By Monday I felt like my old self, which was fortunate as Rowan had to return to work by Wednesday. He’d worked half days on Monday and Tuesday and popped into the office for meetings, but could do the bulk of the accounting from my couch on the laptop. Whenever he had to go to the office, the spark in his eyes died and his face became a blank mask. I recognized bracing oneself for facing a thing you hated, but I didn’t confront him about it. He’d been willing to relocate for the entire summer to keep his job, so there must be something about it he loved.
On Tuesday morning, I woke up sprawled on top of Rowan with my cheek on his pec. I wiped my drool off his hairy chest in hopes he wouldn’t notice but he was already looking at me with sleepy eyes.
He was gorgeous with dishevelled hair and a small smile on his face. The sight was so private, so intimate, I felt I shouldn’t be seeing him like this.
“Slept well?” he asked.
“Very.” I wasn’t sure whether I should thank the concussion or Rowan, but I hadn’t woken up from a nightmare since the accident. The first time Rowan had stayed over, I’d been afraid I’d be kicking and screaming through the night, but nope. I slept like a baby. “I’ll make coffee,” I said.
“But—”
I rolled off him, stood up, and put on baby-blue fluffy socks. “I’m fine now. Even Dr. Frances said so.” Seeing Rowan worried, I’d asked him to take me for a checkup on Monday, and I’d been cleared for work, but I had to note any headaches or unusual pain.
“And you’re feeling okay?”
“Oh yeah. Look, everything is in the right place.” I lifted my T-shirt to flash him my ass and giggled all the way to the bathroom.
“Tease!” He joined me to brush his teeth too.
His hand travelled lazily up and down my back like it had always belonged there, as if Rowan was supposed to be a part of the domestic picture we’d painted over a mere few days.
I rinsed. “Not if you finally cave.” I winked at him over my shoulder and ventured to the kitchen. Rowan had been adamant to abstain from any sexual activities. Yup, the man robbed us of daily blow jobs to help my head heal. Insane.
I prepared two mugs, one I got on a trip to Niagara Falls with my parents and another from the Grand Canyon I went to see with Ethel and Anabelle when I was fourteen. The fine China cups that Anabelle liked remained in the cabinet, used only for special occasions, the way she would use them.
“Why do you have a commercial coffee machine at home?” Rowan kissed the nape of my neck, then behind my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.
“So I could experiment with coffees and new flavors here before introducing them to staff and regulars for tasting.” I leaned back into him as the tssss of the foam of his coffee sounded.
Rowan sent his hands wandering up my shirt and over my belly. “Can I blow you?” The whispered words set fire to my groin.
“Now you’re talking.”
He chuckled low and brushed a finger between my butt cheeks. “Can I eat your gorgeous ass?”
I released a shuddered breath and arched to his touch. “Yes.”
He lifted my T-shirt over my head and tossed it aside, then traced kisses from my nape and down my spine. Tingling pain pinched my ass, and I looked over my shoulder.
Rowan bit into my cheek and was now sucking on it.
“You’ll leave a mark,” I said.
“I know. I want love bites to be the only marks on you.” He touched the air above the green and purple bruises on my ribs. “Not those.”
I mumbled something incoherent and closed my eyes.
Rowan held my cheeks open, the fingers of his big hands digging into my flesh. Wet warmth at my crease. A low growl echoing in the kitchen.
Rowan traced my hole with his tongue as if he was trying to lick icing off a donut—precise, greedy, and punctuated with moans.
I rested my cheek on the cool countertop and submitted to Rowan’s touch. My thighs trembled from the intensity of his focus on my ass. He ate me out as if it were his last time, or as if I were about to take it away from him. I’d never experienced that level of ass-eating skill before, to the point I was afraid I’d come untouched. My cock, hard and ready, dripped pre-cum on the kitchen tiles.
Rowan’s lapping turned into sucking.
Usually his kisses were heaven, but whatever he was doing to my ass was next level. He wiggled his tongue past the ring of muscle and fucked me with it like he was digging for gold.
The moans I let out would be embarrassing if I had any inch of shame left in me.
