His fingers dig into my bare skin, rough calluses scraping just enough to send sparks up my spine. I'm perched on the cool edge of the counter, legs parting instinctively to let him step between them, his body heat radiating through the thin barrier of his boxer briefs. The light from outside filters through the window, casting golden streaks across his broad shoulders, highlighting the flex of his muscles as he presses closer.
I arch into him, my t-shirt riding up my torso. Ethan's mouth crashes back onto mine, tongue thrusting deep, tasting like coffeeand sleep and raw want. He groans into the kiss, the sound vibrating through me, and his hands roam higher, thumbs brushing the hem of my T-shirt before shoving it upward in one fluid motion. The fabric bunches under my arms, and cool air hits my nipples, making them tighten instantly.
“Fuck, Lucky,” he rasps, breaking away to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down my neck.
His stubble scrapes against my collarbone as he nips at the skin, then soothes with his tongue. I gasp, fingers threading into his hair, tugging him lower. He doesn't need more encouragement—his mouth latches onto one breast, sucking the nipple hard between his lips, teeth grazing just enough to make me whimper.
My hips buck against him, seeking friction, and I feel the hard length of his cock straining against the cotton of his shorts, pressing right against my bare pussy. I'm already slick, arousal coating my thighs from the way he's devouring me, claiming every inch like it's his right. His free hand kneads my other breast, pinching the peak until I cry out, the pleasure-pain shooting straight to my core.
“Ethan—please,” I beg, voice breathless, my legs wrapping around his waist to pull him impossibly closer.
The counter edge bites into my ass, but I don't care; all I want is him inside me, filling the ache that's building with every flick of his tongue.
He lifts his head, eyes dark and stormy, locked on mine with that intense, possessive gaze that makes my heart stutter.
“You want my cock, darling? Right here on this counter?” His voice is low, gravelly, laced with that protective edge that says he's checking, even as his hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise.
“Yes,” I nod frantically, reaching down to palm him through his briefs.
He's thick, throbbing under my touch, and I stroke him from base to tip, feeling the damp spot where pre-cum has leaked through. He hisses, thrusting into my hand, and then he's yanking the waistband down, freeing his erection. It slaps against my inner thigh, hot and heavy, the head nudging my folds.
In one swift move, he shoves my t-shirt all the way off, tossing it to the floor. Now we're both bare, skin to skin in the sunlit kitchen, nothing between us but need. His hands cup my ass, lifting me slightly off the counter as he lines himself up. The tip of his cock parts my lips, sliding through my wetness, teasing my entrance.
“Tell me you're mine,” he demands, voice rough, forehead pressed to mine as he holds still, torturing us both.
“I'm yours,” I whisper, nails digging into his shoulders. “All yours, Ethan. Take me.”
That's all he needs. He thrusts forward, burying himself deep in one long, smooth stroke. I cry out, the stretch burning so good, my walls clenching around his thickness as he fills me completely. He's so big, hitting every sensitive spot, and I rock my hips to meet him, urging him on.
He starts moving, slow at first—pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in, the slap of our bodies echoing in the quiet kitchen. His hands grip my thighs, spreading me wider, angling me so he can drive deeper.
“So tight,” he growls, lips brushing my ear. “This pussy was made for me. Gripping my cock like you never want to let go.”
I moan, head falling back against the cabinet behind me, the wood cool on my heated skin. The morning light dances over us, illuminating the sweat beading on his chest, the way his abs tense with each thrust. My breasts bounce with the rhythm, and he leans in to capture one in his mouth again, sucking hard as he fucks me relentlessly.
Pleasure coils tight in my belly, building fast under his assault. One hand slips between us, his thumb finding my clit, rubbing firm circles that make stars burst behind my eyelids.
“Come for me, darling,” he murmurs, voice strained, hips snapping harder. “I want to feel you squeeze me.”
It's too much—the possessive tone, the way he watches me like I'm the only thing in his world, the relentless pressure on my clit combined with his cock pounding into me. I shatter, orgasm crashing over me in waves, my pussy fluttering wildly around him, juices soaking us both. I scream his name, legs trembling, clinging to him as he holds me through it, never stopping his thrusts.
“That's it, luv,” he praises, his British accent coming out hot and thick on my neck. “So fuckin’ perfect.”
A few more deep strokes, and he's following me over the edge, groaning low as he spills inside me, hot pulses of cum flooding my core. He buries his face in my shoulder, body shuddering, arms wrapping around me like he'll never let go.
We stay like that, panting, tangled together on the counter as the world slowly rights itself. His cock softens inside me, but he doesn't pull out, just holds me close, pressing soft kisses to my damp skin.
“I've got you,” he whispers, that protective rumble in his chest making my heart swell. “Always, Lucky. Right here.”
I nod against him, fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back, the morning light wrapping us in its warmth. Right here, with him still buried deep and his arms my safe harbor, everything feels right—raw, real, and utterly ours.
For a moment, neither of us moves.
Just breathing.
Just the quiet hum of the refrigerator.
Just the morning light catching dust motes drifting lazily in the air.
