are throbbing with the need to be licked again. He’s so damn good at it.
But I can’t complain when he forces my legs wider apart and sucks in half my dick in one go. My toes curl, my balls tighten, and the hairs on the backs of my thighs bristle when he slides his massive hands up them.
I’m in my personal heaven. I never imagined I could let a man do the things to me that Dalton does, but his easy going nature means one minute I’m laughing at some stupid joke about fucking a hotPop-Tart, the next he’s an insatiable sex machine bending me over and pulling down my pants.
When lubed fingers push past my rim, I shiver, still sore from letting him have me twice yesterday. I already knew it might be a bit too much, but then he rolled me over, play-wrestling me on the floor whileThe Cabinet of Doctor Caligariplayed on my TV, and suddenly I was full of cock and regretted nothing.
Is it normal that I can’t remember the number of times we had sex? It’s only been two weeks, but maybe it doesn’t matter. The burden of secrecy weighed heavily on my shoulders, and now I’m finally free.
He’s so good at making me feel normal about all this too. For years, I was self-conscious about my fantasies, and the needs they created, but even when he drives me crazy, when I lose control and say or do embarrassing things while he tops me as though he hopes we can make a baby, he’s simply enjoying himself. He’s nothing like some of the dominant, smug assholes I’ve experimented with in the past.
I rock my hips to meet three fingers lodged inside me, and everything about this moment is fucking perfect until my phone starts to buzz.
It’s on the counter, so very close to my face, but when I spot my mother’s name, I shut my eyes and ignore it, because I won’t be taking a break from pleasure to answer another question about menu preferences for the wedding I’ve cornered myself into.
Fortunately, the ringing soon stops, and I rise to my toes, trying to get Dalton’s thick fingers to touch my prostate, because—
“Fuck, yes,” I growl when electric sensations dance down my legs. “I-m… fuck, I’m ready…”
The sex hasn't gone downhill from that first mind-blowing time either. If anything, it's gotten even better, because he listens, notices my reactions to things, and adjusts how he fucks me. So now he knows how much to stretch me, that I enjoy a bit of pain and having my limits pushed, that I like his weight on top of me, and that if he pushes the right buttons, he can fuck me silly midway up the stairs. Which he did last week.
Dalton slowly pulls his mouth off my cock, and gives my balls an embarrassingly tender few kisses, but I’m past caring about decorum. "I love your hole…" he whispers, still languidly pumping his fingers into me.
What he leaves unsaid is ‘stretched and slick’ for his dick but I appreciate the sentiment, nevertheless.
I slide my foot back, then raise it, rubbing it against his knee, because I want more. As pleasurable as his mouth is on my cock, there’s a greediness in me, a thirst demanding that I’m reduced to begging while he pins me to a surface. It’s almost a slight when he takes his time this way, and I itch to make him lose control, be so aroused by me he can’t hold in his passion anymore.
“Now.” I try to make it sound like an order, not begging, but I’m not sure if I succeeded.
“Love it when you whine for me,” he says and stands up behind me.
