“If you’re going to say I snore, I’d stop while you’re ahead.”
“Not snore,” he slung an arm over my shoulder and drew me to him, “a whistle. Whaddya say?”
Yes! Yes! Yes! the angel on my shoulder sa
id. Already she was imagining cosy snuggles, the peace that comes from sleeping beside a friendly body, the warm pressure of them beside you relaxing something that you just didn’t let go of when on your own. The devil reared its ugly head on my other one. Are you so dependent on him so soon? Didn’t you ask him to leave? Are you so weak to just give in at a few nice words? Fictional characters are not the kind of guys to let your guard down for.
I let out a sigh, “C’mon then. There’s pizza on the coffee table and clean towels in the bathroom.” The door closed behind me and was locked with a snick. Warm, hard arms surrounded me, pulling me close but not pushing against me like last night. I felt like a child, he towered over me, his body a wall of muscle that had wrapped itself around me, shutting out the rest of the world. He dropped a kiss on top of my head and after a while, went silently to shower.
I went to bed, not willing to sit up any longer and try and make small talk. The sheets felt cool and crisp due to the open window, a little too much so, so I curled up in a ball, trying to warm myself. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to sleep. There had been so much going on today, my mind often refused to let go and relax when it was like this. I heard the rush of the shower, then the pizza box open and then after a while, the fridge door open and close. The bed shifted as he laid down beside me, the blankets moving to let him in. He ran a hand down my back, stopping at my hips, then pulled me towards him, nestling my body in the shadow of his. Warmth flooded me from his damp skin, but true to his word, he didn’t do anything else. I watched the stars out over the rooftops of the houses next door until I dropped off to sleep.
18
I woke up late, the morning light flooding into the room, bright and yellow. I stretched out under the covers, listening to my back pop. “Hey,” Gabe said, eyes flicking open.
“Hey.” The silence should have been uncomfortable, but it wasn’t. I stared into his eyes and he stared back, like we were saying something I didn’t consciously understand. He finally reached over, drawing me close for a kiss, but I baulked. “Morning breath.”
“I don’t give a shit about morning breath,” he said and leaned over to touch his lips lightly to mine. When I responded, the kiss grew deeper, slower, the rough of his stubble scraping over my skin as he nipped and sucked at my bottom lip, his tongue lightly running along the seam of my mouth until I gave up and parted them for him. I expected it to be like last time, fierce, plundering greedy kisses, but instead, it was . . . lazy, like he had all the time in the world. He pulled back and cupped my chin with his hand.
“So, where does it hurt the most?”
Which is how I came to be lying on my front, his hard hands mercilessly working on the knots in my thighs and back. “This helping?” he asked in a low rumble.
“Mm . . . you can do that forever,” I said.
I had definitely been too tired for sex last night, but not now. His strong hands worked higher and higher up my thigh and I felt my body slicken in response because now, I was well-rested. As if he knew, his hands trailed away, moving up to my buttocks and starting to dig in there. Just go with it, I told myself, this feels awesome. My body felt like jelly under his hands, the long, sure strokes pushing out all of the pain. After he’d worked his way up my back and down again, he started back on my legs. God, just a little bit higher, I prayed as his hands worked. They dug deep into my tender inner thighs, forcing my cunt to open slightly which almost had me starting to grind on the bed. Finally, his fingers brushed over my most sensitive spot.
“You want this?” he asked with a rasp.
I flipped over in response, too far gone with desire to care about him seeing me in all my morning glory. He knelt there, naked, powerful thighs bent, his cock a rigid column between them. I raised a knee, pointed my toe and very gently, very carefully, ran it up the length of his twitching erection. “Oh yeah.” He instantly moved to cover his body with mine, but I stopped him with my foot on his chest. “Your turn this time,” I said.
“No, look, I need–”
“I know exactly what you need. Shut up and stay where you are.”
“Ash, love, I love where your mind is going, but . . . uhhh!” A choked groan slipped from his lips the moment mine went around his dick. “Ash . . .,” he hissed, almost reverently. His hand buried itself in my hair but did not seek to move or direct me. Rather it was a light, almost disbelieving presence. “Oh, God, Ash!” This was not something I could do easily due to his size, but I felt it long overdue after yesterday. I ran my tongue up the thick ridge that led from the base to the head, heard his breath catch as I laved my tongue over his head, pursing my lips and sucking him in–just the tip–then swirling my tongue around him before opening my mouth wider. I descended slowly, as much because I was afraid my teeth would scrape down his length as anything. I felt the tension in my jaw as I forced him in deeper. “Ash! Ash!” he gasped as I wrapped my hand around the base, where I couldn’t go any further and then set up a steady rhythm.
He couldn’t just sit there and take it, his thighs began to flex, his groin thrusting slightly forward to meet the downward stroke of my mouth. He was getting close, his cock becoming that super engorged hardness that indicated it wouldn’t be long. I upped my speed, saliva drooling down his length. “Uh, uh, oh!” His hands clamped down hard on the sides of my head as he jerked forward, forcing his dick in a little bit further. It throbbed and swelled as he shot his load, his breath a ragged gasp that ended with a shudder.
I was pulled away after that, pushed back onto the bed, my legs parted. He looked down, his eyes raking over my body and then up through slitted eyes, an easy smile on his face. “My turn now.”
He slid up behind me as I was cooking eggs and bacon in the kitchen, circling my waist with a strong arm, resting his head in the point between my neck and shoulders, bestowing light, prickly kisses along the skin. “Smells good, baby. I bet it tastes almost as good as you.”
“Reckon you’re getting some?” I asked, smacking his hand away with the spatula as he tried to spear a small piece on the end of a fork.
“Love, a man’s gotta keep his strength up if he’s gonna do what I’m planning–”
“Yeah, about that. I’m due at my parents for a late lunch. I figure we have some breakfast, have a shower, probably time for a quick round two and then we can catch up afterwards if you’re still keen.” He moved to lean against the kitchen counter. I pulled out plates and started dishing out the food when I noted the crossed arms and the twisted smile. “What? I cook the bacon too long for you?”
“You don’t want me to come?”
“What? Before I leave? Sure I do. I’m pretty keen to as well. This morning was lovely, but for some reason, it makes me just want more.”
“Is that what this is, Ash?” he said, picking up his plate and taking a seat at the bench. “You scratch my itch, I’ll scratch yours.”
“Well, yeah. Isn’t it? What are you saying? That you want to meet my parents?” I chuckled at this. Guys, in my experience, would jump off three-story balconies to get away from the dreaded parent meet and greet. It wasn’t something I especially enjoyed, either, it was bloody awkward. Hi, Mr and Mrs So and So, I’m fucking your son, nice to meet you. He just watched me cut up my bacon and chew, his eyes flat. What the hell was his problem? Blow jobs and bacon were every red-blooded guy’s favourite way to spend a weekend. He should have a big ol' smile on his dial. “Oh, my God, you do,” I said, the realisation hitting me.
What. The. Fuck? Seriously, what the fucking fuck? I imagined my Dad meeting the burly Gabe, right after he pitched a fit that his daughter was doing a guy with a motorbike. And Mum, oh, my God, I found her difficult at times, she was always so prissy about everything, but bringing home biker porn guy would just about induce an aneurysm. “Gabe, I don’t even know your middle name.”