Page 33 of Milk & Cookie

Vince grips my ass and jiggles it with and approving grunt. “You look fucking perfect to me, Angel.”

My cheeks grow even warmer. “I need to go, before you make me want to stay even more.”

“I should clean you up a little first,” he says, sliding his hand up and down my slick inner thighs. “And if you think riding your bike is a good idea, I definitely won’t stop you. But I don’t think you’ve thought this plan through.” He glides his hand up, to cup my swollen pussy, and adds a bit of pressure as he rubs his cum into me some more, awakening every tender nerve. Cycling home will surely be agony.

I grip his arm and dig my nails into his skin with a pained moan. He lightens his touch instantly, sending a whisper of pleasure through my core.

“Color me convinced.” I keep hold of him and ease myself away from his touch before he makes me lose track of time again. “Is the truck outside yours? It’s electric, I noticed. Zero-emission transport is very sexy, Vincent Monaghan.”

He grins and gives me a kiss before heading into the ensuite bathroom. “Am I allowed to come in when I drop you off?” he asks, as he turns on the shower. “See the girls’ paintings? And show them mine?”

I follow him into the bathroom and turn off the shower. “I was going to make an exception for you the other day, but I always shower at home after the gym. If I don’t turn up sweaty, Mom will know I fucked you.”

“And that’s… bad?” He frowns.

“It will be, for you. You’re much bigger and older than I am, and you’re absolutely the wrong gender to gain her approval — and that’s before we factor in the fact you’ve fucked me full of cum within only a few days of knowing me, when she expressly told me not to rush into anything. You didn’t know that, so that part is on me, but my point is, we need her to like you.”

“We do.” He looks me over. “You’re walking like I fucked you,” he says. He hunts through the mirror cabinet and hands me some Tylenol.

I barely look at the label before passing it back. “I don’t usually take this kind of medicine.”

Vince searches my face. “I don’t think Daryl has the right herbs for anything better, Fred. Is it safe to chew willow bark when you’re breastfeeding? He has a tree out back, but I don’t want Ravee to get any ill effects — especially if she was feeling out of sorts a few days ago. If she had a virus, the salicylic acid could lead to Reye’s syndrome, with the brain swelling and liver damage… It’s the reason kids shouldn’t have aspirin when?—”

I press my palm to his chest, and he stops talking, but he’s still breathing like he’s in a panic.

“You really are the most adorable man I’ve ever met. I’m impressed enough that you remembered Raven was under the weather earlier, but… How do you even know all that?”

He shrugs. “One of my sisters is a nurse, my family has a ton of kids, I read a lot, and my friend Ben — Ben.” He drops his gaze to my curls and clears his throat. “Ben makes a balm he uses for… post-coital inflammation,” he says in a strange tone. “That’s what will help. All natural. Highly effective. I’ll get my hands on some before I see you again. Do you have any allergies or sensitivities? I just… I don’t want you to be in any pain.” He rubs his arm and looks away. “I don’t like that it’s a side effect of being with me.”

I curl my fingers into his chest hair, and he returns his gaze to mine when I give a light tug. “I’m a little sensitive after a big, hairy mountain of a man fucked me with his beautiful, massive cock, but I’m not allergic to that, or anything else. It doesn’t hurt in a bad way, Vince. I like feeling where you’ve been.”

He swallows visibly. “I like knowing that,” he says softly. “May I wash you without a shower? I’ll be gentle.”

What might that feel like?

I release him, pull myself up to sit on the counter next to the sink, and spread my legs.

True to his word, his touch is mindful, and his technique is steady, systematic, and thorough. He cares for me perfectly, until I’m pampered and patted dry, but he’s much less attentive to his own needs.

He gives his genitals a quick scrub and roughly towels them dry. He yanks on a pair of jeans, but he carefully helps me into my dress, and then my coat, as if I’m some delicate waif.

“You should treat yourself better,” I say as he puts my bike in the back of his huge truck.

“I treat myself fine.” He sounds surprised by my statement.

“Not as well as you treat me,” I point out.

He brushes off the comment. “You’re more important. You’ll be the mother of my children.”

My heart sings with the dream he describes, and I can only hope his seed is already planted, but it doesn’t change what I said. “And you’ll be their father, Vince.” I let that sit with him a moment, because his expression suggests he has never thought to prioritize himself. “If you want this to happen, you need to act like it. You can’t promise to be there for them, and then not be, because you didn’t look after yourself. That isn’t how trust is built, and we all need to trust you, so make sure you’re taken care of, too.”

He stares at me a moment, and then nods.

“I’ll help,” I assure him, with a smile.

He opens his passenger door for me and helps me inside. “I’d like that.”

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