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What am I going to do about it? Well, rather than wasting more time with taunts or teasing, I yank her back down off the counter, and she yelps in surprise when the heels of her boots hit the floor with a sharp clatter. Even in heels, she barely reaches my chin, so it’s not hard to put my hands on her shoulders and push her to her knees in front of me.
Etta looks up at me from her kitchen floor.
“You’re taking your life in your hands, Montague. Or rather, your future children’s lives. I could get very vindictive down here, you know.”
I smirk down at her. “Don’t you mean our children?”
She blanches, looking like she swallowed a hot pepper whole. “Uh—”
I probably would have let her avoid this particular type of “practice,” despite the fact that I’d have every right to argue it’s necessary, but if she’s going to be a brat…
I run one hand over the top of her head and down her cheek, tipping her chin up. Her expression is defiant, but she doesn’t try to stand up and leave, and makes no effort to shove me away as I use my other hand to unzip my fly. I pull my jeans down just enough for my cock to spring free. Gripping myself with one hand, I drag the head of my cock over her lips. “Suck.”
As if waking from a trace, Etta’s gray eyes go wide and her mouth parts on a gasp.
My back straightens when her breath feathers over my pulsing dick, the anticipation of what she’s going to do close to driving me out of my mind.
And then, her tongue darts out to taste me. She wraps her lips around my cock, her hand coming up to cover what she can’t fit into her mouth, and as the head hits the back of her throat and I bite back a groan, I realize my error. If I thought for a moment I was controlling Etta by asking her to do this, I was entirely wrong—she holds all the power here.
My hand finds her hair and I’m mesmerized, watching her head bob up and down. “Fuck, Etta, you need to stop.”
She needs to stop because I want to come in her, not down her throat,
She keeps going, and panic mingles with pleasure as my balls begin to go tight.
I yank hard on her hair, pulling her up. She’s smirking, knowing she’s won this round. “What’s wrong? I thought we were practicing?”
Yeah, she knows what’s wrong. She can’t pull that shit during the ceremony.
Spinning her around, I crowd myself against her back, pressing her against the edge of the marble. “Are you trying to drive me insane?”
“Maybe,” she says.
I take that as a yes. She’s doing an excellent job of it. I’ve been halfway insane for years, and being this close to her is making it so, so much worse.
I press my cock harder into the curve of her ass, grinding against her and leaving no doubt for either of us what I’m intending to do to her. “Bend over and put your hands flat on the counter,” I tell her, as I step back and flip up her maroon, pleated skirt.
I’m shocked when this time she doesn’t protest, immediately pressing her hands flat, spreading her legs wider, and curving her back to press her ass higher into the air. My eyes widen, and I press my fist into my mouth to stifle a groan, because,fuck.I can’t believe I finally have her like this, laid out before me, ready, and waiting, andmine.
I reach down and run a hand over the curve of her ass, as I’ve wanted to do so many times before. I can see the evidence of how wet she is for me and my cock twitches against my jeans in response.
I bend and press kisses to her hair, her neck and the shell of her ear. “Have you been this wet all afternoon?”
She gasps, arching into me. “Touch me.”
I smack her ass, hard, and she yelps. “That’s not the answer to my question. Try again.”
“Yes,” she says quickly. “I can’t take this. I need more.”
I’m tempted to keep torturing her, given how difficult she’s been, but honestly I can’t take it anymore either.
I cup Etta between her thighs with the other, running my fingers over her until she’s squirming against me. My thumb finds her clit as my fingers stroke over her entrance. I wince as she moans, and grip myself tighter. Just knowing that soon I’ll be inside her is enough to nearly send me over the edge.
Except, even as part of me is dying to slide inside her, another part is saying it shouldn’t be like this.
Fuck, I sound like a fifteen year old virgin, wanting to lay out rose petals and make our first time special. That’s not exactly it—as much as I care about Etta, I’ll also never be that kind of person. I’ll never be able to be not an asshole the majority of the time, or turn into the kind of guy who likes roses. But I also know I don’t want the first time I fuck Etta to be over her parents kitchen counter. Maybe—definitely—a different time, once I’ve claimed her as mine for real and she’s accepted that there’s more than an agreement and inconvenient lust between us. But not the first time.
I want to take my time with it, have her all night, every way and as much as I want, and this isn’t going to work.
