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When he broke the kiss, I opened my mouth in protest, and he slid his thumb between my lips, gazing down at me. Then he straddled me and cupped my jaw, expression tender and hot just before he breached my lips with his dick. My eyes fluttered shut, and I let myself feel every inch of him. He was already leaking, so turned on from going down on me that I knew it wouldn’t take him long. I let my hands fall open on his thighs, so it was just him, controlling the thrusts, and me, lying there naked, letting him. Peace washed over me.
He thrust gently at first, moaning as I curled my tongue along his length. After a minute, though, I squeezed his thigh in encouragement and opened my eyes.
“More?”
I nodded immediately, and Rhys cupped my jaw gently, then thrust deep, cock sliding into my throat. His breath stuttered as I choked a little, then I let my eyes drift shut again and adjusted the angle of my neck. I loved this, loved the feeling that Rhys could do anything to me and I could take it, loved the way it felt to put myself in his hands, for his pleasure. This was what I’d missed the most.
“Oh fuck, babe,” he groaned, thighs shaking. On his next thrust, I swallowed around him, then the next and the next, and then he froze, shooting down my throat with a helpless gasp.
My throat was raw and scratchy, and I pushed up on my elbows to swallow after Rhys pulled out. Then Rhys was kissing me, cradling my head, and pulling me into his arms, then to my feet. I slid my underwear back on as Rhys buttoned up his jeans, and then we leaned into each other again.
“I’m gonna just grab some clothes,” I said. Rhys’s eyes sparked again at the roughness in my voice, and he followed me up the stairs. I tugged on sweats and a T-shirt, and Rhys shrugged and stripped down, exchanging his clothes for his own sweats and a tank top. With his powerful arms, the expanse of his chest, and the flat plane of his stomach on display I almost said fuck it to baked mac and cheese and pushed Rhys down on the bed. But his stomach gave a growl.
I sat him at the kitchen table, wishing I had some candles or something, noticing how stark the light looked. We didn’t usually eat in here.
“Happy late birthday,” I said. His smile was radiant. “Oh wait, I forgot.” I went into the dark living room where I’d put the flowers the night before and grabbed them. Back in the kitchen, I held them out to Rhys.
Rhys took the flowers with a soft look in his eyes and kissed my mouth. “Thanks, baby.” I knew he remembered. Knew he would understand that I was saying he was worth everything too, even if the flowers he’d bought me were beautiful and these were a supermarket special.
I dished up the mac and cheese, making Rhys stay seated since this was supposed to be his birthday.
I had the strangest feeling, like I’d missed a step and was waiting for a jolt. His sudden presence in the house again was overwhelming. Probably I just needed to settle into it again.
“I can’t believe you cooked real food,” Rhys said and took a bite. The look on his face was so tender that it tugged my mouth into a smile. That was better. It was always better with Rhys looking at me.
I took a few bites of my food before I remembered to pay attention to how it tasted. Over the years, I’d gotten so used to just eating without noticing what I was eating, since the food was often bad—just calories in and energy out.
When I tuned back in, though, I realized that something was very wrong with this food, even though I could swear I’d followed Mona’s instructions to the letter. It tasted like I’d dumped a bucket of salt in it.
“Fuck,” I muttered and dropped my fork, gagging once the taste registered.
“Aw, babe, it’s not bad,” Rhys said and took another bite. “Just a little salty. And I love that you thought to make it for me, Matty, seriously.”
“Don’t eat that shit, Rhys,” I said. I snatched the bowl away from him and dumped the food into the trash.
“Hey, come on. I wanted that,” Rhys said. I shook my head. I was not letting Rhys eat something that tasted like a fucking salt lick. I scraped the entire contents of the casserole dish into the trash.
I tried to laugh at myself, but my throat felt tight and my fingers were slippery with cheese sauce, the casserole dish sliding out of my grip. Rhys grabbed it before it could fall into the trash, and deposited it in the sink. I stared at the mess in the garbage, and the garish supermarket flowers.
