by Kira Berger
He slowly rubs my clit before moving down and circling my opening. Teasing me seems to be something he likes to do. My hips jerk involuntarily, trying to get him to quit teasing me and give me what I need. But he keeps up the torture by alternating between rubbing my opening and my clit.
I break the kiss, breathless and so turned on I’m tempted to take matters into my own hands.
“Duncan…” I gasp. Not knowing how to ask for what I need.
Raining soft kisses along my jaw, he whispers into my ear, “I can’t wait to taste you. You’re so wet, so responsive. I’m looking forward to making you come. Take my time doing it. With my fingers, my mouth, my cock. So much so you’ll still be feeling me the next day.”
“Oh, God…” If you had asked me yesterday if dirty talk would turn me on, I’d have told you fuck no. With anyone else, it probably wouldn’t have worked either, but this was Duncan. Seems like everything he does is going to work for me.
“Fuck.” Suddenly, he draws back from me and pulls his hand out of my panties. I can’t help the sound of protest and desperation I make when his fingers leave me. My breathing is coming fast and hard, my nipples are two hard points rubbing painfully against my shirt. I’m turned on to the point of combustion. My whole body is electrified and drawn so tight I fear one stroke would shatter me.
“Wha—” Clearing my throat I try again. “What are you doing?”
The hand that was so deliciously teasing me wraps around my waist while his other hand fists in my hair, holding my head immobile.
“We can’t do this,” he tells me and my head jerks like he slapped me. Is he regretting this already? It’s been ten fucking minutes. But before I can say anything, he continues, “Not what you’re thinking, gorgeous. You’re hungover, not feeling too well; I could see it on your face when you came into the kitchen. When we do this, I want you coherent and an eager participant. Not recovering from being sick the night before.”
I deflate at this. Sure, I’m horny as fuck, but if I’m honest I’m also still feeling the repercussions from last night. My stomach chooses that moment to tell me just how unhappy it actually is, causing me to groan in discomfort.
Closing my eyes, I face-plant into his chest. “Fine.” The frustration I feel, despite what he said, is clearly noticeable in the whine of my voice.
He chuckles at my tone. “I know, babe. Trust me, I know. And if you didn’t feel like shit, I’d have you on your back by now.” He is not helping matters. Now I’m having visions of what exactly he’d do to me if I were on my back.
Stepping away from me, Duncan lets me go completely. I sway for a moment after having lost his warmth and strength.
Moving my gaze up from the floor, I can’t help but stop at his crotch. It’s visible just how much he wants me.
Fuck.
Seeing his erection, and just how big he is, makes pulling my thoughts out of the gutter a lot harder. Instead I only get more turned on by looking at him.
“Babe…” His voice barely registers; I’m too fascinated by his dick. “Alex!” he says on a growl, jolting me out of my reverie. My head jerks, and I look at him. I raise my eyebrows in a silent question. “Go grab a shower, put on some clothes… please.” The way he’s looking at me makes it obvious he quite enjoys my outfit, or lack thereof. “I’ll have breakfast ready once you’re done. You’ll feel better.”
It’s probably a good idea. Not just because a shower will make me feel more human, but also because I can take care of a certain problem he caused.
Grumbling, I hop off the counter and walk toward the bathroom. “Fine.” Just before I turn the corner, I stop and turn. There is one thing I need to clarify. “By the way, I meant what I said before we…” I gesture between us with my hand, unsure of how to say what we did without sounding like a fourteen-year-old. “You know.” Yeah, that sounded so much better. I internally roll my eyes at myself. “I am grateful for last night. Anything could have happened with me in the state I was in. I don’t usually get that drunk. Thank you for taking care of me and making sure I made it home safe and staying to make sure I was fine.”
I smile at him, letting him know just how grateful I am. I’ve heard too many horror stories on the news to not be aware of the dangers.
“You’re welcome. It was mostly my pleasure.” He winks at me. “Now get.” His smile is blinding while he says this.
