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That’s love in my book. He can trust me or not. I know everything I need to know, and I’ll stay as long he’ll have me. I’ve never felt anything like this before. He’s special. We are special. I know this deep in my marrow.
I kiss my way down his neck, taking a long draw on the already bruised flesh and making him hiss. Meanwhile, my hands are on his belt, moving slowly and deliberately, letting him know that we don’t have to do any more than make out if he doesn’t want to, but that he’s got options.
“Should we go up?” he asks.
“No,” I tell him as I slide his belt off and fling it to the kitchen floor. His fingers move to the buttons of my shirt, but I put a hand on his wrist to stop him. “Let me…”
He pants against my mouth as I undo his pants and pull out his cock, stroking it in my fist a few times before patting his hip. “Get on the counter.”
His marble island is about six feet by three feet and the only things on it are a vase of fresh flowers the maid leaves once a week, mail, and dishes that haven’t made it to the sink. In other words, it’s the perfect place to lay him down and suck his dick.
“What?” he asks, sounding dazed.
“Hop up.”
Olivier isn’t big enough to beat me in a wrestling match, but he is tall and well-built enough that I can’t gracefully manhandle him either. If he worked out with heavier weights, we’d probably be more or less the same size except for the one and a half inches of height I have on him. Long story short, I’m not lifting him up like I would a woman. He leverages himself onto the counter with his hands gripping the edge. I’m looking up at him now, and I love the view from here.
He runs a hand through my hair, studying me as I stare at him. A vague smile puts his straight dimples into his cheeks. “Why are you so good-looking?” he asks.
“Why is that a problem?”
“It’s not. I just get so angry with you about it.”
“At least I got your attention.”
“Every night,” he says softly.
That does something to my heart. Feels like a yank forward. Like he pulled a rope he’s got tied around it. I lean in and grab his face, bringing his mouth back for another long, delicious taste of it.
“Lie back for me, baby.”
He whimpers against my mouth. “What happened to Peach?”
“It was always supposed to be baby.”
“Fuck…” he breathes, rubbing his forehead against mine, like he can’t quite get a handle on what’s happening between us, because it is happening to both of us.
He would have never let me see him cry a week ago. But the second he parted his legs for me tonight, it was like we’d finally made it to the center of a maze we’ve both been on separate paths through. But we’re together now. And I have no intention of getting lost again.
It’s not a calling, but it is a purpose. I am what he needs.
I take hold of his cock again, softly kissing his chin, his jaw. “You want my mouth on you?”
“Yes.”
“Show me.”
“I don’t want to let go of you.”
“You don’t have to.”
I hold his hand as he lies down on the island, his head past the back edge. His abs flex as he strains his neck to watch me, and he moves to hold my hand in both of his until he manages to prop himself up on his elbows.
I wrap my lips around his cock. It pulses on my tongue, rigid, engorged.
“Mmm… Shit…”
My mouth likes this so much, it’s hard to remember why I hadn’t wanted to do it before. How I once considered any part of his body “too far” or off-limits. Because every aspect of it fascinates me now. I want to taste it all.
