He brings the spoon hard against the spot where ass cheeks meet thigh. Sure enough, I howl at the sudden, throbbing pain. But he rubs the sting out with the spoon, then goes back to driving it back and forth over my folds.
Another hard crack on the other side, followed by more rubbing. He keeps up at that rhythm for a while, alternating spanking and massaging, until I’m dizzy from the pain and the arousal. At last, he puts the spoon away, and shoves me all the way onto the counter so my stomach is flush against the cool marble.
He kneels under me, latching his mouth onto my bundle of nerves.
“The… the oatmeal, Qui-i-il…” I moan, as his tongue runs over my drenched folds.
Then I bite my lip, because I donotwant to be talking about oatmeal while he’s pleasuring me. At the same time, I also don’t want to be in a burning house, and thankfully, he reaches over and turns off the stove, before going right back to attacking my pussy with his tongue.
“Quill,” I moan, wiggling my ass around as he continues to lave at my folds.
He grabs my wrists and pins them to my lower back with one hand, while the other sinks its fingers into my flesh, keeping me still. Then he sucks in my clit, rolling it around in his mouth, until I come in a shuddering orgasm.
As soon as I sag against the counter, the aftershocks rippling through me, I feel his cock nudge against my entrance, then push in.
“Fuck,” groans Quill, as I moan loudly.
It feels so fucking good, his cock inside me, driving in and out hard, his balls slapping against me, his hands squeezing my sore ass. He fills me completely, a perfect fit, each of his thrusts touching that spot deep inside me that makes me see white. He goes hard and fast, and I don’t even need him to squeeze my neck, I feel breathless enough as it is by the way he’s taking me.
My core has turned to liquid heat, I’m puddling around his cock with desire, when he suddenly pauses and then pulls out. My moans turn into a plea, but he only flips me around and enters me again.
“Quill,” I moan, wrapping my legs around his waist.
He grabs me in his arms, pressing me to him, then goes back to thrusting.
Only this time, each thrust is slow, deliciously slow and deep, and he kisses me passionately at the same time. One of his hands holds me up, the other one strokes my lower back and the welts left by the spoon. I melt into his arms, feeling him take me in this new, loving way. He’s never fucked me quite like this before, andit fulfills a need in me I never even realized I had. I’ve never felt so connected to him as I do now. So loved. So special.
We come at the same time, an orgasm that builds, little by little, in intensity, then washes over us both. I shiver in his arms, feeling so incredibly safe as he holds me. The world around us feels distant, everything else is far away, unimportant. The only thing that matters is us, the bubble of love that we share.
I hear a cell phone ring in the distance, but I’m so in the moment I don’t register it at first.
“I’m going to spend every single day from here to eternity making you happy,” breathes Quill in my ear. “We’re going to have the best life.”
“Yes, Quill,” I murmur, my voice muffled in his chest.
The ringing dies down at last, only to start back up a moment later.
“I’m so in love with you, my little cricket. My own little wife.”
I sigh in happiness, wrapping myself around him all the more. He gives me another kiss, then sets me down gently at the kitchen table.
“Stay right here,” he says, “I’ll be back with the oatmeal.”
“It’s probably burnt to a crisp by now,” I giggle happily.
“Behave.” He gives me a third kiss before tearing himself away from my arms. It’s a real undertaking for us both, to have to separate our bodies just long enough for him to walk across the room, losing the touch of him for just the few seconds it takes for him to ladle porridge into bowls. It’s a struggle to be without his soothing warmth, no matter for how short a time, but I keep my eyes glued to him, to his muscular body and dark, shaggy hair, the tattoos winding up his back and his neck, and on his upper shoulder.
My god, he’s so beautiful. And he’s all mine. What have I ever done to deserve him?
The ringing starts back a third time, and I sigh in aggravation,as my eyes leave him for a second and note the phone on the table. It’s nice, after all this time, to have a new cell phone, though I hardly use it. But whoever is calling must have something important to say. They’reveryinsistent.
Sighing, I grab the phone and look at the number. It’s unknown.
Frowning, I press the green button, then bring it to my ear. “Hello?”
A woman’s voice is on the other end of the line. “Is this… Aurora Moretti?”
My mouth goes dry. What the fuck? I thought everyone who knew my real name was dead. Was Logan wrong? Am I in trouble?
