by Katie Allen
“I want to fuck you here,” he said, and she blinked. Again, hearing the word fuck coming out of his mouth seemed strange. She’d half expected him to refer to it as intercourse or copulation or something. The guttural word vibrated through her, tugging at invisible strings connected directly to her pussy.
When he glanced at her and started to withdraw his hand, she realized that she’d just been staring at him silently. “Okay.” Reaching behind her, she unhooked her bra and let it slip off her arms. “You can titty-fuck me while I suck on the end of your cock.”
His whole body jerked, but Leah wasn’t sure if that was because he was shocked at her words or the sight of her breasts. Either way, he didn’t seem upset. He cupped both her breasts in his hands, squeezing them firmly enough to send pleasure streaking through Leah, but not hard enough to hurt. Her nipples were so erect that she felt like they could bore holes into his palms.
Suddenly, his hands dropped to her waist and he lifted her, turning abruptly. She yelped in surprise as he set her on the counter. The stone was cold under her thighs and butt, despite the thin protection of her panties. His head lowered as he took one of her pointed nipples into his mouth, and the unexpected lift was forgotten. The only thing she could focus on was pleasure.
Grabbing at his head, she yanked him closer, holding him tight against her. In response, he sucked even more firmly. It felt like every draw of his mouth was dragging pleasure from every nerve of her body and directing it to her soaked pussy. He pulled back, her nipple popping from his lips, and she made a sound of complaint. Glancing up at her, he smiled just a little bit as he fastened his mouth around the tip of her other breast.
He moved back and forth, sucking and nipping and licking, until Leah couldn’t stand it anymore. She needed him inside her—now. Grabbing his hips, she scooted to the edge of the counter and yanked him closer, wrapping her legs around him. When she felt the barrier of his pants, she wanted to wail in frustration.
Untangling her legs from his waist, she fumbled at his pants zipper with fingers clumsy with lust and growled with frustration. “You need to be naked.” With a final hard suck of her nipple, he straightened. His hands, which had been stroking along her sides, joined hers in trying to remove his clothes.
When she realized that she was just getting in his way, Leah pulled her hands back and let him shed his clothes without her questionable help. Within just a handful of seconds he was completely naked, his clothes abandoned on the floor on top of hers, all that neatly pressed fabric in a crumpled heap. Leah was pretty sure she’d heard at least one button pop off as he’d yanked his shirt off over his head, and she loved that Hamilton seemed completely oblivious to the mess he was making of his bathroom.
She stared at him hungrily, struck with how gorgeous his body was, and knew that she’d never get tired of looking at him, not even after fifty years of nakedness. Her need for him rose again, and she pushed off the counter, landing on her feet, and shoved her panties down. Now that the last barrier between them was gone, they went still. She realized that he was focused on her as much as she was on him, and she wondered if he had the same thoughts, that he could look at her forever. A warmth spread through her, something gentler but no less appealing than the thunderous lust that raged in her body.
He wanted her now, but would that last?
Then he was kissing her again, and her thoughts of the future dissipated like smoke in a stiff wind. His hands slid down her back to cup her ass, lifting her up. She went happily, wanting to get closer to him. Her hands were everywhere—his shoulders, his head, his neck—as she wrapped her legs around his waist.
She was so caught up in the feel of him that she didn’t realize he’d carried her into the shower until the spray hit her back. Pulling away, he frowned a little.
“What?” she asked breathlessly, working hard to resist the urge to yank his mouth back to hers.
“I want to reciprocate what you did this morning.” His grip tightened as he hitched her higher, and her brain melted at the feel of his fingers digging into her ass cheeks and her pussy rubbing against his ripped abs. “The logistics are problematic, however.”
