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It feels like I’m vibrating as I walk the last few steps to my front door. It’s only been six days since I saw Kipp in person—since he kissed me goodbye—but it feels like a lifetime ago. My trip put more than just physical distance between us, and I’m anxious to rectify that.
It’s quiet as I slip my key in the lock and push open the door. “Kipp?” I call lightly.
He appears from down the hall, coming into the living area slowly. “Um, hey.”
Christ, he looks nervous, like he’s waiting for a blow. It damn near breaks my heart that I’m the cause of that. “Hey,” I say softly, stepping toward him.
“Welcome home,” he says, flashing me a smile that misses the mark.
“Kipp,” I say gently, stopping in front of him. I slide my hands up into his hair, and his eyes feather closed before snapping open again.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” he says quickly. “It wasn’t my place to pry, and I owe you an apology for that. I forget, sometimes, that we’re not actually…” He waves his hand in the scant few inches between us. “You know.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” I tell him again. “I’m not mad, sweetheart.”
His lips purse, like he doesn’t quite understand. “Wait, what?”
“I’m not mad,” I repeat. “And I handled that conversation poorly. I’m sorry.”
His face goes through a complicated roll of emotions. “Well, I don’t know what to do with that,” he all but huffs, reminding me of a disgruntled kitten. I refrain from telling him so, fairly certain it wouldn’t be appreciated right now.
“Did you want me to be angry with you?” I ask, stepping closer. Close enough to feel the heat of him at my front.
“Well, no,” he says. “I just…expected it.”
God.
“Kipp, I don’t think I’m capable of true anger when it comes to you. You’re quite possibly the sweetest man I know, and all I could think about these past few days was coming home to you. I wanted to hold you and kiss you and be with you again. I couldn’t stop missing you.”
“Really?” he asks hopefully.
“Really.”
“I mean, it’s kind of ridiculous, though, isn’t it? It wasn’t even a full week,” he says, lips inching closer to mine. “I shouldn’t want you this much.”
My heart beats fast, fingers still caught in Kipp’s hair.
“It doesn’t make sense,” he mumbles, blue eyes meeting mine before dropping to my lips.
“Sweetheart,” I breathe.
Kipp doesn’t reply. He just crashes his mouth into mine.
He moans into the kiss, as if he can’t help it, his lips pillow-soft and sweet and feeling like home. It’s such a relief, having this man at my fingertips, tasting his desire on my tongue, that I don’t hold back. I let him taste every ounce of my returned desire for him, tightening my hands in his hair, holding him in my grasp as I take and take and take. He goes pliant under the onslaught, the tension draining from his body as the two of us stumble through the room toward the couch. Kipp hits it first, his ass landing on the back of the sectional, his hand traveling down to cup my hardening cock.
I have just enough sense to pull back before things get too heated. “Kipp, wait.”
“What?” he groans, pulling me back in, nipping at my lip and rubbing me through my jeans. “Want you.”
“I know, but fuck, hold on,” I manage to get out, forcing a few inches between us. “We need to talk. About us.”
He makes a disapproving sound, his lips shiny and red, hair disheveled and eyes swinging between my own. “We talked already. You said you missed me, and I missed you. God, how I missed you. Isn’t that enough? I don’t want to talk anymore, Teddy. I want you to spank me and fuck me and own me. I want you to keep me. Is that too much to ask?”
My pulse hammers, my mouth opening in shock.
“What do I need to do?” Kipp nearly whines. “Need me to repeat my safeword? Bananas. Now fucking wreck me, please. I need it.”
He reaches for me again, but I grab his hand. “Kipp.”
