The only words my brain provided wereyes, more,andAndy.
Andy, Andy, Andy.
“Harder,” Andy demanded, thrusts speeding up, whimpers taking on a frustrated edge. “Please, Kit.”
I could never dream of denying him anything he asked for in that soft, pleading voice that said he needed something, and only I could give it to him.
I rolled us both over and pushed him down onto the mattress, sealing our lips together, the headboard banging against the wall as I grabbed it for leverage and gave him everything I had, hard and deep until his thighs tensed around my waist. A broken cry tore out of his throat, his body tensing under me as I followed him over the edge with no hope of slowing down.
Both of Andy’s hands tangled in my hair to pull me in for a messy, biting kiss as I rocked us both through it, the mattress creaking under us as we slowed, slowed, slowed, and then stopped.
It squealed again as I collapsed onto it, panting harshly, automatically reaching out to make contact with Andy. Looking over to check that he was all right.
Smiling when I saw he was looking over at me.
Eventually I managed to touch his fingers, curling one of mine around one of his as our oversensitive bodies came down.
“Hey, Kit?” Andy asked once he’d half caught his breath.
“Mm?”
“Do you really call that buttering someone’s crumpet?”
I blinked at him.
“Doingwhatto yourwhat?”
“That’s what I said,” Andy chuckled. “I knew Robin was full of shit.”
Ah.
“Well, I can’t guarantee that no one’s ever called it that,” I said. “But I certainly don’t.”
Andy laughed again. “Good, because I never want to saybutter your crumpetagain.”
“Unless we’re talking about literal crumpets?” I teased.
“I do like literal crumpets,” Andy allowed. “But you could probably put butter on your own.”
“You wouldn’t butter my crumpet?” I grinned.
“Are we talking about sex or breakfast foods?”
I burst into laughter, heart soaring at the knowledge that nothing had changed between us.
Nothing for the worse, in any case.
Andy rolled out of bed to grab a washcloth from the en suite, cleaning us both up and rewarding me with a few too-brief kisses before climbing under the covers with me as our blood cooled and the chill of the night air set in.
He let me hold him, curled up against his back, pressing soft kisses to his neck.
“Are you all right?” I asked softly. “I didn’t hurt you, or—”
“Kit,” Andy interrupted. “It was great. I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
“That’s asking rather a lot of me,” I murmured against his shoulder.
“I’m not like your mom’s tea set.”