What was wrong with her that the way he spoke was such a turn-on? Shaking off her building lust enough to think, she relaxed her legs and allowed him to set her on her feet. “If we just wash up in here and then move to the bed, everything will be easier.” Tipping her head back, she soaked her hair, even while she kept an eye on his face, watching for any sign of disgust or hesitation at the thought of doing sexy things outside of the instant cleanliness of the shower. She loved getting him messy, but she didn’t want him to be uncomfortable or find what they did gross in any way.
After a moment, he gave a clipped nod and reached for the shampoo. “That sounds like the most efficient plan. Turn around so I can wash your hair. Why are you smiling?”
Obediently, she rotated so she was facing away from him. “I like the way you start sounding even more like a highly evolved cyborg when you’re turned on.”
“I don’t sound like that.” Although his words were still clipped and cold, his hands on her head were gentle, carefully working the suds into her hair. “Do I?”
“Yes, but in a good way.”
Cupping her shoulders in his hands, he turned her to face him again. He tipped her head back so the water streamed through her hair, washing away the suds. His gaze was focused a little too intently on his task as his fingers pressed back from her hairline, sweeping away any water or stray bubbles before they got into her eyes. “How can talking like a cyborg be a good thing?”
“A highly evolved cyborg.” She closed her eyes, basking in his careful handling. She’d always loved having her hair played with. It reminded her of when her grandma used to French-braid her hair before school when Leah was little. “And it is a good thing, because it’s you, and everything you do winds me up like crazy.”
When he was quiet for several moments, she opened her eyes to see him eyeing her as if she was a puzzle. When she made a questioning face, he turned his focus back to her hair, even though she was pretty sure all the shampoo was gone. “I don’t understand,” he said.
“You don’t understand what?”
Instead of answering, he turned her around yet again and smoothed in conditioner, running his fingers through her wet hair as if he wanted to treat every strand. Finally, he spoke. “You.”
“What about me?” Her eyes closed again. Having him wash and condition her hair was almost as nice as she imagined full-out sex with him would be—almost. “I’m pretty straightforward. I like baking and feeding people—including myself—and I like Annabelle and Q. And you.” She cleared her throat. For some reason, it had gotten a little raspy. “I like you quite a bit.”
His hands clenched in her hair, tugging on the strands, and the dreamy relaxed state she’d fallen into during the head massage disappeared, replaced by insistent need. Having her hair pulled was apparently one of her kinks, she was quickly realizing. “That is what I find confusing,” he said, pulling her attention back to their conversation. “Not many others have found me...likable.”
She tried to turn to look at him, but his grip on her hair stopped her. “Are you kidding? How can that be? You’re one of my favorite people.”
“I’m not complaining.” His hands were moving again, his fingers stroking through the strands in a steady rhythm. “I don’t care what people think about me—well, most people. Just James and Louis...and you.”
Her stomach warmed when he included her on that list, even as her heart broke at how short it was. “What about your parents?”
“I’m sure they love me,” he said. “But they don’t like me.”
His certainty made her insides twist with pity, and she stifled the urge to run downstairs for baked goods that she could stuff into Hamilton. Her urge to feed his feelings was bordering on the pathological. “
Why don’t you think they like you?”
“We’re very different. My dad owns an auto dealership, and my mom is a lawyer. They’re a good match. Both are extroverted salespeople—they could sell anything to anyone. No one is a stranger to them.” His fingers tightened again, bringing a responding rush of moisture to her pussy. “To me, everyone’s a stranger. I was their only child, and I...baffled them.”
She wished she could kiss him or feed him or fuck him or somehow take away all the loneliness that was hidden in his matter-of-fact tale. “Are they close by?”
“Yes.”
“Do you see them much?”
“No.”
At his flat response, she turned, and his hands slipped away from her hair. A surge of protectiveness flooded through her, buoyed by a fierce anger toward the clueless pair who didn’t appreciate their amazing son. “Well, fuck them.”
He blinked, looking a little startled by her vehemence.
“If they’re so blind they can’t see how incredible you are, how kind and intelligent and organized and talented at cookie decorating, then fuck them. It’s their loss. And I bet you a million dollars that more people like you than you think.”
