Page 28 of Taste

He scrunched up his nose, giving me a shy, almost mischievous smile. “No brandy butter. Custard maybe, or just with a sprinkling of icing sugar. The only way to have mince pies. Although my parents would be horrified to see me decorate Earth’s gift of food with frivolities. We had porridge at Christmas. Plain with a dash of milk.” He stopped himself, like he’d said too much, offered up something too personal to share.

“My mum is all about going overboard,” I said, taking the pressure off him. “We always have mince pies with brandy butter, custardandcream. There’s fresh bread and special coffee. She makes her own Christmas cake, and I make this amazing Yule log with raspberry buttercream, and…” Now I stopped myself, worried I was overwhelming him with my annoying chatter. There was no holding back at Christmas at our house.

He was watching me like he was trying to figure me out, and I saw it—a hint of fear in his eyes. His mouth twitched like he wanted to say something, but he was holding back.

“Would you like a kiss?” I asked.

It was stupid question, but I didn’t know what else to do. I was scared that if I jumped him, he’d freak out and push me away. And if I didn’t do anything, he would get up and leave. Despite how impulsive I could be, I wouldn’t physically stop him from leaving. It would be wrong and bordering on illegal. But there would be nothing, short of holding him down and locking him in the toilet, to stop him walking out the door if he chose to.

I really hoped he would stay.

There was a tiny smirk there as I leaned over and pressed my lips to his. Just the softest of touches.

He kissed me back, which spurred me on. My fingers wrapped around his face, and my body nudged closer to his, both of us moving until I was half on top of him and he was flat on his back. My leg edged over his, my face hovering over him as I planted kisses on his skin. On his eyelids, his cheeks. The corners of his mouth. Soft little kisses that made my stomach buzz with butterflies and my dick fill with blood.

He was gorgeous. Beautifully relaxed under the assault of my lips. His fingers moved up and curled around my neck as his tongue flicked over my mouth. He kissed me, lapping at my tongue, tasted me with a content little hum, his hips lifting from the bed as I ground my cock against his boxers.

I was already fully hard and no doubt leaking all over him. Shameless, warm, wet marks formed on his stomach as our bodies moved in some kind of uncoordinated dance, little ruts and jerks as his legs twisted with mine and his hands roamed over my back. They landed on my arse, his fingers digging into my glutes. I loved the slight pinch of it, and I loved his lips, his kisses. Loved the way our mouths fitted so perfectly together. Most of all, I loved how he made me feel.

I gave a tiny squeal, followed by an involuntarily happy giggle. I couldn’t help it, because he made me happy. Just with the sudden change in him as I kissed down his neck. I smiled as I moved my groin away from his hands and started to lick lines down his stomach. I kissed the dressing gown from his shoulders, buried my face in his belly button and grinned, feeling his hands fist my hair. The way his fingers twisted my messy strands was a new comfort, and my teeth greedily snapped the elastic of his boxers, making sure he was watching me as I tugged them down over his cock, which sprang free, hard and angry looking.

I wanted to keep his eyes on me, because I remembered this part far too well. Him watching me was something I ached for, another needy kink I had discovered was part of my attraction to him. I wanted to do this and do it well—a much more refined rerun of our first encounter, but this time, I would take my time and truly make sure he enjoyed it. Make it unforgettable. As I put my lips around the head of his cock, his arm flung over his face, his neck arched back, and his mouth opened in a silent scream. His chest flushed red. His hips trembling underneath me. For a moment, I thought he was going to come right then and there, but I was wrong. He was just hiding.

“Watch me,” I demanded as he tugged at my hair, bringing my mouth back to his needy cock.

I’d missed this. I’d missed the taste of him. I’d missed how responsive he was to my mouth. How the little flicks of my tongue made him shiver. How his breath hitched when I rolled my jaw just before I let him go.

My mouth made embarrassingly sloppy sounds around him, and I reached for my dick, tugging at it as I swallowed him down to the root. Everything was slow and soft, nice and wet, mixed with the sudden panic of breathlessness whenever he pushed down on my head and the exquisite pain as he pulled me up again by my hair.

On and on we went, pushing and pulling. My dick leaked pre-come like a faulty tap, and the head of his cock filled the back of my throat. It was dizzying, the strong scent of him, the wiry pubes tickling my face and the firm hands pushing me further. I swallowed around him and pulled back, breathed through my nose, dived right back in as he roared above me, his shouts erratic yet subdued.

I wished he would just let go. I wished he would scream my name. I looked up at him, meeting his eyes, his face a picture of flushed arousal.

He pushed me down again, holding me hard against his groin, his cock at the very back of my throat as I struggled to maintain the eye contact I craved. I needed him to see me. Watch me. Know what he did to me, what he’d made me do and how fucking good he made me feel.

My eyes were watering as I coughed and spluttered, choked on him as he let me go. I took a noisy breath and went straight back in, swallowing him down then letting go. Back in again, tears rolling down my face as his hips jerked violently and he fucked my mouth, his voice gathering strength.

He panted, moaned, screeched out swear words like a man possessed.

I kept going.

“Fucking get off me if you don’t want a mouthful!”

I swallowed him down again with even more determination. I took his cock, hummed around the jerking movements. I tugged at myself desperately as I buried my nose in his pubes, breathing in the distinct scent of him, drooling and crying as he finally did it. He screamed.

He screamed my name. Panted it out in ragged breaths, over and over again.

Mark, Mark, Mark.

My mind went blank, and my ears were turned deaf by the static as I came into my hand. I couldn’t even taste him as he ejaculated deep in my throat, his hips stuck in a spasm of pleasure arched off the bed. His softening cock still rested against my lips as I collapsed with my head on his stomach.

“I love you,” I croaked out, my voice hoarse and wrecked.

I shouldn’t have said it. I knew it was wrong. But at that moment, I couldn’t help it. I fucking loved him like I’d never loved anything else before. Because he was perfect. Beautiful. Fragile and strong, determined and so damned stubborn. I loved his body, his hands, and his lips, and I crawled up and kissed him with every bit of strength I had left in my bones.

He was still stroking my head as we finally collapsed, exhausted and sated, lips stinging and my mouth burning from the pummelling his cock had gifted me. The back of my throat was sore. My wrist ached from the awkward angle I’d been stuck in for too long, and my brain was lost in a mesmerising cloud of fuzz.

At some point, he dragged me into his arms like a limp ragdoll, and I willingly curled into his embrace, sighing contentedly as he held me tight against his chest. He never said a word, just held me, his face buried in my hair as his breathing evened out.

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