Page 61 of Light As A Feather
“I did. God, I missed it so much.” The affirmation is music to my ears.
“That’s right, baby, because nobody knows how to work this body like me.” Fisting her hair in my left hand, I pull and force her to arch her back. “Stand until just the tip is still in.”
She does, and her pussy clenches around me as she holds the squat. Sol makes such a stunning little marionette dancing on the strings I pull. “Now come back down, nice and slow.”
She does, circling her hips when she swallows my dick whole once again. Uncerimoniously, the book drops from her hand. Forgotten. So unimportant when she’s engrossed with her body.
“Yeah, move your hips just like that.” I rub my hands up and down her thick thighs while she works me over. “Just. Like. That,” I groan. “There you go. Nice and slow. Slow, slow, slow; now stop.” I return my hands to her heavy breasts while I suck gently at her neck. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough suction to pull a whimper of need from her.
Sol stops moving as requested, and I watch her chest heave with the exertion it takes to restrain herself from chasing her pleasure. “Look at you taking direction. Such a perfect little cock-warmer, aren’t you?” Her pussy strangles me. “Like you were made to sit here and look pretty. I told you that you were made for me, My Omen.”
“Thorne, please fuck me.”
I chuckle as my hands come to a rest where her thighs bracket her cunt. “You like that? When I tell you how good you’retaking me.” I finally press my thumb to her clit. Her hips jump at the shock of pleasure. “It’s no wonder there’s never been anyone else who could replace me.”
“What good it's done you.” The comment takes me by surprise. I thought we’d moved past this, but she can’t seem to help herself—a glutton for punishment. Sol’s words pick at that wound of fear that’s festered inside me without her.
“I told you. We’re not having this conversation. There’s no life I will ever lead without you. Stand up.” Bracing herself on the walls on either side of us, she does. “Since you can’t seem to help yourself. I’m going to give your mouth something better to do.”
Kneeling between my legs, she glares up at me, the sharp liner making her eyes severe. But she doesn’t resist when I press the head against her lips. Her lashes flutter as I gently shift my hips to push myself deeper. She tastes me, laving her tongue along the underside of my shaft, then circling it. I’d be fine with her teasing me for as long as she wants, but it’s not long before she’s sucking vigorously like she has something to prove. As she works my dick in her mouth, Sol’s forehead rests on my abdomen, her hair tickling me. Piling it on the top of her head, I take in the view of her hollowed-out cheeks and the occasional sight of my dick bulging against the side.
“You have some fucking nerve, telling me that I should move on in one breath and sucking the life out of me with another.” It spurs her to go harder, dragging a groan from me. “Fuck, I like it when you challenge me. I love being desperate for you. I like that it drives me a little mad.” Those honey eyes meet mine, a challenge making the yellow tones more prominent. Her lips tilt a fraction, the flirtation of a smile before the slightest prick of her teeth prods my skin. My heart skips a beat, heat flooding my system in the intoxicating thrill only she can deliver. “So, you do want to play.” My grip tightens in her hair before I release her. “My turn, then.”
Leaning back on my hands, I thrust my hips upward, shoving my dick into her throat. She gags, but her fingers dig into my thighs, the sharp edge of her nails urging me on. As I continue to thrust, she opens her throat for me. “Fuck, baby. You always were so good at anticipating my needs.” She hums her agreement, the bass of it making my hips jump.I’m so close.I chase my release, moving my hips faster and faster, ignoring the burn in my calves and thighs as I abuse her throat. “When I pound into you like this, do you think they can feel it on the other side of the veil?”
Sol chooses that moment to suction those pouty lips around my dick and swallow as hard as she can. With intent, she summons my climax, forcing me to come down her throat, pulling everything I have to give with each gulp. “Fuck,” I pant as she releases me.
“I think that should suffice, don’t you?” Sol asks with feigned innocence as she licks her lips, then stands and starts dressing. “I’m going to brush my teeth, then I’ll meet you all down there.”
“You don’t want me to wait for you?”
“Nope.”
If I hadn’t been in love with her for most of our lives, my pride would be blistered by the quickness with which the moment of intimacy is snuffed out. But the shift in her demeanor isn’t jarring; it’s as natural as the strike of the hour on a clock. I appreciate it for what it is. Her effectively shifting gears to face the unknown.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Sol.” My cheeks strain as I paste a smile on my face. I clear my throat and try again, adding more inflection to the words. It takes me several more tries before I settle on something that sounds somewhat enthusiastic but not disingenuous.
If I had it my way, a “hi” and a handshake would suffice, but if these people are anything like Thorne, they’re probably huggers and the type to want to actually get to know you.
It’s not a bad thing, but it does make me more anxious. The most unnerving part is that, despite the fact that I truly do believe that it would be best if I left, I want his friends to like me because they’re important to him. They’re the people who have been here for him when I couldn’t be. That’s worth putting in the effort for, despite my own discomfort. That’s what I need to focus on.
Taking a deep breath, I work up the courage to go downstairs.
Unlike the fictional scenarios I’d run through in my head, they’re not crowded around the staircase waiting for me, like some awkward debutante reveal. Thankfully, I’m able to slip into the busy scene and observe for a minute, making a quick study of the energy and dynamics in the room. Carefully attuned, I notice the moment Hawthorne’s attention shifts to me.
Across the room, our eyes meet like the beacon of a lighthouse in a storm. But he doesn’t wait for me to come to him; he crosses the room quickly, gracefully maneuvering around the busy group.
With him standing at my side, the floor stops moving beneath me, my center of gravity rights, and I feel a little less lost in this sea of unfamiliar people.
I used to feel guilty about my reliance on Thorne, like I was some kind of clingy burden, a dead weight. But he’s always treated me like an extension of himself, his acceptance effortless, intuitive.
The first time I admitted how much of a difference it makes to have him by my side, leading introductions and keeping conversations moving—often shifting them in directions he knows I can contribute to—he was understanding and eager to provide that accommodation for me. It’s just one of the reasons I fell for him, even before I was ready to admit it to myself.
“Do you remember the old signal?” he whispers discreetly when he leans in and kisses my temple. My heart swells at the reminder as he takes my hand in his. Of course, I know what he means. Tapping the top of his hand with my thumb three times, I pull the unspoken code from memory. “Come on,” he says as he tugs me toward Mendez. It was clear he was big and tall when I saw his photo, but in person, he’s still an imposing figure.
“Ozzie, Sol. Sol, Ozzie,” he introduces us plainly, and I’m grateful for it.
“What happened to no names on investigations?” Ozzie nudges Hawthorne.