Giving him a mock salute, I say, “Yes, sir,” and turn around, heading for the bathroom.
Once inside, I close the door behind me and turn on the shower to heat it up before I step inside. I take a quick peek at myself in the mirror and am unsurprised at what I see. My pupils are dilated, and I’m flushed. My breathing has calmed down, but I can still see my hard nipples straining against my shirt.
I strip off my shirt and panties before I step into the hot shower. I make quick work of washing and conditioning my hair. I even shave all the necessary places just in case he changes his mind later today.
Despite having had time to cool down, I’m still way too turned on. So, I decide to do something about it. Grabbing my shower gel that smells like cherry blossoms, I use a good amount and lather my skin. I wash my upper body, plucking my nipples when I get to my breasts. I can’t help but moan at the sensation.
In my mind, I can see Duncan standing in front of me, taking over, his hand softly brushing across my breast, his thumb caressing my puckered nipple before he replaces it with his tongue. He moves down my body slowly, kissing my skin along the way—savoring the taste. Finally, he’s kneeling in front of me, level with my pussy, and throws one leg over his shoulder.
I start rubbing my clit, but in my little fantasy it’s Duncan’s tongue causing the sensations to float through my body. Which only causes me to be more turned on. Unable to contain my cries, I’m afraid the building orgasm will shatter me. What we did in the kitchen turned me on so much it doesn’t take much for me to reach the peak. Soon, I’m hovering on the edge of blissful oblivion.
I can see it clear as day, Duncan between my thighs working frantically on my clit when his fingers suddenly push into me, caressing my walks simultaneously with licking my pussy. My own hand mimics the vision, and I shatter into a million tiny pieces. Sounds I’ve never heard myself make before tear from my throat as my orgasm floats through my body and I have to hold onto the wall for support.
The pleasure coursing through my body slowly recedes, and I start to get my bearings back. I can’t believe how much he turned me on, and how easily I came.
Exhaling a deep sigh, I finish in the shower. He was right though; I do feel better. On so many levels.
And now that I’ve admitted there is something between us, and the hot as fuck make out session, I can’t stop thinking about what it will be like to be fucked by him.
Chapter Eleven
Once I’m dressed in my most comfortable sweatpants and tank top, including a bra this time, I walk back out to the kitchen. I don’t bother doing anything with my hair but brush it. I have no plans to go anywhere today, and I’m pretty sure Duncan’s seen a lot worse last night than me with no makeup and wet hair.
As soon as I hit the kitchen, my gaze is drawn to Duncan. He’s still standing at the stove, but now with two plates loaded with eggs, bacon, and toast next to him. I’m still feeling queasy, but it’s at the stage where you know food will help you feel better instead of making you sick once you forced yourself to eat some.
I start to walk toward him, to do what I’m not sure, but his voice stops me in my tracks.
“Don’t come near me right now.” His voice sounds strained, like he’s fighting an internal battle over something. I have no clue how he knew I was moving toward him, but it’s then I notice his body is strung tight and ready to snap.
“What?”
“Go sit down before I lose control.”
This is not helping my confusion. Why is he acting this way? We were fine when I left to take a shower. “What are you talking about?”
/> Up until now, he’s had his back to me, holding onto the counter. At my question, he turns his head to look at me. The look in his eyes when his stare hits mine steals my breath and makes my knees wobble. It’s not just intense, but filled with passion, lust, and so much possession. My body involuntarily sways toward him.
“I heard you,” he whispers, his voice husky. “In the shower.” He takes in what I’m sure is shock and mortification on my face before he continues, “Yeah… You cried out my name when you came. You’re loud, babe. But I’m sure I can make you yell loud enough the neighbors will hear you next time you come.”
Oh, no. I can feel a blush covering my face from embarrassment. I can’t believe he heard me make myself come. And that I said his name! I don’t even remember doing it.
Fucking hell.
