It still felt like the middle of the night when Mike whispered, “Baby,” in her ear, his palm sliding from her breast to her belly.
He hugged her close. Gave her a kiss on the shoulder. Inhaled deeply at her neck. In a dream-like state, his loving felt as easy and sweet as a heavy blanket. She wasn’t awake enough to think of morning breath, or the way her pillow left red lines in her skin, or to worry about the musk of sex coating her from head to toe. Sometimes she knew he left the house with the scent of everything they’d done the night before on his hands and face, and blushed pink, grew wet, thinking about it. He said it made him calm when he had to deal with idiots.
His hand lowered, and her legs parted on instinct when his warm palm cupped her pussy. She was sensitive, swollen, slick with him and her mixed together. He dipped a finger in like taking a dollop of frosting off of a cupcake, then brought it up to her mouth. “Open.”
She opened her mouth. Accepted the finger. Licked and sucked like it was a sweet treat she loved, the rich erotic aroma of their coupling filled up her head like a drug—waking her just enough to make her want again.
Katie was always hungry for this man. Would take him however she could get him. Ready to accept anything he wanted, because everything ended up making her life feel incandescently beautiful. She never wanted to miss a single opportunity to be claimed by him.
He added another finger. Pressed both of them deep, toward the back of her throat, insistent. It was just on the edge of too much before he said, “Get them wet.”
She nodded and tried to obey. A little dehydrated, it took effort. He pumped his fingers back and forth in her mouth, stimulating her saliva glands with hungry memories of the weight of his cock between her lips.
“Good, that’s good.”
Mouth full, she tried to nod. Whining when his thrusts into her mouth grew hard and firm.
“Nice and wet,” he said, his voice graveled with the night.
She opened her mouth and relaxed into his demand as her eyes teared up with the intensity. She didn’t like his fingers, not really. But the act did the job, made her think of what she did like, what she did want, until drool spilled down her chin.
Removing his hand, he put his fingers between her legs, adding slick to what was there, teasing with a wide circle and perfect pressure exactly where she needed it. She drifted into the pleasure like the rising sun—sparking bright and needy
“Beautiful. So fucking beautiful.” The words fell against her ears as if they could sink into her skin and live there. Like they were true.
He circled until her hips moved with him, until she was fully awake, completely alive, one hand clawing at the sheets.
The alarm went off. He stopped. Shut it off. “Fuck. Got to get up. Early day.” He kissed her cheek, pulled his hand away, and got up, leaving her on the brink. “Gotta shower. Will you start the coffee?”
A bit stunned, still on the edge of ecstasy, she felt him leave the bed.
“Gonna turn on the light. Watch your eyes.”
Making a noise of protest, she flung an arm over her eyes. The light switched on. She heard his dresser drawer squeak open. “Gonna shower. Get up, lazy bones, make me coffee.”
She didn’t want to move. It would just take a minute to finish what he’d started. Maybe three. But she wasn’t supposed to touch herself without permission, and he was already turning the shower on. Rolling out of bed, she found her favorite cotton dress and pulled it over her head. She hated walking around naked, as if the threat of some stranger looking in windows and knocking on their front door at five o’clock in the morning were a thing that happened frequently. Once had been enough.
Wet, needy, and still groggy from lack of sleep, she started the coffee, then pulled out eggs, green peppers, onions, cheese and bacon for breakfast. If he didn’t have time to eat, she’d just roll it up in a warm tortilla and call it good.
Still cracking eggs, she heard the creaking sound of the overheated coffee pot. What? No water? His morning stimulation had gone to her head and left her in a distracted state; she started the coffee pot without fresh water. “Shit,” she murmured to herself, turning on the faucet and filling the pot to remedy the issue.
Bacon sizzling, her phone rang. She checked the clock and name. 5:30. Her mother. There was a time zone difference, and no matter how many times she explained that to her mother, the older woman never managed to remember it.
“Hi, Mom.” She answered in a weary but amused tone.
“Katie! It’s snowing here. My tits are gonna freeze till Tuesday. Did you get the package I sent you?” Her mother was a bit of a character, more so as she had gotten older. The woman who had been spontaneous but restrained during Katie’s childhood had turned into an all-out nut in her elder years.
“Yes, but the big chipmunk glove things?”
“Not gloves. You put them on your feet for cleaning the floor. Isn’t that clever?”
“I couldn’t tell. All the writing was in Japanese.”
“Got them from the Daiso,” her mother said. Her mother went on to explain the joys of the Daiso for the third time that week. The floor-cleaning chipmunks hadn’t been the only thing she’d sent. The woman sent mail like every day was a holiday, and since Katie was her only child, she bore the brunt of the strange and unique giftings.
Her mom talked animatedly, and Katie flipped more bacon, smiling at Mike as he came around the hall corner. Fully dressed except for his bare feet, holding his socks, his hair combed, freshly shaved, he looked amazing.
