For a moment, I’m happy to stand and watch. She’s graceful, the motions as she sways from side to side swinging out the skirt of her dress. When she twirls, it lifts high enough to get a peek at the ladder of scarring.
The farther her abuse falls into the background, the less worry she attaches to the outlet she used to manage her stress. During the summer, she even wore shorts that weren’t nearly long enough to provide camouflage to the old wounds.
Her eyes widen as she catches me watching, then she laughs and pulls me into the dance number, though I haven’t a clue what she’s listening to.
“Here,” she says, removing one side when she works that out. She rubs the earbud against her dress and slots it into place without missing a single step.
The noise of a revved-up salsa bursts into my ear and I take over the lead, then, growing far less interested in the dance than the dancer, I manoeuvre her to the counter. I lift her onto it, positioning her so our eyes are level while she spreads her legs wide, pulling me hard against her while she links her ankles behind my back.
“Guess who made it into a high-paying match tomorrow?”
“Ooh.” Her eyes open wide, dancing with a fresh tease. “Antoine? Did he finally make it onto the district back benches?”
“No.”
“Wesley. I must phone Rowena to see if she’s free. She always did enjoy watching his toned arse.”
“Nope.”
“Hm. Craig?” I shake my head, finding the zipper on the back of her dress and slowly sliding it down until the fabric sags out of shape. “Gareth?”
“He’s not even on the team, Princess.”
“Leota?”
“Got passed over last year.” I pull the front of her dress down, flipping her bra up so her delectable tits are on display. “Gotta say, you’re really bad at this.”
And then I don’t say anything for a while because my mouth is pulling her nipple inside, feeling it harden at the influx of sensation, then soften as my tongue rolls against it, my hand stealing up to find entertainment on its neighbour.
I can’t say anything as her pussy rubs against me, her sliding forward so her hips are tilted enough to press it right against my hardening cock.
“Not in the kitchen,” she admonishes, as much a stickler for the rules inside our household as she is anywhere. “It’s not hygienic right next to where I’m preparing food.”
I tear myself away from my current course of action to cast a reluctant eye over the variety of chopped vegetables on display. “Food, you say.”
“One of us has to watch your diet.”
“You can,” I tell her as I remove the burden of her bra by pulling the elastic straps over her hands, plucking in from the gaping neckline of her undone dress.
“I openly invite you to watch me eating any time you like. Like this,” I take her nipple back into my mouth until her back arches and her hands dig into my hair, trying to tear it out by the roots.
“Or like this,” I say, switching my attention to her thighs where I bunch the dress up to her waist with one hand, dragging her knickers off with the other, before settling on my knees. “You can watch me eat for hours if you like.” I smile up at her before my face parks itself serenely between her legs.
My tongue slides up her inside flesh, lapping at her entrance until her hips buck against me. I move away, gliding higher, my head catching as her dress reaches the extent of its give and forms a barrier to my upward progress.
“Why are you still wearing clothes?” I grumble, dropping kisses across her abdomen while my hands work to remedy the situation. “I designate this kitchen a clothing-free area from now on.”
“Then you can be in charge of cooking your own breakfast,” she giggles back, thrusting my head down so she can work herself out of the dress without tearing it at the seams. “See how you like your new rules when you get the first bit of bacon spitting fat at your nether regions.”
“Fine.” I grab her mid-wriggle and toss her over my shoulder, striding from the room. “If that’s your attitude, we’ll hire a cook.”
“We can’t afford a cook.”
I throw her down on the bed, immediately moving to straddle her and strip what’s left of her clothing. “We can now.”
“Really? What else can we afford?”
“You can probably give up those hours in the coffee shop if you like.”
