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I shift, absolutely in love with the way the silky sheets feel on my skin.
Twice, both times involving Drake, is all I’ve ever experienced being in bed naked. I’ve always gone to sleep wearing clothes. I was raised that way, and it carried on in adulthood. Wasting time on needing to get dressed in the Corps meant losing valuable time that could be life or death.
He looks over his shoulder at me before pouring the water into the coffee machine, and it makes me realize I’m a little obsessed with the sleepy grin on his face. This man is dangerous, but like all sins, I can’t look past the appeal right now to understand the impending consequences.
I feel alive, more so than after any mission I’ve ever been a part of. Just the sight of him across the room, the promise of him touching me, is more thrilling than anything I’ve experienced before.
Our shower together was soft hands, exploring mouths and fingertips. After I told him I wasn’t ready to touch him in some of the ways he touched me, he never pressed the issue. It left me a little regretful because twenty minutes in, I wanted to press my fingers inside of him, but found myself incapable of instigating that after putting a stop to it beforehand.
“You’re looking creative this morning,” he says over his shoulder, pausing a second from scooping coffee grounds into the filter he just placed in the machine.
“I have a few thoughts,” I tell him, my voice filled with sleep and satisfaction.
He finishes with the coffee, turning the thing on before facing me. His thick cock points directly at me, bobbing with each step he takes as he crosses the room in my direction.
“Is this one of them?” With a not-so-gentle hand, he grips the back of my head, pressing his erection to my lips.
I open my mouth, incapable of even pretending this isn’t something I want. I’m too desperate for the man to tease and taunt him the way he so easily does me. My hand is exposed, all cards on the table when he’s close to me. I have no idea how I held out so long other than the fact that we were never alone until that night in the hallway downstairs.
I know if we weren’t interrupted, I would’ve taken the man up on his offer to come up here.
“You need this as much as I do,” he says, pulling free and running the wet tip of his cock down my cheek, giving me an opportunity to confirm or deny.
“Yes,” I pant, my mouth open, my eyes lifted to his, hoping they’re portraying the begging I don’t know that I could manage vocally.
“Absolutely perfect.” His mouth hangs open, silent awe on his face as he presses back inside the warmth of my mouth.
The scent of coffee as well as the gurgling sound of the machine filters in, but there won’t be any real need for caffeine this morning. This man has exactly what I’m needing, and I work hard for it.
“Fuck,” he grunts. “Quick study I see.”
I grin around his dick, but then sputter and pull back because losing focus means choking, apparently.
“So fucking eager,” he praises when I dive right back in after catching my breath. “The determination is hot. Will that thick cock of yours come again from sucking me off?”
The appendage in question jumps below the sheets, my hips jerking forward in need.
Either he’s a mind reader, or he’s just as needy to please me as I am to please him. He throws the sheet off my lower half, reaching for my erection a second later.
His hand is cold compared to the heat of my skin, but it’s not an unwelcome difference. I moan around him as he strokes me.
“Already leaking. Can you take me deeper?”
I do my best, and from the noise he makes as he bends forward to swipe his tongue across the tip of me, it sounds like he approves of the effort I’m putting forth.
I’m lost in the warmth of his mouth, my own not moving very much, but he seems quite content, and rather coordinated as he sucks me off and thrusts his hips forward at the same time.
My tongue is flat, enjoying the scrape of his cock on it, and I wrap my arms around his thighs, needing more of him touching me as that tingle starts low in my abdomen.
“Coming,” he says around my cock. It’s not a warning as far as I’m concerned, and I have little doubt that he’s saying it as one.
He hit the nail on the head last night, calling me a cumslut because I am desperate for this part. It’s not only the taste of him, but the satisfaction that I’m capable of bringing him to this point. His pleasure is literally my pleasure, I realize, because the second that first rope of cum hits the back of my throat, my own cock jerks with release. His orgasm sets my orgasm off, and I continue to suck him through every pulse, every spurt, as my cock mirrors the exact same.