His mouth quirked up. “You don’t have a million dollars.”
“A million cupcakes, then. My point is that you might not notice, but people are drawn to you.”
“You weren’t. Not until I helped you with the cookies.” He nudged her chin up so her hair was under the spray so it would rinse out the conditioner.
“Yes I was.” She smirked at him. “Why do you think I tried so hard to annoy you?”
He looked unconvinced.
“Ask any kid who knocks their crush down with a dodgeball in second grade,” she said. “It’s better to be noticed in a bad way than to be ignored.”
His smile was back, tipping the corners of his mouth up in an irresistibly happy curve. “I wasn’t very nice to you.”
Standing on tiptoe, she aimed for his smiling lips, but only managed to reach his chin. “Yet I still fed you cupcakes. You’re lucky I’m a soft touch.”
“Yes.” His eyes narrowed, heat rising again, and his fingers lightly circled her wrists. “I’m very lucky.”
Something about that light, barely there touch shackling her wrists made her need flare. “You’re about to get even luckier.”
His eyebrow quirked, forcing her to hold back a moan. That was yet another gesture of his that added fuel to the constant fire burning inside her, the one melting her insides to compliant goo whenever she was around Hamilton. Forcing herself to focus, she reached for the body wash and rubbed it between her hands, eyeing his body as lather formed between her palms.
“Just washing,” he said in a warning tone that immediately made her want to be contrary. Apparently, her desire to push his buttons hadn’t faded that much. “After this morning by the stairs, it’s your turn.”
With a soapy hand, she waved off his words. “Turn-schmurn. You can just make me come twice in a row later.”
“LeeLee...”
The growled nickname made her shiver—obviously it had become another bell for her drool to respond to—but she wasn’t about to let him cut short her fun. “Stuff it, Ham. I’ve been thinking all day about getting my hands on you, and you’re not going to rush me.”
That shut him up.
“How about this plan.” Her voice had gone throaty. “We’ll get each other...clean, then we’ll eat, and then we’ll get each other dirty, and you can give me all the turns you want. Sound good?”
She saw his throat move as he swallowed. “Yes.”
“Excellent.” If she hadn’t been so aroused, her supervillain impression would’ve made her laugh. Instead, she focused on Hamilton, on sliding her soapy hands over his shoulders, down his arms and back up again, trying not to linger. She had a specific destination in mind, and she didn’t want to be distracted before she got there.
It was hard not to be distracted, though.
“Your body is perfect.” She soaped his chest and his belly, running her fingers in the chiseled ridges and valleys that defined his torso. “You’re so dedicated. Sometimes you run almost as early as I start baking.”
“I find it difficult to sleep.” His voice hitched on the last word when her index fingertip made a detour into his belly button. “It makes it worse to try to force it, so I run instead.”
“Hmm.” She wanted to ask more questions about his insomnia, but she was finally at her goal—Hamilton’s straining, rigid erection. Her hands closed around it, but they were slippery enough to glide to the top when she made a fist—or tried to, at least. He was so thick that her fingers couldn’t reach all the way around his cock.
His breath hitched, and desire swamped Leah. She kept one hand on him and reached for her clit with the other, but Hamilton caught her straying fingers.
“No,” he said, returning her hand to his cock. “I get to do that when it’s my turn.”
A thrill ran through her at the command, and her clit throbbed in anticipation of his coming touch. She obediently fisted him with both hands, sliding one after the other from his base to his tip, drawing out a deep rumbling moan from his chest.
When he looked as if he was ready to explode, she snuck a hand down to play with his balls. This time, he almost yelled, the sound muffled by his gritted teeth, and his cock thrust up into her grip. Releasing his sac, she slipped back, searching out and finding his back entrance. After tracing a circle around the puckered hole, she pushed her fingertip a short way into his opening.
