She does. For three days. The three most perfect days of my life.
eleven
We get dressedto answer the door for groceries, for a set of graduated butt-plugs that I order from LoveBox, and for an afternoon when Ty and Dakota come over to play Dutiful. We lie around naked the rest of the time, exploring each other until I know every inch of her skin as well as I know my own.
I give her my laptop so she can work when she gets stressy about taking so much time off. While she works, lying on her tummy on my rumpled bed, her little feet with their yellow-polka-dotted toenails waving in the air, I spread a towel under her and shave her legs, then lube up my fingers and play with her ass until she’s squealing and humping the towel, then work in the first butt-plug before I turn her over and eat her out.
She returns the favor a few hours later when I sit at my desk to finish up the jobs I have on the go for Manny and look for tame security gigs for Logan. She kneels between my legs and sucks me off until I crack my mouse case because I’m gripping it so hard as I come.
She works my dick around in her throat like she’d be swallowing if I didn’t insist on using a condom every time and my eyes roll back so hard my world goes dark for a full fucking minute.
I stroke her soft hair as I pull out and deal with the condom. She watches me, pouting.
“Stop, baby,” I tell her.
Sometime in the last three days, I started calling her “baby” and she started calling me “Maxie” and even though neither feels quite right, neither of us objected. I don’t want her to call me “daddy” until I’m sure I can be one for her, and although I feel like I’m taking steps in the right direction, I’m definitely not there yet. We also had the condom conversation. I haven’t been tested since I was with Julie and I let her blow me without one and I don’t want to put Cynnie at risk. Cynnie says she trusts me. Which makes me fall harder for her.
But like everything about this, I don’t completely trust myself.
Just when I’ve settled into what’s between us so deeply I’m sure she’s never going to leave me and I’m beginning to taste the heaven Logan must be living in, she gets a series of text messages that make her frown.
We’re lying on the floor in front of my couch, in a messy nest I’ve made for us out of towels and cushions and pillows and the winter blankets out of my closet, watching an anime series she’s crazy about and I don’t even try to follow. I’m too involved with where my cock is: buried in her ass and pulsing like I’ve grown a second heart. Because hell yeah we have worked up to it and now it’s my new favorite thing. Fuck gaming. Fuck food. Fuck breathing. I just want that ass.
Cynnie’s a pretty big fan, too, now that I’ve found her G-spot and figured out the motion she needs to give her squealing, squirting orgasms while I work my cock in and out of that warm, tight sheath. She’s just had one and is still sucking the remnants off my fingers when the texts come in. She’s mostly ignored her phone, except for a few of those strange, staged photos everyday. But now she reads it, frowns, and snuggles back against me with determination, which makes me groan.
“More grumbles,” she murmurs.
She loves the noises I make when I’m inside her, so I give them to her, moaning and grumbling and finally growling as I work up to another of those insane, blood-vessel exploding orgasms that brush my soul up against hers for a moment until we subside back into our own bodies.
I’m not sure if it’s her being little or the anal sex or just how utterly relaxed we’ve become with each other over the past three days, but I’ve never been asintimatewith anyone as I am with Cynnie. I don’t hide anything from her. If I’m thinking something, I tell her. If I’m feeling something, I let it show on my face. If I need to crush her to me so we anchor each other against the spinning world, like right now, I do it. She wiggles and whimpers happily until I ease out of her and flop over onto my back, panting.
Then she rolls over. “Hi.”
My hard breaths bubble into laughter. “No.”
She pouts and runs her soft fingertips through the sweat beading my breastbone. “I’z hungry.”
“Me, too. I’ll order something in a minute. What do you feel like?”
“Sex in my bottom.”
“Not a cuisine. And you must be so sore, baby. Aren’t you sore?”
“Yup,” she says, popping the “p.” “More.”
“No. My dick’s about to fall off.”
I take care of the condom and wipe us both up. Baby wipes have become my second-best friend in the last few days. Right up there with the lube Emmy recommended.
“Looks okay to me.” Cynnie says, giving it a little poke. I growl at her but she collapses into giggles which make me grinat her like an idiot. Then she pulls out her phone and snaps a picture of it.
“Hey, no,” I object, laughing. “You can take pictures when I’m standing proud but not when I’ve just gone three rounds with a meat grinder.”
She pushes her phone out of our nest and pounces on me. “My bottom’s not a meat grinder!”
We wrestle around. I’m mostly trying to tickle her to elicit those magical giggles but she’s on the attack, biting everywhere I leave exposed, scratching at me with her short nails, until I finally pin her face-down under me, with my hand in the soft cloud of her hair, scritching my fingertips over her scalp while I kiss and nip her neck and shoulder. Her ass lifts under me.
I’m hard again.
