Page 82 of The Heart We Guard
“I love all your tattoos,” Greer says. “Will you tell me about them sometime?”
Of course, she’s thinking about the stories, not the physicality.
“Yeah, I’ll tell you. You still good with where this is going?” I ask.
It’s rare for me to check in with a woman. I assume they’ll tell me if I’m doing something they don’t want or don’t like. Maybe that’s callous. But with Greer, I find I really want to be sure.
“Very. But you’re taking too long to come lie with me.”
“That’s a pretty easy fix, sweetheart.”
I climb onto the bed and settle between her thighs, making sure the bulk of my weight is between her thighs and not on her stomach. “This doesn’t put too much weight on the baby, does it?” I ask as I cup her cheek and brush her hair back from her face. Never knew I’d be one for petting a woman, but there is something about Greer that makes her utterly pettable.
Maybe it’s because when we’re not naked like this, she’s so damn strong. And you can’t pet a wild animal until it lies down.
“No, Pooks is fine, you’re good.”
She’s used that name before. “Why Pooks? I never asked.”
“It’s just the nickname I gave the baby. Don’t know why it stuck, but it did.”
Pooks.
I smile as I turn the word over in my head.
I move my lips down her neck, kissing the soft skin of her shoulder and over the rise of her breast. I lick her nipple, then draw it possessively into my mouth.
Some of the guys have talked about having a breeding kink. Of not being able to wait to knock their partners up and have kids. Maybe it’s because I had Ember so goddamn young that I never got it. Because the responsibility felt too overwhelming when I wasn’t even an adult myself.
But now, nibbling and biting the hard nub makes me think about how, one day soon, she’ll feedourbaby this way, which causes me to grind my dick down into the mattress to ease the ache in it.
“That feels so…oh,” Greer says, her voice breathless.
She slides her hands into my hair and tugs hard.
I work my way farther down her body, kissing her sternum, biting her waist, licking the crease of her hip.
In the times we’ve been together, I’ve never gone down on her. “Can’t wait to taste you, Greer.” I remove her panties andpeel her lips open slightly so I get a better view. “Fuck, you have a pretty cunt.”
It’s pink, veering red, shimmering with wetness.
I lick through it, scooping it up, and savoring the first swallow. Greer throws her head against the pillow and arches her back. I don’t want to ask what being asexual has meant for her body count, or the number of times she’s had sex, but she always seems so uninhibited and yet surprised by how incredible it can make her feel.
“Tastes good too,” I say, before dipping my tongue back in to stroke her again.
Her fractured and tormented groans tell me what I’m doing works for her.
As does the way she tugs on my hair and rides my face like I might move before she can come.
The urgency she feels is palpable.
I slide a finger inside her, then another. I wish I had a vibrator, a little pocket one, that I could press against her clit.
Instead, I circle it with my tongue before sucking down on it hard. Her back arches off the bed as I maintain the pattern.
Lick.
Suck.
