He sounds so serious. Like that’s genuinely what he thought.
Fuck. Maybe it was.
Sometimes I forget this man hasn’t been around anyone but his family in years. That the only real relationship he had was with his high school sweetheart. It makes total sense he might not pick up on cues that someone with more dating experience would.
Titus’s other hand leaves the counter, fingers sinking into the flesh of my hip as he pulls my ass tight to him. “Was that really your way of telling me you needed something I wasn’t giving you?”
A shiver snakes down my spine at the question, sending goosebumps racing over my limbs. I can’t seem to speak with him grabbing me like this—rocking my ass against his very prominent hard on—so the best I can do is nod.
Titus makes the sexiest sort of growling groan I’ve ever heard as his forehead drops to my shoulder. “And is that the same thing you’re trying to tell me now?” There’s a rawness in his voice that wasn’t there before. A strain that makes me wonder how long he’s been holding himself back, stupidly thinking I wasn’t ready.
Again, I nod, the motion jerky and eager. But this time, I also manage a whispered, “Yes.”
I don’t want any more confusion. Not when I’m so close to getting what I need. And not just in the physical sense.
“Thank fucking God.” The words rush out of him and I brace, thinking he’s going to pick me up and carry me back to bed.
But Titus wasn’t exaggerating when he said all he was waiting for was me to say the word.
Before I can blink, his fingers are gripping the waist of my pajama pants and tugging them down, barely getting them past my thighs before abandoning them to cup one wide palm over my pussy. His touch presses deeper, parting me as one digit slides along my slick skin. I wobble a little when he strokes alongside my clit, both hands gripping the counter as he shifts behind me, the support of his body leaving for a second. When it comes back, the heat of his skin presses directly against mine. The hard line of his cock nudges between my thighs and I spread my feet as far as they’ll go with my pants still tangled at my knees.
His body impales mine in a single, swift flex of his hips, and my head drops back, falling against his shoulder as Titus rocks against me, pressing even deeper. Like he won’t settle for less than being as far inside me as he can get.
It feels so good to finally be filled that my legs wobble again, threatening to give out. And that absolutely cannot happen. He’ll probably think I passed out, and there’s no way he’ll finish fucking me if he so much as suspects I’m dizzy.
So I hold onto the counter like my life depends on it, white-knuckling the edge as Titus starts to move. Each thrust of his hips is purposeful. Focused. There’s no random jackhammering or mismatched rhythm here. Just the solid, steady spearing of his body into mine.
I start to sag forward, the dual sensation of Titus finally fucking me and the fingers still strumming my clit making it impossible to keep myself from folding in half as pleasureoverwhelms me. Titus’s arm wraps around me, his free hand spreading across my chest, holding me upright as his hips continue their unerring cadence.
“Is this what you wanted, Mariah?” Titus grits the words out against my ear. “Is this what you thought I didn’t want to give you?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “I will give you anything you want, any time you want it.” His hold on me tightens as I lose a little more of my ability to stand. “But there was no fucking way I was going to take any more from you.”
Any more? What in the hell does this man think he’s taken? He doesn’t even expect me to do my actual job at this point, and now he’s acting like letting him fuck me across the kitchen counter is a fucking gift.
I mean, it is, but I’m not sure he’s the one on the receiving end.
“I have wanted this for so goddamned long, but I couldn’t—” For the first time, his hips stutter, losing their rhythm just a little as he groans against my skin. “You feel so fucking good.” The hand between my thighs becomes more focused. Insistent. “I need you to help me out here a little. It’s been a minute since I’ve done this, and I’m not going to break any stamina records, but I’m not coming until you do.” His hold on me shifts just enough so his free hand can curve around my breast, strong fingers teasing the nipple into a stiff peak. “So if you have any pointers on how we might expedite that process, I’m all ears.”
Is he asking me what I like? That’s… new. No man has ever requested direction. They just had at it, thinking they were knocking it out of the park when really they missed every freaking pitch that came across the plate.
“Got any ideas for me?” Titus’s breath is warm against my skin, his voice ragged. “I’m not above begging.”
“Begging isn’t necessary.” I’m just as interested in me getting off as he is, and unfortunately I don’t think it’s going to happen like this. “But I think standing up is not going to work for me.”
It sounds good in theory—getting bent over whatever’s handy—but put into practice isn’t nearly as fantastic as I expected. It’s great—don’t get me wrong—but not ‘get to the finish line’ great.
“Not a problem.” Before I can brace, Titus has pulled out and is spinning me to face him. Then I’m up on the counter, perched on the edge as he wraps my legs around his waist and sinks back into me. His nose teases alongside mine, a slow smile curving his lips. “I like this better too.” His arms wrap around me, holding me tight as his mouth seals against mine in an all-consuming kiss.
I am surrounded by him. Filled by him. Possessed by him.
And now that I don’t have to worry about collapsing under my own weight, racing straight for a climax of epic proportions. Dangling on the edge as he fucked me from behind must have leveled up all the sensations I’m experiencing, because my body locks up from the overwhelm. I don’t mean to grip Titus so hard as we tip over the edge together, but I can’t help it. He’s all there is to hang onto, and I know no matter what, he’s got me.
Even as the room spins out and I shatter into a million pieces, I’m positive they’ll all be there when I come back. He won’t lose a single one. He’s determined enough to protect them and patient enough to put every bit back into place.
I think that might be what he’s been doing this whole time, I just didn’t notice it. Didn’t see how different feeling safe was making me. I’m still a work in progress—and probably always will be—but the need to pretend to be perfectly happy and perfectly tolerable has faded. I don’t have to give Titus fake smiles so he won’t leave. I don’t have to censor what I say or how I act for him to find me palatable.
Not having to wear around that armor is freeing.
It’s also a little terrifying.
