Page 45 of Handy

Emotion clogs my throat, and for once, I’m speechless. All I can do is sniffle and nod before sinking into another kiss. We buck and rut, the tiles underneath us quickly warming to match the heat of our skin. We trade hungry, muffled sounds, rolling to switch positions so Griff’s weight pins me to the floor as we grind our cocks together, both panting and gasping at the feeling of our hot shafts dragging against each other.

“Any chance you have supplies stashed in your pockets again?” He plants wet, greedy kisses up and down the column of my throat.

“Uh…” My sex-fogged brain buzzes as I search for the answer to what I’m sure is a simple question. His cockhead catches on mine and heat rushes through me, my hole fluttering and my insides aching with emptiness. Oh, supplies, right. “No, not on me.”

It’s not like I was expectingto get ravished in the kitchen tonight. I absolutely will not make that mistake again. From now on, there will be a condom and lube in my pocket everywhere I go just in case my sexy, growly boyfriend gets the sudden urge to maul me. But future planning isn’t going to do a damn thing to help us right now.

I could get my horny ass up off the floor and go to my bedroom to get supplies, but, ugh that sounds so far away right now with Griff’s hot mouth worrying my collarbone and hisnaked body crushing me to the floor. I cast my gaze around the kitchen, stupidly expecting a solution to present itself on a silver platter.

… or a butter dish.

My eyes land on the room-temperature stick of butter sitting on the counter a few feet away.

We can’t.

Griff stops sucking a bruise onto my collarbone and cranes his neck to follow my gaze.

“We can’t,” he echoes my thoughts.

“Right, of course not. I mean, what kind of animal would slick up with butter to fuck someone?” I rasp out a laugh, my eyes still fixed on the butter, Griff’s cock throbbing eagerly against mine.

I’m sure there are less messy alternatives. I’ve got a bottle of olive oil around here somewhere. But that poses the same problem as the lube—sure, it exists, but we’d have to put a pause to all of this glorious, filthy groping to actually do anything about it. And the butter isright there.

Griff shifts his weight and we both groan as our balls slap together. He catches my eye with a furrow in his brow.

“We still wouldn’t have a condom,” he says. I can tell he’s waiting for me to cave and suggest we move this to the bedroom, but come on, where’s the fun in that?

I bite my lip and trail my fingers down the slope between his pecs, all the way to his belly.

“That’s fine,” I say hoarsely. “If it’s okay with you.”

His gaze darkens and his cock spasms, a quiet, horny growl vibrating in his throat.

“Fuck it,” he mutters, pushing off of me for half a second to rise on his knees and plunge two fingers into the soft stick of butter.

My laughter turns into a surprised gasp as he grabs my calf with his clean hand and flips me over. I was wrong, the tile isn’t quite as warm as I thought, in spite of my ass having been ground into it for the last ten minutes. The shock of the chill to my cock and balls makes me gasp a second time, but I don’t have the chance to complain or even make a joke about my poor life choices before Griff’s fingers dig into my ass cheek, and seconds later, his wet, scorching hot tongue slithers across my rim.

“Oh fuck yeah,” I pant, shoving my ass towards him with a greedy whimper.

He hums, lapping at my hole with sloppy, deep strokes of his tongue. “One upside to the butter…” he murmurs, easing two slicked fingers into my hole at the same time while still nibbling on my rim. “Unlike lube, it’s edible.”

He immediately proves his point by licking me deeper as he strokes his fingers in and out, his knuckles tugging at my rim, his fingertips ghosting teasingly over my prostate. My cock throbs and twitches against the cool floor, which is getting increasingly slick beneath me with the precum gushing from my slit and the drool running down my chin.

“Fuck me.” I claw at the floor with nothing to grab on to. “Fuck me,” I plead, shoving my ass back towards him again shamelessly.

He growls against my hole and fucks his fingers deep, twisting and scissoring them a few times to stretch and relax my muscles.

“Griff,” I whine.

With a chuckle at my impatience, he eases his fingers out and crawls up my body. The head of his cock taps on the swell of my ass cheeks and the hair on his chest and belly tickles my back. I push myself up off the floor an inch, just so I can feel more of him, and he makes one of those happy, grumbly sounds and nuzzles my ear.

“Ready?” he asks, notching the bare head of his cock against my buttery hole. This is exactly the kind of thing I’m going to wince in horror and disgust over later when I have some post-nut clarity, but right now… fuck, it’s kind of hot. Scratch that, it’s extremely fucking hot that I make this man so out of his mind horny for me that he’s willing to butter me up and stuff me like a Thanksgiving turkey. Gobble gobble, motherfucker.

“Yes,” I groan, my hips twitching as I rub myself against him like a cat in heat, trying to find the right way to squirm underneath him that will end with his dick inside me.

Luckily, he takes pity on me. With a needy growl, he reaches over my head to lace his fingers through mine, then rolls his hips and fills me in one breath-stealing, ball-clenching, moan-inducing thrust.

I wail his name again, a new mixture of need and relief igniting in my gut and between my legs as he stretches and fills me.

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