Page 80 of The Betrayal

Tuesday morning comes with a loud crash and bang as Keaton’s alarm goes off and he forgets where he is for just a moment.

“Shit,” he groans. I can hear the sound of water trickling and when I sit up I see he has not only knocked his lamp over and smashed it, he has also spilt his cup of water off the side that is now leaking over the edge of his bedside table and onto the floor.

He clambers out of bed, tired eyed and grouchy as he goes to find a towel to wipe the water up with.

“I’ll get the broom,” I twist and pad out of bed, but Keaton stops me.

“No, stay there in case you get hurt,” he shakes his head from side to side.

“What? From a broom?” I laugh as I ignore him and walk out of the bedroom, moving my hips from side to side as I walk, knowing that his pretty green eyes are going to be on my ass.

Going to the cupboard under the stairs, I grab the broom and make my way back towards the bedroom and begin sweeping, Keaton on his hands and knees soaking up the water.

“What are you like?” I shake my head.

“I was having the best dream, then my alarm went off and I got used to not having it on for four days so it was a little shock to the system.”

“What was this dream?” I asked, intrigued.

“It involved you, whipped cream, strawberries and ice.”

“Sounds naughty,” I chime as I sweep a neat pile in the corner of the room.

“It was, and messy.”

“Well, maybe you can try it out one night, I do love strawberries and cream,” I wink, leaning against the broom.

“Don’t tease me baby, I’m rock hard and want to sink myself between your pretty little thighs.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“Work unfortunately, the boss is already fucked off with me.”

“I thought you were the boss,” I taunt him, lifting my cropped tee over my head then pushing my shorts down so I am standing naked.

“Well, there are four of us… so we’re all kind of, technically the bosses?” he finishes with a question, but I am unsure why.

He is still on his hands and knees, and I saunter over to where he is, leaning over in front of him, gripping his chin and tilting his head back.

“Are you hungry?” I ask, humming with a need for him.

“Famished,” he just about manages, his voice tight.

I lift a leg, placing my foot on the nightstand and keep the other firmly on the floor.

“Then eat,” I softly order, and he does.

His tongue is on me, lapping over my clit as his fingers find my opening and dip inside of me and I steady myself by entwining my fingers through his long brown hair, tilting his head to the side as he eats me as if I am his last meal.

Moans fill the room, and he is still on his knees.

Fingers buried inside of me, rubbing my g-spot, the other is curled round my hip as I begin to ride his face.

“There’s a good girl, take what you need from me,” he murmurs, rubbing his nose over my clit, his tongue gliding through my lips as his fingers still fuck me at a slow and torturous pace. I tighten my grip on his hair, tilting his head back so his tongue is focused on my clit, his fingers deep inside me.

“Yes,” I breathe as he fastens his thrusts, his tongue staying slow. “Just like that,” I pant and he does as I ask. I come undone on his tongue and he doesn’t let a single drop of me go to waste.

“You’re a good boy,” he helps me lift my leg down and I lean down, gripping his cheeks between my thumb and index finger, swiping my tongue into his mouth which switches something feral inside of him.

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