He made a strangled, wordless sound, but Leah was fairly sure it wasn’t an objection. He was so much bigger than she was, and she knew he could easily stop something he didn’t want to do, but still she hesitated, studying his face.
“This okay?” she asked, giving his cock a base-to-head stroke, as if she was physically drawing words out of him.
“I don’t know.” He sounded a little lost, and she started to withdraw her hands. “No, it’s okay. You can do whatever you want to me.”
As she stared at him, startled by his words, she knew her mouth was slightly open in surprise and eager anticipation. Her tongue wet her bottom lip. “I can do anything I want to you?”
“Yes.” A slight uncertainty was back in his expression, but she was sure that it was due to her reaction and not her finger partially wedged up his ass. “How will I know if I enjoy something if I don’t try it? If I don’t like it, then I’ll tell you to stop.”
“Good point.” She could barely speak. Lust was raging through her, demanding that she grab tight to Hamilton and do everything she’d ever wanted to do to him. Between her legs, her clit throbbed like a bass drumbeat. “You can do whatever you want with me, too.”
His eyes darkened with lust and something else, something more intense. “I will.”
“Good.” Their gazes clashed, the tension between them feeling like a physical thing. Not breaking eye contact, she slid her slippery finger in another inch, and she watched as his gaze went soft and distracted. She wasn’t sure what he was feeling, but, whatever it was, it was intense. Pulling the digit free, she added a second finger and eased them both inside him. His mouth tightened slightly.
“Okay?” she asked, sliding them deeper and curling them slightly forward.
His breath caught, and his cock jerked in her hand. “What’s that?” He sounded hoarse and his hips jerked again.
She grinned, so happy that she was the first one to inspire such incredible feelings in him. “Say hello to your prostate.”
“That’s... It’s...” His hips were really moving now, thrusting his erection into her slippery fist and back out again. The hint of panic in his expression made her start to withdraw her fingers again, but his entrance tightened, squeezing as if trying to hold them in place. “Your fingers will get dirty.” Still, his hips j
erked and his ass clutched her tightly.
“Nope.” Grinning up at him, she moved both hands in the same rhythm, withdrawing from his ass before plunging deep again while, at the same time, sliding her other hand up the length of his cock. “I’m all soapy, remember? This is probably the cleanest your insides have ever been.”
His eyes widened and his face flushed a dull brick color before his head dropped back. He came almost violently, spurting onto her wet belly and clamping his ass even more tightly around her fingers. He seemed to come forever, and she gently milked him dry, playing with his softening cock like it was a bath toy.
When his body finally relaxed, she slipped her fingers free of his ass. Hamilton gave a shuddering sigh, and his body bobbed slightly before he caught himself.
“Should we move to a bed?” she asked, reluctantly releasing his cock so she could at least attempt to catch him if his knees gave out.
“No.” Although his chest was still heaving, his eyes were losing the dazed orgasm look and he seemed steadier. “I need to clean you first. Look.” He slid a finger through the semen that still streaked her belly. “You’re filthy.”
The way he said it made her catch her breath. It wasn’t an insult. There wasn’t even a hint of disgust in his words. He sounded thrilled that she was covered in his come, that he had the chance to clean her off. It surprised her, throwing her off balance enough that all she could do was nod a little.
Focused now, he started soaping her body, following the same path she’d taken on him—shoulders, arms, chest. His hands lingered on her breasts, tweaking her nipples until they were even more erect and sensitive before moving on to her belly. Her muscles twitched under his touch as he stroked her torso, and he looked completely fascinated by the movement—in fact, he looked completely fascinated by everything she did and was.
Like her, Hamilton didn’t wait too long before going for the good stuff. He squeezed her hips, his fingers pressing into her ass cheeks, and her legs went soft. Somehow, his inexperienced hands were discovering a multitude of hot spots she didn’t even know she had. Reaching around her, he pulled her cheeks apart, running fingers from both hands over the furrow between them.