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In response, his ring digs into my ankle and his eyes flash.
“I was only saying that so we can watch my show together.” Then, “I missed you all day in school. And now that I’m here, you’re reading your book instead of paying attention to me.” I rub my thighs together when I see a crimson flush on his features. “Please, Alaric. Watch my show with me?”
It doesn’t even have to be my show, to be honest.
I just want to feel close to him.
Then, like the guardian he is who loves to pamper me, he rasps, “Is that your final wish?”
Biting my lip, I nod. “Yes.”
His chest pushes out on a sigh and he shuts his book. “Well then, your wish is my command.”
With that, he gets up from his chair and comes to pick me up from the couch. He settles on it before settling me on his lap with my back to his massive chest and my thighs straddled and on either side of his. And then he spreads them, my thighs, by spreading his and before I can even comprehend as to what he’s doing, he switches on the TV with one hand and with the other, he goes under my purple skirt and grabs my pussy.
My legs swing and my toes curl. “Alaric, what —”
In my ear, he growls, “If I’m going to watch a show about angels and demons and leviathans and a man whose dimples you’ve mentioned in the same sentence as your panties and fucked with my head, I’m going to do it with my fingers up your cherry cunt and your ass in my lap, okay, baby?”
I moan because baby.
“And then,” he continues, his fingers going up and down the center of my pussy, “we’ll see how wet your kitty gets when I’m petting her.” At this, his thumb flicks my clit and I jump and moan again. “And how loud you purr and how hard you scratch me like the wildcat you are while you watch your favorite show.” He kisses my cheek softly. “Knowing you, you’ll be bringing down the ceiling while you make me bleed and drench my lap halfway through this episode.”
He isn’t wrong about that.
Fifteen minutes into the show, I’m moaning up a storm and dripping on him like a leaky faucet.
I’m also scratching his forearms like the wildcat I am.
And since then we’ve seen so many episodes of Supernatural with me sitting in his lap and his hand under my skirt and his fingers petting my pussy. Sometimes he pets my kitty with his dick too, and makes me keep my eyes on the TV and tell him about the plot.
But that’s neither here nor there.
What’s important is that he’ll give me anything that I want. See? A good thing.
Including letting me smoke.
Okay, before I tell this very interesting tidbit, I have to say that I’m not at all interested in smoking. And he’s not at all interested in letting me smoke either. So it’s not a regular thing.
But one night after he fucks me and we’re in the bath — he draws me a bath every time and then proceeds to soap me up and shampoo my hair, running his beautiful strong fingers through my strands and untangling them — he’s smoking.
Which he does sometimes.
He smokes after sex and every time he does, I watch him.
So this night as well, with my head resting on his strong wet chest and my face turned upside down, I watch him grip the thick brown stick of his cigar with all his fingers, rather than pinching it between two. I watch him take a drag and lift his face before exhaling and sending a thick cloud of smoke up to the ceiling.
“Alaric?”
At my whisper, he lowers his face and looks at me with hooded, drowsy eyes and rumbles, “Poe.”
“Can I smoke?”
He studies my blue eyes, my upturned face and kissing my forehead sweetly, he rasps, “Absolutely fucking not.”
“Well, you’re smoking.”
“I know.”
“Why is it that you get to smoke and I don’t?”
“Let’s see,” he begins, a light frown appearing between his brows as he sets his cigar down on the ashtray by the side of the tub, “because you’re a girl and I’m a boy. And boys can do whatever the fuck they want but girls can’t.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You did not just say that.”
“And you did not just ask me to hand over my cancer stick to you.” I go to protest but he speaks. “So shut the fuck up, Poe.”
I purse my lips and take my head off his chest and look forward, miffed. “That was mean.”
“Never said I wasn’t.”
I think about it and then, “You could feed it to me, you know?”
I go back to looking up at him, upside down.
My words have caught his attention and he’s staring at me with his hooded eyes again.
