Page 30 of Keeping Mr. Sweet

“That’s what you said then too.”

“You have me.”

I turn around and lean against the counter, feel the tug of his hand still tight in my hair. The surface is cold against my ass cheek, but Sam radiates warmth that keeps the chill at bay. “That too. And you were looking at me like you are now. Like you meant it. Like you wanted me more than anything else on the whole damn planet.”

“I did.” His voice is husky. “Still do.”

I grip the edge of the counter with one hand and press the other against his left pec. I can feel his heart beating under my palm. Being with him, being his had been such a simple thing. I’d wanted him forever, for as far back as I’d been old enough to understand what that felt like. And on my eighteenth birthday he finally looked at me the way I’d always hoped he would. That day, for the first time, he wanted me too. There was no denying it, no pretense, no idea that I would hurt him no matter how much I loved him. That knowledge came later.

He engulfs my hand with his and tilts my head back by my hair. “We didn’t make it out of the kitchen. I took you right there on the floor amidst the scattered flour and sprinkles.”

“They were stuck to my ass, melted right onto my skin by the time you helped me back on my feet. You brushed them off, staring at me the whole time.”

“You were beautiful and sexy and important,” he says. “Far more important than I had ever given you credit for.”

“I wasn’t alone anymore.”

“You never were.” He grazes my lips ever so lightly. It’s the barest of kisses. The most chaste touch he can manage, but the tenderness could crack my heart right down the middle. It’s almost an unbearable moment, squeezing the air from my lungs and moisture from my eyes until I can’t stand it.

Sliding off the edge of the counter, I drop to the floor in front of him. He’s not prepared for it and his grip on my hair brings tears to my eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his eyes widening and then darkening as he takes in the picture of me on my knees before him, his bulge right in front of my face.

“I need you to use me.” A gush of heat fills me, making my mouth water and my pussy throb. I lick my parched lips as I reach for his fly.

“Ash.” He grits his teeth around the word as though the need that fills the air between us causes him pain. “Get up off your knees.”

“No,” I whisper, my fingers working at the metal teeth.

“No?” He growls at my boldness. “Do you have any idea how short my tether is right now? You want me to tear up your mouth with my cock?”

I want him to raze my body with pleasure until I’m a filthy mess. I want to feel him everywhere. “Will you fuck me?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head.

I drop my gaze to the floor. It’s not as if I don’t deserve his reluctance, but I hoped he might want me as much as I want him. I held out for it with baited breath, and now it’s hard to breathe.

“Hey.” He lifts my chin, his fingers caressing my cheek. “It’s not that I don’t want to. You know that I do, but I want to be certain first. Certain you’re mine, Ash, before I fuck you. I need to know this isn’t going to be just one more fuck and then you’re gone. I need to know I can get lost in you and it won’t ruin me. You wound me, you know. Every time you go. I don’t think I could survive it again.”

This strangled noise vomits from my mouth, this half gasp-sob-mewl that I can’t hide no matter how hard I press the back of my hand to my trembling lips. In one sentence he breaks me completely. He offers me everything and he reminds of what I can never have all at the same time. I want a future with him so badly, but at what cost?

“Ash?” He’s staring into my eyes as though he’s looking into my soul and seeing his destruction blazing there in my pupils, and it hurts so fucking much that I always fail him. I can barely keep my knees on the floor and my heart in my chest. Once, my only reaction would have been to run as far and as fast as possible from the fear of the pain I could cause. Now I want to dive into his arms and make promises I’m not sure I can keep.

I tackle his pants like my life depends on it, yanking at the material to get it down his thighs. He’s rock solid in his boxer briefs, and I welcome the distraction from my wayward thoughts.

“Ash—”

“Please,” I beg while I drag his boxer briefs down to join his pants. His erection springs free, bobbing in front of my mouth. “Let me have this.”

“I won’t be gentle,” he says. “I won’t take it easy on you. Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” I say fervently, reaching up and wrapping my fist around his girth. We’ve always been good together. Perfect. At least sexually. I want to remind him of how good we can be. Maybe it’s not enough yet, but I need him to know that I’m his. I stroke his length, squeezing around the head, my thumb finding the hollow in his crown and wicking the pre-cum from it.

“This mouth is mine, isn’t it?” His lids droop heavily over his eyes as he touches my lips with the pads of his fingers. “Mine to use however I need.”

“Yes.”

“And your hand?”

---