Her insides clenched, the need he’d left her with waking up again at the sight of him. He smiled at her and went to pour coffee into the travel mug sitting next to the half-brewed pot.
“Your mom?” he asked. Katie nodded. Her mom didn’t know Katie was dating, and that dating had turned into a man who had his own drawers in her hand-me-down antique dresser, now living with Katie more than not.
Last month he’d insisted on paying half the rent, with a glint in his eye that warned her he would be staying and taking that over the same way he took her body over. It was hard to say no to a man who wanted to not only pay his share but take over some things so that she could worry less about finances and more about staying up late and staining her sheets. He was the reason she’d had to buy a new mattress cover.
“How you feelin’ this morning, Baby?” He didn’t lower his voice for the question. His eyes ate her up, touching her face, her chest, lower with a heated, possessive gaze that said he knew he’d left her needy and liked it. Liked that he could play her like his own personal guitar, pluck her strings and leave her vibrating for hours.
“What was that?” Katie’s mother stopped mid-sentence to ask. “I turned the TV. on.” Katie answered, motioning to her man with a finger at her lips. He grinned, sipped his coffee, set it down on the counter and crossed the room to her in long strides.
Reaching across the stove, he turned the knobs off.
Then his hands were on her hips, firm, certain, walking her backward two steps and spinning her until her back met the cool edge of the counter. The phone stayed pinned between her ear and shoulder; she couldn’t have dropped it if she had tried. He gave her a wicked smirk before sinking to his knees right there on the kitchen floor, eyes never leaving hers.
“—and don’t get me started on the tiny melon graters, Katie, they’re life-changing—” Katie heard her mother say.
Mike pushed her dress up to her waist in one slow drag. “Hold that for me.”
She took it with her free hand.
He lifted her leg up, hooking her heel on a drawer handle, so that her body was leaning backwards, one foot on the floor, her center exposed. The air felt cold for a second against her wet heat, then his hot mouth opened on her with deliberate, wicked intent. The first long lick stole every bit of air she had left.
Her mother’s voice kept chattering, bright and oblivious. Something about squid-shaped soy sauce bottles now. Gasps and whimpers escaped her. She tried to hold them back, but he acted like it was his mission to make her mad with pleasure.
He didn’t rush—never did when he wanted his taste. His tongue slid through her folds, with slow, greedy execution, licking her up like she had become the caffeine he needed to get through the day.
One broad hand splayed across her lower belly, holding her still; the other locked around her thigh, keeping her open for him. She couldn’t breathe right. Couldn’t decide if she wanted to laugh at the absurdity or fall apart from how perfect it felt. Her free hand fisted in his damp hair, not sure if she was trying to pull him closer or use him as her only anchor. He circled her clit with the flat of his tongue, then sucked gently— her legs trembled, knee threatening to to give as her hips jerked with a wanton acceptance of his carnality.
“Yes,” she whimpered.
“So, you want me to send the pickle box?” her mother asked.
Arm sliding around her waist, he pulled her deeper onto his face, growling low against her wet flesh, the heat shooting straight through her core.
“Katie? You okay, honey? You went quiet. Is that a yes or a no. I might just keep this one for myself. Or maybe get two? They are so affordable!”
“I—uh—” Katie’s voice cracked. She bit her lip hard enough to hurt. “Sorry mom. Just… burning the bacon a little.”
Mike looked up at her then, mouth glistening, eyes dark and amused. He’d moved the bacon so it wouldn’t burn because he was considerate like that. Pressing a soft kiss to her inner thigh, then went right back to work—long, thorough licks, she felt his nose, his chin, like he was coating his face in her wet, glossy mess on purpose. Her scent on him.
She felt her climax building fast, rushing again to the same bright, terrifying edge where he’d left her on in bed. She knee buckled, the hand in his hair tightened. The phone slipped, and she pressed keys.
A low whine escaped before she could stop it.
“Katie? Katie? What’s that noise?”
“Y-yeah, Mom. Some commercial.”
“That car insurance commercial? I hate those.”
Mike chuckled, sucked harder, flicked faster, and the lie turned into a choked moan she barely muffled against her own arm. He didn’t stop until she came—shaking, breathless, flooding his tongue with the last of what he wanted. Only then did he ease back, press one last gentle kiss to her pulsing clit, help her bring her leg back to the floor and stand.
He wiped his chin with the back of his hand, slow and deliberate, eyes locked on hers. Leaned in close enough that only she could hear. “Now, that’s how I like to add cream to my coffee.”
Still in the aftermath, ready to fall on the floor, Katie burst out laughing.
He always told the worst dirty dad jokes.
Mike grabbed his travel mug, his keys, and walked out the door like he hadn’t just wrecked her entire morning. She sagged against the counter, phone still in her ear, legs unsteady, heart hammering so loud she almost missed her mother demanding to know what she was watching on the TV. so she could watch it too.
She didn’t catch her breath for a very long time.