A Day of Absolutely Nothing
Iwoke up to a warm, long figure twined around my back, damp breath rushing over my shoulder. Dust caught in rays of sunlight glittered in front of my nose, and someone—presumably Cork—had opened the curtains to let the morning shine onto the bed, but she'd been more respectful of my sleep this time. Probably for Jonathon's sake rather than mine.
My body was heavy and a little achy, especially my thighs, and I wasn't sure if it was due to the use of Jonathon's electrical device or my enthusiastic riding of Mr. Tanner's cock. Both perhaps, I thought, my smile curling. I had fresh bites—nibbles really—on each breast from Auguste, and my sex was tender although not sore. I'd been well used the night before, but well cared for too, and the thought spread a smile over my lips.
I rolled, and Jonathon followed the momentum, turning onto his back, sunlight streaming over the freckles on his throat and chest, a lithe arm draped over his eyes. His mouth was slack, soft sighs puffing out in sleep, and I grinned at the slight tent of the sheet over his lap. It was time to return some of the care I'd enjoyed the night before.
I ducked beneath the sheet, wiggling carefully deeper onto the bed, eyeing the stand of the doctor's cock, rosy and nestled in darker copper curls, a glimpse of a dusky sac below. His legs were splayed just enough for me to climb over one and kneel between them. I waited for him to stir as I settled. Either he was a deep sleeper, or he was happy to let me have my way.
I ran a fingertip up from the base to the tip of his cock, watching it grow a little, darken and twitch, the head peeking out. He puffed in sleep, and his legs shifted, but there was no other sign of waking as I teased his arousal slowly and playfully, scooting closer and letting my hair caress his pale thighs as I ducked my head. I took just the swollen tip of him between my lips and suckled, running my tongue up and down the seam, and then flattening it under until he let out a sleepy moan. His hips bucked, and I took him in hand, giving him something to fuck as I licked every inch of his staff until the motion was smooth.
"Oh!" A caught breath, a whine, and then a low groan. "Fuck, Esther."
Ah, now he was awake. I wrapped my lips around my teeth and sucked Jonathon's cock down as far as I could, humming as he started to rut.
"Fuck! Christ, you wicked little thing, come here!"
Two hands tossed the sheet back and then caught me by my armpits, hauling me off my morning treat. I thought at first he was angry, his face flushed and eyes fierce, but then he threw me back into the mattress, climbing immediately atop me. Tight hands caught my wrists, pinning them to the pillows, and Jonathon's knees urgently shoved my own aside.
"Mr. Tanner is sleeping," Jonathon gasped. "Or giving me a fucking chance. I'm not wasting a second of it."
I opened my mouth—who said sucking cock was a waste—but all that came out was a strangled shout as Jonathon thrust himself inside of me with one desperate snap of his hips. I was sensitive from the night before, but Jonathon was an easy fit compared to Mr. Tanner's cock and I always woke up as wet as men woke up hard.
Jonathon released one wrist to wrap an arm around my waist, hauling me against him as he bucked and plunged and nailed me to the bed with his wild fucking.
"Oh god, Esther, forgive me," he rasped, without stopping.
I clutched at his back, finally catching my breath and able to meet him in his thrusts. "Don't stop, Jon, please!"
He groaned, bristled cheek rubbing against mine, and then found my mouth with his, tongue staking the same claim of me his cock did. We moaned, stroking and rubbing and riding one another, but his pace slowed as he kissed me, growing languid and tender.
"Not going to waste, and not going to rush," he said on a gasp, nose stroking against mine, eyes so fully blue as I rarely saw them.
He was rumpled from sleep, rosy-cheeked, and even with the sun catching in the gray of his hair, he looked so young. I wrapped myself around him, his hand on my wrist sliding up for our fingers to tangle together.
This was nice. No, nice was when a lad had the sense to hunt for your clit a little to make sure it felt decent for you too, as he went about his business of getting off.
This was lovely. And sweet. Jonathon rose onto his knees, finding a new angle that sapped me of strength and sanity, and I cried out his name in thanks. Our chests were growing sticky with sweat, breaths never quite catching.
"Esther, I-I—“ Jonathon groaned and dove down, teeth dragging over my bottom lip and hips starting to snap again. His fingers on my back dug in, and I reached my own up into his hair, tangling and pulling there until he gasped and gave me air again. "You have us now," he breathed out, gaze grabbing mine, a thread of green around his pupils. "Tanner and I. I—Fuuuck…"
My eyes grew swollen with tears, plain words unspoken between us, and I pressed my face into his throat, voice breathless.
"Yes, you're mine." My fingers tightened, and Jonathon let out a ragged groan, our bodies clapping together. If no one else had the sense to claim these men, then I would be the lucky fool who held on tight and never let go. It was too soon to say more, but in another month, after more strange and exciting nights and decadently tender mornings…
I whimpered as Jonathon pulled away slightly, but then his hand was reaching between us, finding my clit without a moment's hesitation and manipulating it with pinches and circles until my thighs were a vice around his hips, holding him to me as I arched and shuddered, pleasure bubbling up into emotion, the two blending together to choke my voice and then leave me limp. Jonathon wrapped both arms around me then, pinning me to the bed as he rocked inside of me and sucked a mark on my shoulder with hungry kisses until his patience collapsed into one quick and trembling release.
He was heavy, but not uncomfortably so, and neither of us released the other, arms and legs indelibly tangled in the bed, faces turning slowly to nuzzle and share breath. Auguste had begun my lessons on this art of connection, and Jonathon was strengthening my understanding even further. I wanted this every morning. I wanted him and Auguste, who was locked away somewhere.
My eyes opened to find Jonathon's, little crinkles in the corners from his smile.
"Good morning, Miss Reed," he said, perfectly polite.
I snorted and he grinned. "Good afternoon, I think, Dr. Underwood."
Jonathon hummed and glanced at the window, squinting against the light. "You might be right. Give me ten minutes more of this, and I'll order us lunch in bed." He rolled, but he took me with him, drawing me onto his chest. "I think we ought to do our best to do absolutely nothing today, don't you?"
"Absolutely nothing sounds lovely," I agreed, tracing a little pattern on the freckles of his chest.
Jonathon hummed, chest rising and falling quickly after the bout of lovemaking. It slowed under my touch as the minutes ticked by, and I grinned as I lifted my head to find him asleep again, every bit as innocent as he had been before I'd woken him. I pulled away slowly, hunting the room for my robe.
I would order us lunch myself, and then see if I could wake him for something else delicious—food or otherwise.
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