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I’d already noticed that he ordered less food when it was my turn to get dinner, so when he’d passed my phone back after adding his pasta to the order, I’d tacked on some garlic bread for him. But it seemed like the fettuccine alfredo may have actually beaten him, because he didn’t even go for the garlic bread after setting down his empty container.
“You cannot be full yet,” I said. “Unless you secretly ate some snacks on your way home from the store earlier.”
He refused to look at me, appearing very engrossed in the TV. I burst out laughing, leaning to the side until my shoulder rested against his arm.
“Wait, is it because you didn’t smoke before dinner?” I asked. “Why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t know if the smoke would make you feel ill when you were already feeling shitty.”
I softened, briefly resting my head on his shoulder. “You’re sweet.”
“Nngh,” he mumbled, fingers fiddling restlessly with the blanket over his lap. “How was your gross salad?”
I laughed. “Really good. Want to try a bit?”
He side-eyed me. “No, thank you.”
“Aww, come on.” After setting my bowl down on the coffee table, I fished out the last piece of lettuce, soggy from having sat at the bottom in a puddle of dressing. “Will you try one piece of lettuce?”
“Don’t you dare come near me with that thing, Beryl.”
“Sure you don’t wanna try it?” I held it up in front of him. He tried to bat the dangling piece of lettuce out of my hand, which made me laugh and bring it closer again while making a spooky ghost noise.
“I’m not scared of it!” he griped, wriggling away. “It’s just gross!”
Of course I wasn’t actually going to force him to eat it, but he was laughing as he tried to squirm away from me, so I kept pretending, loving how little wrinkles would appear on the shallow bridge of his flat nose as it scrunched up with his laughter.
“Beryl!” He was gasping for breath between laughs, trying to dislodge all the blankets so he could get away. I wasn’t even holding the piece of lettuce anymore, having no idea where it was, but neither of us seemed to care.
Greid ended up flat on his back along the length of the couch as I sat on one of his thighs to keep his legs from flailing. Cackling, I grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the armrest either side of his head.
“Ha!” I grinned down at him in triumph, then blinked. “Oh shit, where’s the lettuce?”
Greid let out a last gurgle of laughter, his chest heaving, then tried to move one of his wrists and finally seemed to realise I had him pinned. His breath caught, wide eyes darting up to mine. Something in that look made me go still. It was like I could see the sudden shift in his mood.
And then he kind of… melted. He went totally lax beneath me, eyes growing hooded and lips parting around his shallow breaths. Shallow, excited breaths, I realised, noticing his dilated pupils and the way his face spikes were flexing languidly around his hairline.
His long fingers twitched on either side of his head, but he made absolutely no attempt to break his wrists free from my hold, even though he could have overpowered me easily. Laughably easily.
But he didn’t. He lay there in total submission. Not moving. Just waiting to see what I would do.
Arousal throbbed through me, chasing away the last of the fading cramps in my womb. And before I fully knew what I was doing, I lunged down and crushed my mouth to his.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Beryl
Greid froze, before letting out a plaintive moan and kissing me back with desperation. My belly lurched with pleasure, especially when his thigh flexed between my legs and pressed briefly against my pussy.
Oh god. I moaned into his mouth, arousal rushing over me in a wave. But I needed more. More pressure. Releasing his wrists, I frantically hitched up my stupid onesie and clambered up to straddle his waist, still kissing him feverishly, unable to stop.
Our lips parted, tongues meeting in a rush. Greid’s breath hitched, hands finally lifting from the armrest to tangle through my hair, long fingers clutching the strands tight. I pressed my hips down, and both of us moaned when my pussy came into contact with something big—really big—and hard through layers of fabric.
Greid made a garbled sound into my mouth when I rocked my hips. I forced myself to go still, breaking the kiss to stare down at him, already panting.
“Do you want to stop?” I asked hoarsely.
“No,” he breathed straight away. “Please.”
