Page 41 of His Coveted Obsession

“It means I’m hungry for you and I want to play. It means I don’t want to talk about this, and I don’t like being analyzed.”

“Oh, okay… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Don’t be sorry for asking me questions, but know that I don’t like people prodding deeply into me. If I want you to know, I’ll tell you.”

“You got it.”

I bit my bottom lip and turned away, my burning face filled with guilt and embarrassment. It was such an intrusive question, and I shouldn’t have asked. I only asked out of love, but clearly I was so wrong.

Please don’t be mad at me. Please don’t break up with me.

Easton reached for me and lifted my chin, looking deeply into my eyes with his intense coffee-and-cream ones.

“I forgive you,” he said.

“Thank you…” I whispered, my eyes watering, feeling so bad for what I’d asked and terrified he’d give up on me. “Don’t leave me, Easton,” I blurted. “Please.”

His dark blond brows furrowed. “Why would I leave you?”

“I ruined our moment. Believe me when I tell you I wasn’t trying to analyze you. I just want to know you, and I worry about you.”

“And I worry about you, too, clearly. You’re mine.”

I lunged at him and kissed him hard, using it as the unspoken words of my love.

“Easton, when I suck you down, would you let me rim you? Have you ever been rimmed?” I ask to divert the uncomfortable moment.

“I haven’t, but I’ve seen it done a lot in porn.”

“Would you like to try it?”

“Yes.”

I smiled, stood from his lap, and held out my hand for him to take. “Where do you want us, Superman?”

“I’m going to bend you over my sofa and fuck you.”

I shuddered from arousal and his possessive growl.

“Can I taste you first?”

“Yes.”

We walked into his living room, and Easton moved the coffee table out of the way, allowing us to stand in the center of the room. He stood there as I got him undressed. He seemed to really like it when I did that, so I was happy to take care of him. I had so little to give him in return, but if this pleased him, I would get him undressed and fold his clothes neatly for as long as I breathed.

I gently tugged the cashmere sweater over his head and folded it, setting it on the cushioned chair behind me. His hair was sticking up everywhere, making me giggle as I smoothed it out. He had a small smile on his face, watching me, and it made my heart bloom even more with love, as if his little smile was reserved only for me.

“I like you touching me,” he said.

“Good. I like touching you.”

I unbuttoned his dress shirt and pulled it off him, but instead of folding it, I draped it over the back of the chair so it wouldn’t get wrinkled.

As I ran my hands over Easton’s lean, muscular chest, he pulled off my glasses and set them on the end table.

“Yeah, Ireallylike touching you. I never get tired of looking at your body.”

“Thank you.”

---