He shoots me a grin that’s downright predatory. “I wonder if this is the first time you’ve made yourself come thinking of me?” I can’t help the sharp inhale as memories flood my brain of all the other times I’ve fantasized about him. “I’m taking that as a no. Be warned though, gorgeous. You’ll pay for making me listen to you come while picturing it was me stroking your pussy. Making me listen to you groan and cry out in pleasure without being the one to give it to you. From now on, if it’s not me who’ll make you come, I get to watch you take yourself there. You hear me?”
The vivid image he evokes momentarily stuns me. I can see it clearly; me on my bed, my legs spread wide, him watching me while I rub my clit or finger myself. It’s so intense I have to fight to hold back a moan. I can’t believe all it takes is for him to speak dirty to me, and I’m wet and ready to go. I’ve never been this responsive before, ever.
“Alex. Did you hear me?” he asks softly, his muscles in his back still straining as if he physically has to hold himself back from making good on his promises right this second.
Looking him straight into his eyes, I whisper, “Yes.” It’s about all I can manage while controlling my need to jump him.
“Good.” His gaze softens, some of the intensity leaking out of them. “Now go sit down so we can eat,” he commands while his mouth transforms into a tender smile.
I turn to go sit at the table, but not without rolling my eyes. I’m not one to take orders, especially quietly without a word, even if I’m turned on like never before. And if it wouldn’t be Duncan giving me orders after turning me on so much my brain isn’t firing on all its cylinders, I’d have given the person a piece of my mind.
My coffee is still sitting on the table where I left it. It’s cold by now but I’m not going to move from my seat after his little outburst. No need to give him another chance to turn my world upside down or make me spontaneously combust.
After a moment, probably to gather his control, Duncan comes over to the table with our food and sits down across from me. He shoots me a look that clearly shows he’s not over being irked at me for… whatever it is he’s irked at me for.
Deciding to ignore his attitude, I force myself to quit fidgeting and listen to my manners ingrained in me by my mother. “Thank you, again. For the food. And you were right; I do feel better after my shower. So much better.” I can’t help but tease, I’m me after all. I’m not quiet or shy; I’m opinionated and obnoxious with not much of a filter on a good day.
I start digging into my food while he stops with his fork halfway to his mouth and glowers at me, causing me to giggle. Which is quite hard to do with a mouthful of eggs, let me tell you. But I can’t help it. I’ve decided his attitude is more adorable than irritating. “Careful, babe. You’re raking up quite the punishment by continuing to tease me.”
“Sorry, not sorry.” I grin with a shrug.
This time it’s him rolling his eyes heavenward and sighing. “You’re gonna be trouble, aren’t ya?”
I can’t quite figure out if this is a good or a bad thing. But since my parents had always lovingly told me I’ve been trouble from the day I was born, I’m not going to change that now. He’s either going to like it or walk away. Nothing I can do about it, but I’m surprised at how much thinking of him leaving because of my personality hurts—more than I’d like to admit. But I’m never going to change for someone else, never again. All it does is make you invisible. The person you used to be vanishing into thin air without you noticing, and the person they want you to be is nothing more than a ghost, someone you try to impersonate while shedding your own self until nothing is left but what they want to see. Until you’re a lost soul clinging to the one person who still recognizes you, the one connection to who you used to be, the one person who at the same time made you lose yourself.
But it’s never enough.
I’m done being a ghost. I’ve fought too hard to find myself again to lose it because of someone else. I’ve fought too hard to find my way back to the person my parents raised me to be—strong, independent, outspoken—to let anyone take that away from me again.
I made a promise after all.
“What can I say, not everyone can handle my awesomeness.” I smile. Might as well let him know what he’s getting into with me.
“Oh, I can handle you. Don’t you worry, babe. You’re all bark, no bite.” His smirk lets me know he’s over his ire from before.
This stumps me. I haven’t been around people who gave as good as they got in months, not until I moved here. I’m used to the pitiful stares, the empathy, letting me get away with pretty much everything.
