He pushes off the door, taking a step toward me and asks gruffly, “You good?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” I lie, shrugging.
I sit on the edge of the bed. He sighs, sitting down next to me. He’s close but not touching. I lean back, my arms behind me. He leans forward and sets his forearms on his knees and stares at the floor.
“Dunno,” he admits, “just got in my head for a second.” He rubs the scar on his knuckle. There’s another beat of silence between us, before he turns to me. “Was last night okay?”
Is that what he’s worried about? That I didn’t want it? That I couldn’t handle it? It’s extremely sweet and my chest warms at the thought. I pull the robe down between my legs, scooting back to sit cross-legged. “What do you mean?”
“I felt you tense up,” he shares bluntly, though there’s no accusation in it. “Like somethin’ shifted between last night and now. And yeah, I got stuck wonderin’ if I fucked up somewhere.” He hesitates. “So tell me straight. We good?”
“I was worried you’d change your mind in the daylight. That you’d wake up and regret last night like how you regretted kissing me,” I explain honestly, twisting my lip ring.
“Not a chance.” He reaches out, catching my chin. His thumb gently stops the nervous habit. “Only regret I got is not puttin’ those pricks in the ground before they laid hands on you. Not this.” He lets his hand drop. “You wanna know what I thought when I woke up? That finally, after years of sleepin’ like shit, I didn’t have a single nightmare. Because you were right there.”
“Me either.” My response is quiet.
His expression softens, he lightly pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “Should’ve known.” His fingers linger against my skin.
“What about you?” He trails the edge of my robe, smoothing it. “Any regrets about last night?”
“Not a one,” I reply with a smile. I stand up and walk in front of him. Knowing he doesn’t regret what happened makes me feel emboldened. I step between his legs, placing my palms on his knees.
“Good,” he mutters. His hands settle on my hips. A smirk tugs at his lips. “Because I was plannin’ on doin’ it again.” His grip tightens and he pulls me closer, until my thighs brush the edge of the mattress.
“Can I try something?” I grab the elastic on my wrist and pull my hair up on top of my head, sinking down to my knees.
He sucks in air through his teeth. “Wildflower,” he whispers, voice wrecked at the implication. “You don’t have to ask permission for that.”
His hands slide up to cradle my cheeks. His thumbs brush my cheekbones as he searches my face. It reminds me of the way he checked in with me last night.
That one act from him makes me even more sure. I drop my robe, letting the fabric pool on the floor. My hand dips into hiswaistband. His hand fists into the sheets by his hip. The other threads through the hair at the nape of my neck as he fights the urge to take the lead. His thumb brushes lightly along my jaw, coaxing. I take that as my cue to push his pants down. He angles his hips to make it easier. His cock springs free already hard enough to press against his stomach. He’s longer and thicker than anyone else I’ve been with. I wrap my hand around the base.
“Fuck,” he grits out.
His eyes flutter shut for a split second before refocusing on me. He looks undone already, raw and burning for me in a way I’ve never seen from him. It makes my chest ache and my pulse quicken.
“Seriph.” His voice is tight and strangled. “You keep lookin’ at me like that, I’m not gonna last.”
I dip my head forward, my tongue darting out over the tip, lapping the pearl of precum glistening on the small slit. I glide my hand softly down and up his hard, velvet length. He curses softly and I feel him twitch, hips bucking at the touch. He bites into his bottom lip, watching me tease him. I lick him from base to tip before swirling my tongue around the top. Sucking him into my mouth, I allow my tongue to caress him before starting a slow rhythm in tandem with my hand.
“Just like that,” he breathes out as his head falls back.
His abs flex as he strains to keep his hips from moving. His thighs taut, fighting the desire to buck into my mouth. He lets out a guttural noise when I increase the pressure and hollow my cheeks.
“Christ,” he curses, “fuckin’ perfect at this, too.”
His hand flexes in my hair. He’s not guiding. Just feeling. His breath hitches and I can tell he’s close.
I start to feel his cock pulsing and I don’t stop the steady motion I’ve created between my hand and my mouth. Instead, Isuck him deeper. His entire body locks up and a ragged gasp is ripped from him as his hips jerk helplessly. His fingers tighten in my hair just shy of painful.
“Seriph,” he chokes out, “I’m gonna come down your fuckin’ throat if you don’t—” His warning cuts off with a shuddering groan as he comes hard. He lets out a low wrecked grunt that sounds almost surprised.
His orgasm catches us both off guard. I thought I had more time. Pulse after pulse, spills hot cum between my lips. I breathe through my nose and try to take as much as I can. I keep working him through it with my hand. I swallow in time with the spurts as they hit the back of my throat. He trembles through the aftershocks.
I pull my mouth off of him and suck in air. His hand lets go of my hair only to slide down and cradle my face instead. The gesture is tender, making my heart ache. It’s like he’s checking on me even now. His chest rising and falling as if he ran a mile in full gear.
“Fuck,” he rasps, “didn’t think you’d...”
