Page 25 of In the Grey of Dawn

“More?”

“Just that I'm open to almost everything and I'll tell you no when I'm not interested. I don't think we need to overthink our time together is all.”

Overthink our time together, what the fuck does that mean? All that makes me do is contemplate everything that's left unsaid. Not willing to give up this calm that I’ve been granted, I choose to ignore everything else we need to address, for now at least.

Leaning into nirvana I tenderly clean her pussy with my tongue, gently licking and kissing before sucking our combined cum and holding it in my mouth.

Tugging her hand until she sits up, I softly rub her cheek, dragging my thumb back and forward over her bottom lip. Looking up at me, her eyes glazed, I take my hand and firmly press against her cheeks until her lips part and her mouth opens. Getting in close to her face, I try to see any fear or resistance but she's so calm and willing to accept anything I'm going to give her. I have no doubt she'll tell me when I've overstepped and I’m prepared to grovel if I ever do.

Hovering over her face, I spit our cum into her mouth, a small shudder running through her as she takes it.

“Swallow,” I say, releasing her face. Her tongue peeking out and licking her lips as she does. The satisfaction of that simple movement practically cementing the fact that I won't ever let her go.

“Too much?” I say looking down at her as she licks her lips.

“Never.”

Chapter 15 - Charlie

Opening the door to his apartment, I never really considered where he might live, and for whatever reason, the fact that his place is on top of the bar is so unbelievably Porter, that it would seem strange if he didn’t.

“Sorry, it's a bit of a mess,” he says, guiding me into the kitchen.

It's a cute open plan area, almost a loft-like space with everything out in the same large room, minus the bathroom. Which I'm assuming is behind the one closed door I can see. Stainless steel benchtops and dark grey cabinets give the space a masculine feel but then the warm wood panelling on the far wall gives it a touch of comfort. Looking around his space, it's so sparse I doubt for a second if he actually lives here, that anyone lives here.

He's at the coffee table shuffling papers around, carrying at least four cups into the kitchen but other than that small touch of life, everything else is spotless.

“Where’s the mess,” I say, looking around the room. Hospital corners are flawlessly crisp on his bed and there is not one book, picture frame or piece of art anywhere to be seen. A jar rests on the mantel but otherwise there is one pillow on the bed,one lamp, and one bedside table. Thankfully he has a two seater couch but I’m struggling to see how he lives like this.

It's so cold, so shut off from the world and I think, as he scratches his jaw looking out at the room, he's only now noticing how little there is.

It’s a blank slate.

“I guess I never really got around to getting more stuff,” he says a little sheepishly.

“That's okay. It's a beautiful space. My only request is if I'm going to stay over occasionally, that we get another pillow?”

I try to be light hearted about it because I definitely saw worse bachelor pads when I went through my nursing school hoe phase, but it's one of those moments where it says more about him that he's living like this than he realises.

He's so disconnected, I wonder, despite how far we've come tonight, if he will ever truly break down his walls and let me in.

“What do you mean occasionally?” he says, walking up to me, taking my face gently in his hands. “Every night we'll stay together. Every night I want to feel you pressed against me. I don't care if you're angry at me or are sick, we stay together every night, okay?”

I'm a little taken aback by his tenderness and I don't know if it scares me. I want to pull away and get closer to him all at the same time. I know I was pushing him, but I also didn't really think past what it would mean if I actually got him. Giving him a small smile I try to look down, away from his stare but he holds my head firmly for a second, reinforcing his wants when he says, “Every night,” so softly it's barely audible.

Taking my hand he leads me to the one other door in his apartment and as expected, it's the bathroom. Dark tiles similar to the grey of the kitchen cover everything, making the space feelintimate. There is an open shower with a tiled partition wall next to a large bathroom vanity. It's like a shower stall without any glass and it makes me smile at how perfect the design is because I'm almost certain most people don't want to scrub shower glass every other weekend.

Guiding me inside the room, he turns the water on, letting it heat up as he tugs at the hem of my top before quickly pulling it over my head and tossing it on the floor.

Once I'm naked he swiftly removes his own clothes and steps into the shower space, dragging me into him, my back against his chest as he positions us so the hot water covers me. The gold pendant he wears on a chain around his neck hot against my back. It's the most comforting feeling, Porter pressed against me as the hot water soothes my front.

Gathering some soap, he rubs his hands across my body, scrubbing away the debauchery of what we did downstairs. His butterscotch and clove scent mixing with the steam and flooding my senses.

Resting my head back against his chest, I love the way his hands softly drag across my skin becoming firmer when he cups my breasts or hips. It's a perfect representation of who he is and I hope that after a little time has passed, he opens up a little more and becomes a little softer with me.

Finally leaving the comfort of the shower when the water starts to run cold, he wraps me in a deliciously soft towel after spending far more time than necessary drying my body, double checking all of the marks he left.

It's not the first time I've been marked by a lover but this is the first time I've welcomed the sting and heat it gave me. There's never been anyone I've trusted enough to pull back if things got a little rougher. I've done a little light impact play over the years but the way Porter knows just what I want and howmuch to give, it makes me wet all over again and I struggle to stop my thighs squeezing together without him noticing.

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