Not knowing what to say to this, I decide to not say anything at all and instead continue to eat. The food is surprisingly delicious. I’m not sure why I expected him not to know how to cook. It’s not like I’m not used to men cooking better than me, both my dad and brother were amazing cooks and loved doing it. Which is probably why I have zero skills in the kitchen, I never took the time to learn since they always did it for Mom and me. But Duncan, for some reason, I couldn’t picture him in the kitchen, not until today.
I guess this is just another example of how I judged him unfairly. I’m determined to stop being so judgmental, even though I have my reasons for not being very trusting, he didn’t do anything to deserve being subjected to my issues.
At least I’m going to try to give him a chance. Until he proves to me otherwise anyway. I owe it to my family, their memory, and myself.
Looking up from my eggs, I notice him smiling. “What?” I ask in bewilderment. It’s irritating that he can read me easily while he’s still a mystery to me.
“Just surprised I rendered you speechless again is all.”
“Well…” I narrow my eyes at him, still not knowing what to say. So instead I change the subject. “So, I was thinkink—”
He interrupts me with a muttered, “Uh oh.”
Pointing my fork at him, I tell him to, “Shut it,” before I continue. “As I said, I’ve been thinking, and… do you want to spend the day with me?”
The lazy smile he shoots my way holds so much promise I hurry to continue, “Just hanging out. I don’t think I’m up for anything physical to be honest, no matter how much I might want to.” There’s no point in lying about this. “But I thought maybe we can watch a movie, get to know one another, or something… I mean if you want to. I understand if you have plans already or something…” Shit, I’m rambling again. I can’t believe how nervous he makes me. Combine that with my thoughts turning to sex every time I look at him and what you get is a rambling mess.
“I’d love to, babe.” The corners of his eyes crinkle, reassuring me. “But… Do you mind if I take a shower first?”
“Oh, shit. Of course. I mean, if you want to here, or you can come back if you prefer to go home first…”
The smile that moves across his face is beautiful, but in addition, his eyes fill with tenderness and amusement, which has me catching my breath. I can’t remember the last time someone looked at me this way.
“That’s okay. I have a change of clothes in my car out front.” At my confused look, he clarifies, “I drove you here last nigh
t, you weren’t in any state to walk, and I wasn’t going to carry you home in the dark on these streets. I’m just thankful you didn’t throw up in my car.”
I’m sure my expression is filled with horror at his comment, and I groan and cover my face. “Please, don’t remind me, ever, of last night.”
He bursts out laughing. “You’re quite adorable when embarrassed. I like the blush. But stop worrying about it, we’ve all been there at least once.”
“Ugh…” I grumble from behind my hands.
“Babe,” he calls, but I refuse to look at him. I don’t know why I’m so mortified about it. I’m sure he’s right; we’ve all been there. But the last time I got this drunk I was alone in my house, burying my grief in vodka. I didn’t have the sexiest man I’ve ever met holding my hair back while I got sick.
“Babe, it’s no big deal, trust me. Let it go, and I promise to never bring it up again.” Peeking at him through my fingers—apparently, I’ve reverted back to being a five-year-old—I gauge his earnestness. He’s still looking at me with that tender yet amused look, stealing my train of thought, but also putting me at ease. How he does this I have no idea.
It’s been a week since I’ve met him, a week of my emotions wreaking havoc within me. A week of thinking he’s an arrogant manwhore to realizing that maybe I was wrong and he’s the opposite. A week of fighting my attraction, hiding it underneath my usual attitude, being a downright bitch to him on multiple occasions, only for him to surprise the hell out of me by not running for the hills. He’s confused me, pissed me off, turned me on, but above all, he’s made me feel safe every time I was in his presence. I don’t feel like I have to be someone I’m not to please him and keep him around. And even though it’s only been a week, for some reason, he seems to accept me the way I am. All my crazy included.
I take a deep breath and make the decision to let it go, to not be embarrassed about what occurred last night. Shit happens. And while he might tease me about it, he doesn’t do it in a way that’s putting me down, making me feel like shit. It reminds me of how my brother used to tease me, not in a malicious way, but filled with love and understanding.
