Page 34 of Drum Me Away
I wanted all of her, which was stupid of me because if I’d learned anything over the course of the last thirteen years, it was that Faith did not give all of herself. And now that I had a little information about her childhood, I could see why. Hell, she had no clue how to love. She didn’t even love herself.
I stepped into my bedroom and pulled on a pair of gym shorts and wandered into the kitchen.
That knowledge about Faith ought to make me put on the brakes. It should have kept me from doing what we did a short while ago. Barring that, it definitely should keep me from wanting to do it again. Okay, acting on doing it again.
But when she stepped into the room, her hair piled on top of her head in a messy, multicolored bun, wearing a tank with no bra and baby blue cotton shorts that were too short to wear out in public—fuck me, there was no way in hell I was going to stop whatever was happening between us.
“Hey,” she said with a soft smile. Her makeup was more conservative than usual; I could see the physical similarities to her sister that were normally hidden behind all the blusher and heavy eyeshadow and dark lipstick.
“Hey.” I looped my arm around her back, dragging her close for a kiss that she acted like she was all too happy to let escalate, but I pulled away because between my run and our workout in the bathroom, I was starving. I needed fuel if I had any expectation of putting forth additional physical exertion.
“What are you in the mood for?” I asked, and Faith laughed.
Yeah, I’d walked right into that one.
“Food,” I clarified.
Her laugh faded into a chuckle as she opened the fridge door and stood there in that pose everyone took when they were hungry but not sure what to make and hoped the contents would magically spell out an idea.
I moved behind her, close enough that my semi-erection brushed her ass, and wrapped my arms around her and rested my chin on her shoulder. She wiggled her butt, and maybe I could go another round before food after all.
“Let’s make it easy and make sandwiches,” she said.
I kissed her temple. “How about grilled ham and cheese?”
“Perfect.”
She assembled and I cooked. It was easy, comfortable, something I could picture us doing a year from now—and five, ten, fifty. Through marriage and kids and grandkids and holy fuck, I seriously needed to check myself. One round of sex in the bathroom and I was already planning our future?
No way in hell would I ever give Faith an inkling of where my brain was at. She’d run in the other direction so fast, my head would spin.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, and I almost laughed at the timing.
Instead, I shook my head. “That I’m starving.”
We moved around to the other side of the counter and sat on the barstools, Faith feeding me bites of melted cheese and grilled ham.
I reciprocated, and somehow, my fingers ended up in her mouth, and she sucked on them while staring into my eyes, and my dick went so stiff and hard, I had to stand to ease the pressure.
She pushed her plate away. “I’m full.” Her gaze dropped to my groin. “I mean, I want to be full.”
“Fuck me.” I could hear the growl in my voice. Her eyes flared and her cheeks went dusky, the heat spreading down her neck and across the expanse of skin above the collar of her tank.
I moved between her legs, wrapped my hands around her thighs, and lifted her off the barstool. She circled her arms around my neck and hooked her ankles behind my back, and I carried her over to the couch.
Lowering her onto her back, I followed, my body pressing hers into the cushions. I had a good four inches on her and a lot more bulk, yet we fit together like it was our destiny.
There went my imagination, running away again. It was entirely likely I’d turn these thoughts into song lyrics, and normally when I had ideas like this, I’d stop everything and write them down.
But not right now. Faith was my entire focus. All I wanted to do was pleasure her.
I rolled my hips, dragging my cock along her seam. She arched, gasping, thrusting out her tits. Her nipples were sharp points, practically cutting through the fabric of her thin tank.
I shoved my hands up her sides, taking the shirt with me until I tugged it over her head and tossed it over the back of the couch. Shifting my body down until I was eye level with her chest, I wrapped one paw around her right breast. It was heavy, full. I swear the nipple was begging for my attention. I thrummed it with my thumb while suckling at the left one with all the enthusiasm of a man who was being handed his greatest fantasy on a silver fucking platter.
The sounds she made while her body writhed underneath me! I was doing everything right.
I switched sides, giving her right tit an equal proportion of my attention, until her hand threaded into my hair and tugged. I let her nipple go and glanced up at her face.
