This was mainly because as soon as I put the plate down, Byron was behind me, using the whole of his body to pin me against the counter. One of his arms folded across my belly, the other went up to yank my hair until my ear was near his mouth. "I don't do games, Prue."
"I'm not playing games, Byron," I snapped back, wincing at the smarting in my scalp until I felt his other arm move downward and cup my sex.
"Then explain the shit with Matt."
"There was no shit with Matt. I wanted..." I shut my mouth tight, having almost admitted something I knew was dangerous to.
"You wanted what?"
I swallowed hard, closing my eyes tight as if it would make the admission any less embarrassing. "I wanted someone to talk to."
"About?"
"Anything. I was..." I started, feeling his fingers curl and hit my clit.
"You were what?"
"Lonely," I admitted, feeling another layer get sliced off of me.
Byron paused for a second. "Are you lonely now?"
"No," I said, exhaling hard as my hips moved against his palm.
He didn't say anything in response, just released my hair and my sex and both hands moved to the waistband of my jeans, making short work of the button and zip then yanking them and my panties roughly down my legs. "Step out," he demanded, taking a step back. I kicked out of the legs and turned because he had moved back several feet. "Shirt and bra too," he instructed as he reached into his pocket for his wallet.
"Byron, I..." I started, shaking my head a little.
"Shirt and bra," he said more firmly as his hands went to his button and his zip then reached inside to pull his cock out and slip on a condom. "Now, Prue."
My sex clenched hard, reminding me once again that my body was a traitor that my mind wasn't strong enough to fight. I moved to pull my shirt off and reached behind me for my clasps, watching him as he walked toward me. Except, that wasn't quite right. He stalked toward me, stopping when our feet touched, then sliding his hand down my side until he snagged my knee, grabbing it, and hauling it up, giving himself access to the very core of me. His other hand grabbed his cock and moved it to stroke up and down my almost embarrassingly slick cleft.
"Byron, I..." I started, shaking my head a little, not sure what I was about to say. Apologize? For what? Technically I hadn't done anything wrong.
"No," he said, eyes on me. "You wanted someone to talk to, you did. Now I am going to demand you keep that pretty mouth of yours shut."
"What..."
"I mean that I am going to fuck you, right here in this kitchen. Right here in this very spot. And if you so much as gasp, I am not going to let you come. Got me?"
Not so much as gasp?
How the hell was I supposed to pull that off?
With him, I had been embarrassingly loud, uninhibited, practically wanton. And he wanted me to be silent?
"You want my cock, babe, those are the rules this time."
"But what..."
"No buts. I'm going to fuck you and you're going to be silent. Got me?" he asked, the head of his cock hitting my clit and making me let out a small whimper.
I was pretty sure I wasn't going to be allowed to come.
But then his cock slid down my slit and pressed inside me, filling me to the hilt. My mouth opened as he stretched me; his brow raised as a reminder to be silent. I didn't doubt for a minute he would follow through on his threat. I exhaled slowly, trying to focus through the clawing need inside me, making me rock against him as he stilled inside me.
"I asked if you got me?"
I nodded my head.
And then he was fucking me. Hard, each thrust shifting my body upward several inches as he filled me completely, eyes intent on my face. I sucked in air greedily to try to distract myself from moaning as his cock continued its relentless torture, driving me up fast, knowing exactly what he was doing to me.
My hands curled hard into his biceps as his hand urged my leg around his waist before releasing it and settling it on the side of my neck. His other hand slid down between us, pressing into my clit as his thrusts got more frantic, more demanding.
At the contact, I sucked in air hard, so hard that it was audible, almost a gasp.
"Careful," he warned, fingers digging into my neck a little. "That was close."
With that, I drew in another shaky breath, leaning forward and burying my face in his neck, pressing my lips hard against his skin to muffle any sounds, my arms going tight, almost crushing, around his neck. His free arm traveled down my back, grabbing my ass, then slapping it hard, making my fingers dig into his neck to keep from crying out. As if sensing the battle, his hand pulled back, swung out, and landed harder. Then again, even harder. Until I was biting my lip hard, my entire body taut as a bow trying to keep silent.