My stomach flutters. Which is ridiculous. He does this every day. I spend the night all the time. He always fixes my matcha latte before he does anything else.
It doesn’t normally fill my stomach with butterflies.
Only, right now, nothing is normal.
He’s…
We…
I…
Forest looks back to me with a smile.
My heart melts.
It’s such a beautiful smile. It lights up his eyes, softens his brow, erases the tension in his shoulders.
It makes me warm all over.
“If you look at me like that, I’m going to have to take you again.” He turns to the fridge. Fills a mug with almond milk. Slides it into the microwave.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re picturing me naked.”
Mmm… not a bad idea. “You’re not wearing a shirt.”
“And that?” He turns and motions to my dress.
“What about it?”
“The skirt is begging for my hands.”
“Oh?” I tug my skirt up my thighs. An inch. Then two.
His eyes go straight to my exposed skin. His tongue slides over his lips. “Do that again, and I’m going to fuck you so hard you see stars.”
“I don’t have a problem with that.”
His eyes move over my body slowly. Stop on mine. “Yeah?”
I nod. “Can you?”
“Can I?”
I clear my throat.
He raises a brow.
I motion to his crotch. “Can you go again so fast?”
His laugh is big. Hearty. He has to hold on to the counter to steady himself.
“It’s a fair question.”
“It is.”
“So why are you—” My cheeks flush. “Why are you laughing at me?”
“It’s not”—he struggles to get the words out—”that.”
I clear my throat.
“It’s just—” The steam of the kettle interrupts him. He shakes his head. Sucks a breath through his nose. “You’re so matter-of-fact.”
“And?”
“You’re usually so sure of yourself.”
“Are you laughing because you can’t?”
“See.” He straightens himself. “That’s the Skye I know.”
“The Skye you know insults your dick?”
“Is there something wrong with taking a while to rebound?”
“Well…” I’m not sure, exactly. I don’t have a ton of experience in the dick department. “No.”
“Then it’s not an insult.”
“And you?”
His smile widens.
“You are laughing at me.”
“No.” He taps keep warm on the kettle, crosses the room, wraps his arms around me. “I love that you’re asking about my dick.”
“Oh.” He slides his hands down my hips, over my ass. “He loves it too.” He pulls my body into his, so I can feel his hard-on.
Fuck, it’s hot. But I have to stay strong here. “He’s a he?”
“Yeah.”
“Does he have a name?”
“No.” He laughs.
“He’s personified, but he doesn’t have a name?”
“Yeah… he’s the one in control, not me.”
“Oh?” I slide my arm around his neck. “You let your dick lead you around?”
“No, but he tries.”
“Like…”
“You.” He digs his fingers into my ass, pressing my dress into my bare skin. “He makes a lot of demands for your tits.”
“Oh?” I raise a brow.
He nods hell yeah. “And your lips.”
My cheeks flush.
“He’s way into your dark lipstick.”
“Go on…”
“Princess, if I go on I’m going to take you right here.”
“Where’s the problem?”
His smile widens. “I need to feed you first.”
“That’s really not necessary.”
“The matcha?”
“Even that.”
He slides his hand over my ass, down my thighs, all the way to my bare skin. “You’d rather fuck me than drink matcha?”
“Of course.”
He beams with pride. Motions to the table. “Sit down. I’m making you breakfast.”
“But—”
“What did I tell you yesterday about needing your strength?”
Uh…
“Was I right?”
“Well…”
He laughs. “We got cockblocked, yeah. But I’ve got the whole morning free today.”
“All morning?”
He nods. Takes a step backward. “Trust me. You’ll need the energy.”
I trust him… but I’m fine waiting for the energy. Sure, matcha lattes are the greatest beverage in the world.
But can that really compare to his lips or his hands or his cock?
I’d much rather have him in my mouth.
Ahem.
He spins on his heels, grabs the matcha tin from the fridge, starts fixing it.
God, there’s something about watching his shoulders tense and relax.
It’s just… beautiful.
It really is.
I need to touch him.
I need to rip his clothes off.
I need to… uh…
No. Fuck anything else.
I really do need to rip his clothes off.
I give him enough time to whisk the matcha, pour it in the heated almond milk, stir.
It gives me time to add another coat of lipstick.
Then I unzip my dress and pull it over my head.
I back up to the couch. Grab a pillow. Place it exactly where I need it.
“See—” he turns to me. Drops his jaw. “Fuck, Skye—”
“Come here.”
“I—”
“You said later. It’s later.”
He gives me a long, slow once-over. “You’d rather—”
“Suck you off? Yeah.” I reach around my back. Unhook my bra. Slide it off my shoulders.
His eyes go wide. “Skye—”
“Come here.”
“Your—”
“Or you’re going to make me think you don’t want it.”
“Fuck no.” He sets the mug on the counter. Takes three steps toward me. “But you have to know something, princess.”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve been dreaming about your mouth for ages.”
My sex clenches.
“About watching those pretty red lips stretch over my cock.”
I stare into his eyes.