Page 83 of Deck the Fire Halls

Rob laughed, then in a move I was not suspecting, he smacked my ass. “I’m making you breakfast.”

I wanted to wrap my arms around him, doze in the afterglow, but he was rolling out of bed. I heard him take a piss and wash his hands, then a moment later, I heard the coffee machine beep awake.

Damn.

I considered getting up, but my bones were Jell-O. I ran my hand down my body, giving my dick a palm, and I shuddered and jerked at the sensitivity.

Christ, he’d ruined me.

I was useless to do anything but laugh.

A few moments later, I heard cupboards opening and a pot clanging, so I made myself get out of bed. I pulled on my briefs and work pants but left the shirt off. I relieved myself, washed my hands and face, and found him in the kitchen at the counter, wearing a dark gray robe, whisking eggs in a bowl.

Never had a man looked so sexy.

I walked up behind him, wrapped my arms around his waist, and pressed my face into the soft fabric at the back of his neck. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

He laughed as he kept whisking. “Scrambled eggs okay?”

“Mmm,” I mumbled. “Perfect. Need me to do anything?”

“No, I got it.” Then he shrugged. “I like looking after you.”

I snorted. “You just did. You gave me the best morning wake-up blow job in the history of blow jobs.”

“It was my pleasure.”

“Pretty sure it was mine. And I didn’t get to return the favor.”

He stopped whisking. “You don’t have to. I did it because I wanted it, not because I wanted you to do it to me.”

“And now,” I murmured, kissing the top of his shoulder. “What if I wanted it?”

His shoulders rose with his intake of breath, but he didn’t say anything.

“If I were to turn you around right now,” I said, undoing the belt of his robe. “And sink to my knees.”

He made a noise in the back of his throat. “Yes?”

“And suck your cock right here in the kitchen. Would you like that?”

He turned around then, his robe open, his eyes dark, and his cock half-hard.

“Hm,” I said with a smirk. “I take it that’s a yes. And you naked under that robe is my new favorite thing,” I said as I slowly went to my knees in front of him.

I took him straight into my mouth, earning me a strangled cry. I pinned him to the kitchen counter andworked him over without mercy. Hands, tongue, lips, sucking the come from his balls.

He came with a cry, his hands in my hair, his body clenching, trembling. And when he’d had enough, I stood up, collecting him in my arms. He was heavy, panting, and we stood there for I don’t know how long.

Just holding each other, arms wrapped around each other, our faces resting on each other’s shoulders.

Embracing what this was. How we felt. Even if we weren’t ready to name it yet or ready to admit it or say it out loud, there in his kitchen, we felt it.

I knew he did. I had no doubt.

He couldn’t cling to me like he did and not have feelings.

But then the coffee machine beeped, turning itself off because we’d neglected it. He pulled back first, and I cupped his face and pressed my lips to his forehead. “I’ll make the coffee,” I said.

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