Mine
Page 22
“I know,” I said, reaching for him, putting my hand on his cheek. “I got pizza. Go wash your face, wake up a little, and come out and eat.”
“I don’t wanna eat,” he said with a sigh, staring at me, at my mouth.
“Yeah, but you need to, come on.” I got off the bed and started for the door.
“You always think you know what’s best.”
“’Cause I do,” I assured him.
He grunted, but he did as I told him.
I had set the table and put a piece of pizza on each plate and poured some Chianti because he liked it. As I moved around the kitchen, I heard him behind me. Turning, I saw immediately that the slumberous look in his eyes had been replaced by something purely predatory.
“I like those brown jeans,” he told me.
“Thanks.” I smiled at him. “What’re you doing?”
He was standing there, leaning against the counter, just watching me.
“Just admiring my stuff,” he replied casually; the mischievous grin was very sexy.
“So I’m your stuff, am I?”
“Yessir.”
“Come sit down.” I chuckled because God, he was cute, and if I didn’t know that he had to be hurting from all the bumps and bruises and scrapes, I would have attacked him.
I was turning off the light over the sink when he walked up behind me and put his hands on my hips.
“You need to eat,” I breathed out.
“Oh, you took that breath.”
“I did not.” I swallowed hard, trying to get myself under control. He had been taken from me and I wanted to feel that he was well and whole, and if I could bury myself in him, hear him cry out my name, I’d know he was as okay as he said he was. Without the physical joining, I wasn’t sure.
“You did,” he insisted, hands sliding up under my T-shirt as I closed my eyes against the onslaught of desire that swept through me. I would not attack my boy; he was too fragile.
“God, Trev, I love the feel of your skin, warm and silky under my hands,” he whispered, “and I love it when you shiver.”
“Lan,” I rasped.
“Yes, love?” he asked as he tugged the T-shirt up over my head, balled it up, and tossed it onto the counter.
“It’s late,” I said without much conviction. “You’re exhausted, and you need to eat.”
He kissed down the side of my neck to my shoulder, then back to my ear, nibbling the lobe as he popped the top button of my jeans and moved to the zipper. “We can eat later.”
My head fell forward as I leaned over the sink. “Jesus, how does this happen so fast?”
“What’s that?”
“You just put your hands on me… it’s amazing.”
“Is it?” he teased me.
“Landry,” I said, trembling under his touch.
He slid his hand under the waistband of my briefs and down around me, drawing my hard, already leaking cock out so he could stroke me gently, firmly, as he kissed between my shoulder blades. “Maybe you like me a little.”
“Landry,” I moaned, pushing in and out of his hand, loving the feel of his fingers, the tug, the slide.
“Take these off,” he asked, pushing on my jeans.
I followed directions, shucking them off, kicking them away from me.
“Spread your legs.”
I heard the snap of the bottle right before cold, slick gel slid between my cheeks. He had brought it with him, intent on this seduction. I moaned as I felt the hand pushing me down, and I leaned farther forward, widening my stance to give him what he wanted and what I suddenly craved.
His finger breached me, sliding easily, and I moaned loudly as he touched my gland.
“You don’t get to always say what I need,” he told me, his breath in my ear, hot and wet. “I know what I need, Trev, and I need to show you that I’m okay. I need to feel you around me, holding me… I need you.”
I gasped as he added a second finger, pushing, stroking, scissoring even as his left hand fisted around my cock.
“God, your ass is so beautiful,” he told me, and I felt his cock rub over my crease. “Tell me it’s mine.”
“Yours,” I managed to get out, lifting up even as I felt the head slide between my cheeks.
“Oh God.” The husky moan was torn from his throat as he pushed into me. He instantly gave up stroking my shaft, instead grabbing hold of my hips and pulling out only to drive back in deeper and harder, the pain exquisite with the sharp edge of pleasure before the heat spread and became a throbbing heartbeat of want.
I tried to lift up, but his hand shoved me back down, and I knew from the grunts that accompanied the thrusts, the groans that followed the retreat, that he was watching his dick slide in and out of my ass.
“Is it good?” I asked, so close to coming, teetering on the edge of it as I milked my cock, rougher with my body than Landry ever was.
“Oh fuck yeah,” he growled, clasping my left ass cheek hard, his nails digging into my skin before he abandoned his hold on my right hip and grabbed the other cheek, pushing them roughly apart. “You’re so tight, Trev, you should see your hole suck me in. God, I’m gonna come just looking at you.”
I felt my balls tighten, and I knew I would give anything if he could just not stop what he was doing. I pushed back into him, bracing my hands on the edge of the sink, letting my head drop down between my arms.
The sound that came from him was like a cry and a moan and like crowing all together, my submission totally doing it for him. He pounded into me, harder, deeper, and I lost myself as I came, splattering the cabinets and the floor as I called his name.
“Oh fuck, Trevan,” he hissed out, my muscles—I knew because I could feel it—fisting around him tight, clasping hard, my orgasm making me want to hold him still as my release sent chills through my body.
He bucked forward, jolting me as I shuddered with aftershocks. When he suddenly froze, I felt him come, pumping me full of hot, thick liquid until it was running down the insides of my thighs.
“Trevan,” he said, collapsing over me, giving me his weight, knowing I could hold us both up.
It took long minutes before the shuddering stopped, before I could lift up, before he eased out of my body and I sagged forward against the counter.
“Baby,” he whispered, and I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder.
Straightening up, I turned to him and he lunged, his arms going around my neck as he clung to me, his face pressed into my throat.
I hugged him tight, petting his hair, my other hand locked around his back.
“I didn’t hurt you.”
“You never hurt me,” I assured him.
“I used to.”
“But not in so long.”
“You promise?”
I nodded.
“I just wanted you to see that I’m okay. You know that now.”
I did.
“And I needed you.”
“I hope you always will.”
“Jesus, Trev—” He took a halting breath. “Of course I will. You’re the one. You’re the one who’s not fucked up. You’re the one who’s gotta keep loving me and never stop.”
“I’ll never stop. I promise.”
He nodded fast and we separated, just staring at each other.
“You’re covered in cum,” he said.
“You’re all sweaty.” I grinned.
“We should take a shower.”
“The pizza’s cold already.”
“It’s okay, baby.” He sighed, taking my hand, tugging me after him, leading me out of the kitchen. “That’s what the microwave is for. It’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked. “Everything? You’re so sure?”
“I’m sure. As long as I’m looking at you, I’m sure.”
And really, I was exactly the same.
About the Author
MARY CALMES currently lives in Honolulu, Hawaii, with her husband and two children and hopes to eventually m
ove off the rock to a place where her children can experience fall and even winter. She graduated from the University of the Pacific (ironic) in Stockton, California, with a bachelor's degree in English literature. Due to the fact that it is English lit and not English grammar, do not ask her to point out a clause for you, as it will so not happen. She loves writing, becoming immersed in the process, and falling into the work. She can even tell you what her characters smell like. She also buys way too many books on Amazon.
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