Page 119 of Not Another Yesterday
I grin, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “Oh yeah?”
“Uh-huh.” Her fingers move to my belt, unfastening it, and I let her. I let her take whatever she wants. Pretty sure we could be in the middle of an apocalypse and I’d still be standing right here, wanting her more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.
I slide my hands around her waist, resting them on her lower back. I draw her into me, kissing her deeply, tasting her like I’ve been starving. She answers with a soft moan, her lips hungry against mine. Cat unbuttons my pants, then lowers the zipper. I pull back, head already spinning. I’m not too far gone to remember we’re in the kitchen. I don’t think this is the best place for what she seems to want. Before I can say anything, she presses herself against me, her mouth claiming mine again.
Her hand slips inside my pants, sliding past the waistband of my boxers, and then—fuck—she wraps her fingers around my cock. Warm. Firm. Perfect. She strokes me with maddening control, her rhythm unhurried, confident. Not gonna lie, this forwardness is new, surprising, and definitely not something I’m going to complain about.
I groan into her mouth, my hips responding on their own, seeking that tight friction. I guess I could make it quick, take her right here against the counter and pray no one walks in. We don’t exactly have great luck when it comes to timing. Jesus, I would die if my grandmother walked in right now. Although, the risk almost makes it hotter.
Or maybe I should drag her into that tiny bathroom off the mudroom, press her up against the wall, and give her exactly what she’s asking for.
Cat pushes my pants and boxers down just enough to free my cock, and after that, thought becomes impossible. I guess the kitchen’s it. I’m throbbing in her grip, aching for her, desperate to be inside her. She tightens her fist, and I kiss her like she’s the air I need to breathe.
No time to waste.
I slide my hands up her back, reaching for the zipper of her dress, eager to peel it off her, to let the silky fabric fall off her delicious body and pool at her ankles. But she shifts. I blink in surprise just as she begins to sink to her knees in front of me, steady, deliberate.
Holy fuck.
“What are you…” I pant, breathing hectic with anticipation. Her face is level with my cock, her hazel eyes wide, turned up at me, glowing with mischief and something deeper.
“You always take care of me,” she murmurs. “It’s about time I take care of you.” She parts her lips and takes me into her warm, wet mouth.
“Fuck,” I groan, clutching the edge of the counter.
Her tongue swirls over my tip, slow and teasing, before she sucks—gently at first, then deeper, bolder. Her left hand traces up my stomach, fingers outlining my abs, and her right wraps around the base of my cock, stroking in perfect rhythm with her mouth.
I choke on a breath as she drags her teeth down my shaft—not enough to hurt, just enough to make me jolt, my hips bucking involuntarily. I lock my knees, fighting to stay in control, resisting the primal urge to thrust into her mouth.
I slam my eyes shut and focus on her. On the heat, the wet, the rhythm. My hand finds her hair, threading through the strands, guiding her gently, not pushing, just needing to touch her. Do I care that I might be ruining her up-do? Maybe a little. Enough to urge her to stop? Fuck no.
She takes me deeper, until she gags—just once—then pulls back slightly. I look down at her, dazed, breathing hard. “Relax your throat, baby,” I whisper, and she does. She swallows me again, deeper this time, and my stomach tightens. I can feel it—the pressure building, pleasure swirling.
“Shit,” I breathe, head tipping back as her hand grips my ass, squeezing, steadying me while her mouth works me faster. Her tongue circles, licks, sucks. Her hand joins in again, pumping me with hard, confident strokes.
I can’t stay quiet, can’t focus on anything but Cat’s mouth on my aching, throbbing cock. “God, fuck,” I moan, the sound tearing out of me. She’s relentless. Perfect. Every movement, every flick of her tongue, every pull of her lips tightens the coil inside me. I’m wound up, chasing it now—my climax.
I’m breathing hard, trying to hold on, but she moans around me and it zaps through my entire body like live-wire electricity. I grit my teeth, my body shuddering, not because it’s cold, but because of the way she owns me in this exact moment.
“Baby, you need to stop,” I groan, struggling to hang on, to keep a straight head, not to come apart right here, in the kitchen, in her mouth. “I’m gonna come, Cat.”
She doesn’t stop.
I open my eyes, and she’s looking up at me, her beautiful hazel eyes locked on mine, full of fire and determination.Shit, she wants this.Her lips tighten. Her hand moves faster. She moans again, the vibration of her hum deep and low. It detonates something inside me, fast and brutal, pleasure slamming through my body.
“Fuck, baby,” I gasp as I step over the edge, my whole body tensing, muscles coiled, vision blurring. I thrust once, then freeze, a deep groan tearing from my throat as my orgasm crashes over me. I grip the countertop, knuckles white, eyes shut, lost in the void of sex as I release into her mouth, every nerve alight, every thought wiped away.
My body jerks with the aftershocks, every muscle tight as I ride the tail end of it. Cat takes every drop, gently sucking my tip into her mouth like she’s savoring me. I’m fucking wrecked. Breathless, dizzy, still gripping the countertop like it’s the only thing keeping me solidly on the ground. When I finally look down, Cat’s eyes are glowing, her pink lips swollen, and there’s a proud, satisfied smile on her face like she just conquered something.
“Jesus, baby,” I breathe, another shiver ripping through me as an aftershock hits.
“Did I do okay?” she asks, grinning up at me, clearly fishing for compliments.
“Fuck, you did more than okay,” I say, reaching for her, needing her closer now that I can finally breathe again.
With fresh oxygen and blood finally winning the fight against gravity to reach my brain, reality crashes back in like a bucket of cold water. We're still in the damn kitchen. I exhale sharply, reaching down to tug my pants and boxers back up, fast and clumsy, my hands still shaking. My brain’s just starting to reboot, the fog lifting enough to remember that anyone could walk in at any second.
Cat doesn’t stop smiling, her thumb swiping across her bottom lip like she’s wiping away the last traces of…me. Jesus, this girl.
