If he was thinking of my trauma when he suggested the therapist, it’s his trauma I’m mindful of when I at last relent. “Fine. We can see a therapist.”
He rewards my words with a loud smack on my lips and an even louder smack on my ass. “You won’t regret it, cricket. It’s going to help us. I promise. Now let’s go make me some coffee. My head hurts.”
He lifts me up into his arms and carries me effortlessly into the kitchen.
“Quill!” I giggle. “I’m naked!”
“So? I’ve seen you naked before.”
“But Josh hasn’t!”I hope. “He’s here!”
“Then we’ll make lots of noise, so he knows not to come bother us.”
I roll my eyes, but then I take in his tented cock in his briefs.Yes please.It’s a relief knowing that it would take much more than tears to turn him off.
As if he’stryingto embarrass me, Quill throws me over his shoulder when we reach the door, and lets fly more resoundingspanks on my ass with apparently the sole purpose of warning Josh away. It’s a lucky thing the latter sleeps in even later than me.
Still, I groan, dangling helplessly over his shoulder as he makes himself coffee and then tea for me.
“You know, Icansit down,” I protest. “That’s probably the first thing the therapist will flag. The fact that you can’t bear to not touch me at all times.”
Smack. “You can bear it even less than me. If you don’t stop squirming around, I’ll make it so youcan’tsit down, whether you want to or not.”
Then he gets some milk out from the fridge, oats from the cupboard, and rummages around until he finds a saucepan and wooden spoon.
“Seriously, Quill? Are you going to fricking cook a full meal while you’ve got me over your shoulder?”
“Not a full meal, no. Just oatmeal.”
“Quill!”
Ignoring me, he tumbles the ingredients into the saucepan, then turns on the gas range. I start to squirm around on his shoulders, and even kick my legs up and down a few times, trying to get his attention.
At last he sets me down.
“Finally!” I huff. “I’ll have you know, Quill, that I’mnota sack of flour and—what are you doing?”
He’s smacking the spoon back and forth against his palm, as if testing its power. I widen my eyes. “Uhm, no, Quill, you aredefinitelynot—”
“Turn around,” he orders with an evil smirk.
Fuck,I’m so wet. “Absolutely not.” I fold my arms, enjoying the sensation of him forcing me, whether I act like I want it or not. It feels soothing, going back to this dynamic after allowing ourselves to be vulnerable together. “You arenotgoing to spankme with that!”
“Really?” he questions, his grin widening.
“You’ll burn the oatmeal!”
“I can multitask.” He finds a second spoon and lies it next to the saucepan, then whirls me around.
“I’m gonna make you holler nice and loud so Josh can hear you,” he threatens.
“Qui-i-ll!”
I know he would commit murder before he’d ever allow anyone to see me naked. But we both get turned on by the idea of someone possibly finding us. And lately, he also seems to enjoy the thought that Josh could be listening in.
I can’t help but be a bit turned on by that too, though I’m mostly relieved that Josh has purchased a stock of earplugs, so I’m pretty sure he doesn’t hear much if anything.
Quill pushes me against the counter, making me bend over, and nudges my thighs apart. Then he runs the spoon over my cheeks, then dips it lower, rubbing my pussy. I moan, arching into it, before…whap!
