Page 37 of Unruly
My cock explodes in my grasp and I have to bite my lip to keep from screaming as pleasure racks my body. I’ve never experienced such intensity, and now I know why mortals are obsessed with the. If it feels this good alone, what would it be like with another person?
Hot, sticky liquid coats my fingers as I fuck into my hand until I’m shivering and too sensitive to take another stroke. I lie spent on the couch, breathing hard, half-naked and very messy, but what a revelation.
A smile tugs at my lips as a lone tear escapes my eye and slides down my cheek. I did that. I’m too drained to be embarrassed or to rush to clean up. I just want to feel this way a little longer.
My eyelids grow heavy for the first time in decades, the allure of sleep quickly dragging me under. I should clean up, but I can’t be arsed to get up and actually do it, so I wipe my hand on the t-shirt and give in to the sweet pleasure of deep rest.
Chapter 10
Borja
Ishuffle out to the living room, scratching the back of my neck, and glance over at the couch with my still blurry eyes. That was a heavy sleep, like nothing I’ve experienced before.
Standing behind the couch, I look down at Farnsworth, surprised at what I see. He’s sprawled out, with one leg hanging over the edge and the blanket tangled around the other, revealing the smooth flesh of his thighs. His face is serene, free of any creases or expression, and I realize how young he looks. I wonder how old he was when his life changed forever.
I finish the journey to my destination, the kitchen, seeking the comfort of hot, caffeinated liquid. While I putz around preparing the coffee machine, my thoughts drift back to last night. Seeing Farnsworth loosen up, even just a little, was pretty amazing. I was so close to kissing him before I remembered what we are to each other. That wasn’t a date. It was blowing off steam and nothing else.
That didn’t stop me from jerking off before I gave in to sleep, all the while imagining Farnsworth instead of my own hand. Pretty high creep factor. I guess I need to get laid if I’m having thoughts like that about a guy who’s technically my boss, not remotely my normal type, and as restrained as they get.
I lean against the counter, laughing internally at myself. Granted, it’s been a long time since I hooked up with someone, but I’ve been busy. There’s also been a lack of quality choices. That’s why I’m lusting after a guy who doesn’t fit my vibe at all. I go for men who are outgoing, free-spirited, artistic types like myself. They understand me more than the buttoned-up corporate types. Or the lawyer I dated who acted appalled that I didn’t have a trust set up for my meager belongings.
The coffee finishes brewing and I pour myself a cup and fill one for Farnsworth. I don’t know if he’ll want it, but it’s only polite to offer. When I step out of the kitchen, he’s sitting up and staring straight ahead.
“Morning,” I say softly so as not to startle him.
He turns abruptly, his expression shifting from panic to relief in a second. “Borja.”
“You okay?”
Farnsworth nods. “Yes. I was a bit disoriented. It’s been centuries since I’ve slept so deeply. I was surprised being in a place that wasn’t my own home.”
“Gotcha. I made some coffee if you’d like some.”
He reaches out for the mug, then holds it close to his mouth, inhaling the scent. “It smells lovely.”
“It’s a local blend. Kind of pricey, but it’s one of the few luxuries I allow myself.”
“Luxuries can make life more tolerable.”
I sit next to him and watch him take a tiny sip of the hot liquid. I sip mine too, my head full of questions.
“What kind of luxuries did you enjoy when you were living in the Above?”
His eyes lose focus as he thinks about it. “Fresh pears. They were so lovely.”
“Pears?”
“Yes. They weren’t easy to come by back then, so getting one was a nice treat.”
“Interesting. Anything else?”
“We had a governess who was a very good cook, and she got hold of some of my mother’s family recipes and set out to recreate them. My mother cooked before she was ill, so it was nice to have her recipes again. They weren’t exactly the same, but they were good.”
“Did your mother recover?”
Farnsworth sips his coffee for a moment before shaking his head. “She did not. She died of a fever.”
“I’m so sorry.”
