‘And you thought you’d come home expecting me to be hard, hmm?’ He makes his point very well, rotating his hips.
I slide my fingers between us again, gratified by the sound he makes in response and, pushing up on my tiptoes, I run my tongue around his ear.
‘You’re always hard for me,’ I whisper, sucking the fleshy lobe into my mouth. ‘Because you’re a good boy.’
‘Fuck, keep doin’ that and I might not be for much longer,’ he gasps, pushing himself into my hand. ‘And you did’nae even bring me flowers,’ he complains, resuming character.
‘Fuck the flowers. Tonight I need the thorns.’
He pulls his head back, his cool grey gaze staring down at me, his expression morphing from mirth to something more solid. An unspoken understanding passes between us. I don’t need to tell him what a shitty day I’ve had. I don’t need to mention the house fire earlier that left three children in intensive care and their parents with horrific burns from their rescue attempts. I don’t need to tell him I’m no longer in the mood for a cuddle or a cathartic cry. I’ll want this later, I’ll want to share the pain of the day, but right not I crave something else.
Something to take my mind off reality.
I crave the forget.
His hands slide up my body, coming to rest on my shoulders as my thigh lowers from his hip. He doesn’t have to exert much pressure to have me on my knees, my body moving of its own accord seamlessly.
The room is silent but for the sound of his heavy breath.
The soft susurrus of his zipper.
The swish of fabric against his thigh.
His soft sigh as I move my tongue over his piercing.
The rasp in his throat as I take him in my mouth as best as I can.
The satin and the steel, the soft musk of him, the noises he makes as I work him deeper, but it’s still not enough. Tears gather in my lashes as I hear the mother’s pleas for news of her babies as sedation pulled her under. The scent of smoke lingers in my nostrils, the acrid taste of it from her singed clothing coating the back of my throat. And if I close my eyes, I know I’ll see the poor woman’s hands and arms, the epidermis crackled and black.
As though sensing my need for distraction, Kit begins running his fingers through the strands of my hair before gathering them at the base of my neck, immobilising my head. My mouth is a wideoaround his girth as I stare up at him.
‘You look so beautiful, honey bee,’ he murmurs, rubbing my tears with his thumb. ‘I want you to cry for me now.’
His fingers are almost painful as he tightens them, sliding his massive length further into my mouth. I do my best to accommodate him, flattening my tongue and stretching wide until my jaw aches.
‘That’s it,’ he grunts through gritted teeth, ‘open wide for me. Take me all the way in.’
Following his next slide backwards, he thrusts back in. My head immobilised, there’s little I can do but take it as he drives himself in and out of my throat. He works a little more length inside with each thrust, until my nose is pressed into his skin as he holds me tight against his body.
He pulls out quite suddenly, leaving my breathing ragged, tears and the days’ mascara streaming down my face.
‘Fuck, that blows my mind,’ he moans breathlessly as I instantly begin to lick him from base to tip. ‘You take me so fucking beautifully.’
‘More,’ I demand hoarsely, working him with my fist, when he slides his hand under my arm, pulling my mouth to his. His fingers pull from my hair, dancing down my back as we kiss. As they reach my ass, they squeeze the flesh so tight I know I’ll bruise.
‘I’ll give you plenty. Just get your sweet arse up those stairs, darlin’, ‘cause I’ve a mind to abuse it.’
I can’t help my excited smile as I turn on my heel, but as I reach the bottom of the staircase, I realise Kit isn’t following.
‘You’re coming, right?’ His responding expression is kind of painful as he slips his hardness into his underwear.
‘Like that’s even a question,’ he says, shooting me a wicked smile. ‘The answer, however, is multiple times.’
‘Then, where are you going,’ I ask as he turns toward the kitchen.
‘Away you go.’ He makes a shooing motion. ‘This domestic god has to see to the meat.’
‘I thought that’s what I was just doing,’ I answer saucily before dashing up the stairs.
