The awareness hits me in the stomach, somewhere behind my navel before it tugs and pulls, making the thing he needs clench.
My pussy.
And God, my pussy needs him too.
Yes, it’s not the most heartfelt declaration but it’s something, isn’t it? It’ssomething– he was thinking about me while he was there, while he was maybe even with… her – and I bite my lip with both love and lust for him.
“You know what I mean, don’t you?”
I nod. “Yes.”
His eyes bore into mine then. “Tell me what I came back for.”
I shiver at his command.
At his usual familiar command, and it makes my channel ripple. It somehow also squeezes my heart, expanding my love for him as I whisper, “My Arrow came back for my pussy.”
His eyes flash when I obey him and maybe I’m pathetic but it makes my toes curl with pleasure.
“Yeah, that’s right. I came back for your bad girl pussy,” he rumbles, looming over my lips. “That’s why I changed my flights, dealt with the most incompetent crew in the history of all airlines all day and flew out twenty four hours early. Because I haven’t had her in a week.”
He pushes his palm against the wall, his fingers flexing. “And because my fist is no good. My fist isn’t tight enough, no matter how much I clench it. And my fist isn’t wet enough, no matter how much I spit on my palm and grease up my cock, do you understand? So I’m going to need her.”
The tendons on his neck vibrate, the silver chain glittering even more as he continues, “I’m going to need your pouty little snatch. I’m going to need your snatch to run like a river for me because I’ve missed that. I’vemissedyou polishing my cock up, making it shine with your juices like it’s some kind of a trophy. Some kind of a coveted prize that you want to buff and rub down between your legs. That’s why I came back early. That’s what I need from you.”
By the time he finishes, he’s rubbing our lips together. He’s half kissing me and I’m half delirious with lust.
I’m half delirious with his heat and his scent and the way he’s breathing in great gusts.
“I missed –”
“Shh, don’t talk.” He slowly shakes his head. “I’ve had a shitty fucking week, okay? And then I come to you for relief and findyou dancing with someone else. It’s a miracle that I haven’t lost my shit yet. So don’t say a word. Just let me fuck that pussy.”
I grab his face then.
Somehow, in the midst of all the lust and love inside of me, I manage to break my hands away from his chest and put them on his harsh, ticking cheeks.
“Arrow, what happened? What are you –”
“Just let me feel good,” he says and destroys all my words with his raspy ones.
With his guttural,needyones.
So I slide my hands away from his face and into his thick, sun-struck, messy hair. Because all my questions and words can wait. They are inconsequential anyway. In the face of his need.
“Okay. Fuck me. Make yourself feel good,” I whisper.
His chest expands on a long breath and I swear his eyelids become so heavy that his eyes are almost shut before he envelops my mouth in a kiss.
A hot and wet and desperate kiss.
The kind of a kiss that you give to someone when you see them after a year.
A decade, a century. A lifetime maybe.
This isn’t the way you kiss someone when you’ve only been away for a week. You don’t bite at each other’s lips and you don’t fill their mouths with needy noises and craving tongues.
You don’t even pull at each other’s clothes like this.
