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“You like working with Otis?” I ask, stirring the heated cannellini beans into the cooked quinoa.
“I do. Actually, that’s the weird thing I’m still getting used to. There’s not a single person at Crave I don’t like. I mean…” she pauses, and I can almost guess what she’s going to say. It’s a common theme. “Lance can be a bit of a cold fish sometimes but… I still like him.”
I think of Aug and how no one at Crave knows my story but him, and that’s because he’s kept his word. He’s not shared without my consent, and so I pay him the same respect, despite the fact that I wholeheartedly trust Scarlett. My trust for her has nothing to do with his personal life, so I choose my words carefully. “Lance is great, but he’s working through a complex situation in his personal life. That would make anyone edgy, I imagine.”
There’s silence, so I turn and look at her as I drop pieces of sliced chicken into the bowls. “You imagine?” She rises from the barstool and saunters toward me, looping her arms around my waist. Looking down at her, all blonde hair and hard nipples, wide eyes and toothy smile, I question if I can keep my word tonight. I want to be inside of her so bad, but I can’t get what she said earlier out of my head. “Cohen, you’ve been going through something complex, too.”
“Yeah,” I admit. “Lance is great, though, I know that for certain.” I slide her the bowl. “Hungry?”
Her eyes dip to my cock, with the subtlety of a steam roller. “Famished.”
I didn’t know when I bought the small dining set that I’d be so glad I had it, but as I take a seat at the table and Scarlett stands over me, unzipping my jeans, I’m thanking God.
She smiles when she finds me hard and eager, my cock coming willingly through the open fly hole. “I need your precum for lube,” she says, dropping to her knees between my spread ones. “May I?” she asks, blinking at me for permission. Permission for what, I don’t know, but I nod my head yes without a second thought.
“I’d suck your balls if you were naked, but since you’re fully dressed—which, by the way, is super hot—I’ll get it a different way.”
Never did I think I’d be sitting at my dining room table being milked for my precum, but she had me jacking off into the sink so I shouldn’t be surprised. Using the pointed tip of her tongue, she gently laps at the underside of my cock, over and over. It’s ticklish at first, but quickly becomes intoxicating and dizzying.
And it works well.
I groan at the sight of clear liquid bubbling up on my cockhead, curving down my head, slipping down my shaft. Scarlett stacks her fists on my shaft and pumps, giving me a sweet little smile. “I’m so wet just thinking of how full you make me, I didn’t need the precum. I just wanted a reason to lick your cock.”
Fuck. I close my eyes, suck a long breath in through my nose, and push it out through my lips. My cock is still pulsing, precum unstoppable at this point, so I take one more deep breath before opening my eyes.
She’s released my dick and is standing now, positioning our bowls of dinner at the table. She gets us two glasses of water, and then, it’s time.
I’m excited. I’m fucking very excited in fact. I could fucking hammer nails with my cock right now. But I’m also nervous.
The more I’m with her, the harder I fall. I’ve been falling for a while now, the rabbit hole getting deeper and deeper. I don’t think I’ll ever find the bottom. But being inside her, knowing she wants what I want—to be at Crave, to have more, and to be a parent—it changes things, intensifies them.
Naked, she comes to one side of me, and slowly lowers herself into my lap, aligning my swollen and angry head at her slick, tight hole. Her arm loops my neck and her other hand braces the tabletop as she sinks down on me.
I groan like a goddamn porn star when her wet cunt tightens around me. She sinks down further, moving slower and more seductively, and my balls ache and thrum, pressure building low in my gut. Then she’s sitting, my head sweeping her g-spot, spongy and ripe, just begging for me to prod as I fuck her.
But not now.
Instead, I reach out and clutch the fork, staring into a piece of grilled chicken. Collecting a bite, I bring it to her lips and become tantalized by the slow opening of her mouth, the pouty curve of her lips as she moans around the delicious bite.
“I’m glad you like it, but please, Scar, baby, don’t moan like that.” My cock throbs inside of her, begging to rip the cord and release, flooding her with so much cum that her thighs will be sticky for a week.
But no.
She swallows the bite, I take one, then serve her another. After she chews and swallows, she asks for a drink of water. The condensation on the glass cools my palm as I raise it to her lips. They curl around the end, and her swallow has me thinking of when she swallowed my load, and I don’t even know if I can give her a drink of water tonight.
“I’m thirsty, Cohen,” she says, and like that, I give her another drink, bringing it to her lips again, tipping it back. She adjusts herself just slightly in my lap, and I scoop another bite of food to divert my brain. Then I feel it.
Her fingertips sweeping over the place where we’re joined. Her fingers touching her clit, then my cock, right where I disappear inside of her.
“Scar—” I warn, “I want to give you this, I want you to have the intimacy. But you’re not ready for more, and I’m… I need to come. Your pussy is so tight, and I need you.”
“You need me?” she breathes, leaning into the fork to steal the loaded bite. Sweat beads on my upper lip and my flannel shirt seems like a really fucking stupid choice right now.
I nod. “I need you.”
She smiles. “I need another drink.”
My hand is practically shaking as my cock throbs between her walls, but I bring the glass to her lips and tip it. Water slips from her mouth, gliding in smooth beads down the curve of her throat, over her collarbone, rolling down her breast.
