Page 123 of Rare Blend
A familiar tightening blooms inside of me, spreading a welcomed heat. I’m steps from the free fall.
“I’m close,” he says hoarsely, giving my pussy a light slap and then rubbing my clit. He continues this pattern while simultaneously fucking me relentlessly, and soon I’m right there with him, falling over the edge. My head whips back, my vision edging out into a bright light, and my body convulsing as the orgasm rings out of me, twisting and turning until the wave evens out.
We stay intertwined, our chests rising and falling together. When I start to wiggle out from under him, he puts his arm out to stop me.
“I really do have to go.” I giggle, trying to move past him.
“No cleaning up.”
“What?” I’m confused by his devious grin.
He moves his hand to cup me, using his fingers to shove back in his cum that’s now leaking out of me. “If you’re going to have breakfast with Cole fucking Benton, then you’re going to do it with my cum dripping down your thighs, covered in my smell.”
I’m sorry, what in the fuck did he just say? “How very mark your territoryof you. Want to pee on me, too, while you’re at it?”
I like his domineering side, in the right moment, but this? Absolutely not. It’s a little too caveman for me. A trickle of doubt starts to manifest like a red flag waving at me for attention.
“Peeing isn’t one of my kinks. Not judging anyone who’s into it, though.” He shrugs, a smile still playing on his lips as if he’s not acting like a territorial asshole.
“This isn’t funny.”
My tone must be enough to clue him in, because that smile falls real quick.
“You know, at some point, you’re going to have to trust me. Do you not trust me to go have a work breakfast? Because Cole knows we’re together.”
“Of course I trust you.” His voice is pitched, high, defensive.
I get up, shoving his arm out of my way. “Yeah, sure feels like it.”
“Marisa—”
“Don’t. I’m already late. We’ll talk about this when I get back.”
Cum is pooling in my panties, so wet it feels like I’m sitting in my own pee, making it extremely difficult to keep a straight face while Cole goes on and on about his organic practices. In all my anger at Ethan’s ridiculous demand, I did, in fact, not clean up, just like he wanted.
“Wouldn’t you agree?” Cole asks.
I missed whatever he was talking about. “I’m sorry. My coffee still hasn’t kicked in. What was it you were saying?”
He smiles easily, completely unaffected. “I was saying that it’s our responsibility as the next generation to move forward with more sustainable methods.”
“Yep, I agree. That’s very commendable of you.”
He takes a bite of toast, assessing me with curiosity.
“What?” I ask, feeling self-conscious.
“You seem distracted. Is everything okay? We can do this another time.”
“I really am so sorry. This is very unprofessional of me. I’m tired, long night,” I lie.
“Want to talk about it?” He leans forward, looking at me expectantly.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” I give him my best customer service smile, hoping he’ll drop it. “Everything is fine.”
“Ahh, I get it.” He takes another bite of toast, nodding to himself.
“What do you get?” My skin prickles with unease. He’s too observant and I don’t like it. He’s the one being interviewed, not me. Not to mention he refused to meet me at Benton Winery or theHerald. I love a good diner, but it blurs the lines of professionalism to conduct an interview over a meal.
