The fingers of one hand wrap around the arm rest as the others tangle in my strands, each holding tight as I bob over him, humming a little to increase the sensation with the slight vibration of my voice.
Not for another second does Titus look away from me. Maybe not even to blink. It's like the initial feel of my mouth on his skin overwhelmed him, but he'll be damned if it happens again, because he's not missing a fucking thing.
And that is really freaking sexy. It's also really freaking empowering to have a man unable to take his eyes off me. It makes me a little bolder. I want to give him more than he's expecting. I also want to see if I can make him accidentally close his eyes again.
The next time I pull back, I hollow my cheeks, sucking a little harder as I slide up his dick. I watch his face, and I swear his eyesflutter, almost closing as a groan rumbles through his chest and his fingers flex against my scalp.
"Fucking hell, Mariah." He's panting now, making his words choppy. "You might kill me with that mouth."
The mouth in question is too stuffed with his dick to smile, but my cheeks tighten anyway, an odd sort of pleasure snaking through me. Pleasing a man isn't what I would have called a chore, but I didn't crave it. Didn't think about it obsessively. Didn't treat it like a quest. Not until Titus. And I don't see that stopping.
Because I'm already planning what I could do next time to make it even better for him.
He definitely has to be naked, because there is more of him I want to suck on. This time, his jeans are blocking the path I'd need to take. Maybe in his bed, where he can be stretched out, his strong, toned body on full display so I can see every muscle twitch. Every jerk of his limbs. Every curl of his toes as?—
"Fuck." Titus’s voice is sharp. So are the fingers in my hair as he pulls my mouth off him, his other hand leaving the armrest to grip his dick. A second later, it jerks against his hold, a spurt of cum reaching the middle of his chest as he strokes down his length.
I stare at him, transfixed at the sight of him finishing himself off, the mess on his shirt spreading with each twitch of his cock. After a final groan and a deep breath, he peels the ruined cotton off his body and uses it to wipe any lingering mess off his dick before shoving it back into his pants with quick movements.
Then his hands are back on me, lifting me up, pulling me close. One teases along the waistband of my sleeping pants as he asks, “Have I earned any rights of access?”
I’m throbbing and desperate to get off, but…
I bet that’s how Titus was the last time he made a meal of me, and I don’t want to be greedy.
Plus, I made a meal for him and it’s getting cold.
Pushing away, I climb off his lap and back toward the door. “Yes. But you’ve also earned the right to a relatively hot breakfast.” I give him a grin. “And a fresh shirt.”
24
Titus
I've just finished my breakfast and pulled on the fresh shirt Mariah brought me after tilting my world on its axis, when I see Walker pull-up in his side-by-side. Thank God he didn't come any earlier. He might have seen way more than he bargained for through the open blinds of my office windows.
And while I wouldn't have wanted my cousin to have witnessed that specific interaction, a big part of me wants him to know Mariah is mine. That no amount of charm or smooth words will lure her into his bed.
Because she's staying in mine.
I push up from my desk, settling my tray onto the cart I found for Mariah to use since she insists on continuing to cook for me, rolling it along as I go to open the door. I don't want him to ring the bell because Mariah frequently takes a nap in the mornings. If she's curled up on the couch asleep, I won't let him disturb her.
I watch Walker trek up the sidewalk, analyzing the stiffness of his movements and the tightness of his expression. Something's up. I just don't know what it could be.
After closing the door behind him, I tip my head toward the kitchen. "You want something to drink?" I roll the cart into Mariah's domain, loading the empty dishes into the washer so shewon't try to do it herself. "I've got sweet tea, sparkling water…" I tip my head at the fancy machine on the counter. "Coffee, tea."
Walker slides into one of the stools at the island, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I'll take a coffee."
Now that I'm really getting a good look at him, he looks tired. And not in the way that comes from lack of sleep.
Dropping in one of the many pods I ordered after Mariah arrived, I set the machine to run, and finish cleaning up any mess left from breakfast. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?"
Walker’s quiet for a minute, staring down at his hands before finally looking up at my face. "I think I'm ready to figure out who's responsible for the accident."
The admission stuns me. I'm not the only one of us who experienced a life-changing event they struggled to recover from. Like me, Walker lost a woman who was very important to him in a way that is similar enough to the way I lost Kara that I've always felt a connection to him. One rooted in pain and loss. It made me feel like Walker understood what I was going through like no one else could. We dealt with our pain in completely different ways, but that didn't change the similarities. That's why I'm shocked that he wants to talk about it now.
"What brought this on?" I have to ask, because I need to know if he's really serious. Once I start digging into the information I can find, doors will open that probably can't be closed. Knowledge can be power, but it can also be a weakness, breaking even the strongest man in the blink of an eye.
That's why, sitting in a safe, there's an envelope with a single word written inside that I've never been tempted to look at. I don't know if I could handle the knowledge it contains.
