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“Oh, yes,” I whimpered, nearly crying tears of joy, “harder, please.”
Pushing in a little further, to help with the leverage, he picked up speed, his pelvis slapping softly against my ass. It was as hard as he’d ever fucked me before, though I still got the feeling he was holding back on me. Something that only endeared him to me even more, putting my comfort and joy ahead of his urges.
Though considering how much he came every time, not to mention how hard he got, often before his pants came off, I got the impression he enjoyed our sexy sessions as much as I did.
It was an oversight. An honest mistake really. We both got so caught up in the moment that neither of us particularly noticed when he was about to unleash his mighty torrent. Usually, he would have gotten it into my mouth, letting me taste his sweetness. There wasn’t really time for that though, there were really only three options for his load to go. In my pussy, up my ass or on my back. Being the sweetheart he was, Ragnar chose the path of least harm.
I’d never felt cum on my back before. It was new if not entirely unpleasant. A bit sticky, but also since and warm. Without a word, Ragnar went to get a warm, damp towel and wiped me down.
“Sorry about that.”
“No problem at all,” I assured him, blushing.
Truthfully, a nagging voice in the back of my head had been screaming at me since the first time, wondering why I’d never stopped him and demanded he put on a condom. And yeah, it was probably stupid, but it all came down to that innate feeling of trust. I felt safe with him.
“Good,” he said, kissing the back of my neck, “Are you hungry?”
As far as after sex questions went, it was on the odd side. Though I couldn’t say I wasn’t hungry, so it was also surprisingly appropriate.
“Yes,” I said, still wrestling with the slight oddness.
I didn’t know if it was metal heads in general, or just a fluke with Ragnar that let him ask about food right after cleaning the cum off my back. Maybe it was just a guy thing, food and sex.
Helping me back into my borrowed outfit, Ragnar zipped up his jeans and strolled into the kitchen, like he hadn’t just fucked me six ways form doomsday. I had a bit more trouble with the walking but managed to make it in anyway. The most wonderful tingle still sparked in my pussy, even long after his withdrawal.
Ragnar really knew his way around a kitchen. Not too surprising, considering it was his kitchen, but I grew up with the sort of old school guys, my dad and granddad particularly, who would have needed a recipe to boil an egg.
Ragnar seemed to have no such issue, moving with the controlled grace one would expect from an experienced drummer. For a second, I was convinced I could hear a beat as he cooked.
“Do you like fish?”
“Sure,” I said, certain whatever he made would be amazing.
The cod sizzled in the bed of melted butter, making my mouth start to water, and that was before he started adding the spices. For a second, I wondered I maybe he’d gone out and caught it himself. Seattle was a port city after all, but it didn’t seem likely, unless he had a fishing boat secreted somewhere. Either way, he sure knew how to cook it.
“Old family recipe?” I asked, as he set the plate before me.
“Yes, actually. Passed down through my father’s side. Drink?”
“Sure, what have you got?”
“Water, juice, diet soda, some leftover mead.”
“Mead? Like actual, drink of the gods, mythological mead?”
“Not mythological, but the other ones,” he chuckled, “I usually only drink on special occasions and never when I’m on the job.”
“Very wise.”
“It’s hard to play well smashed, just ask Varg.”
“Varg?”
“Our guitarist. He thinks it makes him play better. Stig, he’s the bassist, and I actually had to record him once and play it back before he would believe us. He still drinks when possible, just not to the point of losing his coordination. I think it might partly be stage fright.
“Dutch courage?” I asked.
“Exactly. He’d never admit it and would probably clock me if I ever even suggested it. Thinks he has an image to uphold.
“Don’t we all?
Stuffed with fish and mead, feeling on top of the world, Ragnar put the dishes in the sink, before coming up behind me. Putting his hands on my shoulder.
“Ready for bed?”
My heart swelled. I’d been hoping he’d ask me to stay. “Absolutely.”
My gentle giant lifted me from the chair and held me close. I half expected him to start rocking me to sleep. Instead, he headed for what I assumed was the bedroom, as I pressed my face to his chest, breathing in his scent.
