Becca Ritchie - Kiss the Sky

Maybe I can skip shaving.

I shudder.

Fuck it. I’ve come this far. I’m naked in a shower with a naked man. I can bend over a little. I lather soap on my leg, and then I lean over to finish shaving. My bottom rubs against his dick, and I go to stand up and scoot forward, away from him, but Connor puts a hand on my back, forcing me to stay down.

His other palm caresses the soft flesh of my ass. And then he squeezes me hard, and I hear the warning in his grip don’t give Scott anything of yours.

I wince and can’t help but smile, loving that he cares. He alternates between a forceful grip and a soft one, rubbing and clenching, nearing the spot between my legs. Not yet entering. My arms shake as I attempt to shave, especially when he massages my bottom and then slaps it. Ahh…fuck me…

Why does that feel so good?

He releases his hand on my back, allowing me the option to stand, but his fingers perilously dip to the crease of my ass.

He lowers them. And I yelp, a sound that has never left my mouth before. I’ve just been startled out of my fucking mind. Holy… I knick my kneecap, drawing blood, and stand up straight, causing Connor’s hands to fall from me.

Scott laughs. He’s fucking laughing, which only pummels me with more guilt and shock. I just rejected Connor right in front of Scott—is that what it looks like? I slowly turn around and meet Connor’s complacent, composed and most importantly unreadable expression. I channel so many apologies through my face. I’m using facial muscles that have been static for the past twenty-three years.

Scott’s chortles still scald my eardrums. Out of haste, I try to turn on the producer and curse him out, to ineloquently explain how it wasn’t just Connor. If any man tried to do that with me, they would have been met with the same alarmed response.

But Connor pinches my chin and forces my gaze on him. Our eyes connect on a different level. The world becomes small.

No Scott.

No shower.

No rush of water or nakedness.

Just me. Just him. Just us.

Together again.

Desire blankets and pulses and shrouds me in its heady web. Wants and urges bubble, feelings that have been caged since we moved to the townhouse. It all springs to life, and I see the longing swim in his deep blues.

We haven’t gotten off in a while. I haven’t masturbated in our bed, fearful of the noises catching on microphones outside the walls. And Connor used to masturbate in our shower, which has become complicated with the communal style here.

We’re both horny as hell. Especially after arousing each other downstairs.

And then his thumb brushes my jaw, my lower lip, and slides into my mouth.

An audible noise of consent, of yearning and delight escapes.

It’s a moan that I am not so quick to catch this time.

She closes her lips around my thumb. Her pleasure flushes her cheeks and causes her to shift towards me, my cock throbbing for her tightness, for the place that she’s let no man into.

I want to remind Rose that I’m the one who causes her body to tremble—not the fucking moron one shower over. Her anger towards Scott only fuels him and lets him believe he has power over her. Biting comments, insults, that love-hate relationship is our dynamic.

He can’t have it.

But as soon as she makes a noise, he shuts off his shower. I watch him wrap a towel around his waist, and he glances at me once with cold, pissed eyes before he shoves through the door. I’m not uncomfortable by the situation, but hearing my girlfriend moan from my touch must have been his limit.

My free hand slides to the back of Rose’s neck, holding her very close to me. I lower my head and whisper, “I’m going to put something else in your mouth, Rose.”

Her eyes meet mine with questions. I say only one thing with my gaze.

You’re safe with me.

She can leave. She has full capability to knock me back in the chest and chastise me about commanding her to drop to her knees. Rose is not shy. She is not weak or insecure. If she doesn’t want something, she’ll let me know.

She’s a virgin, I remind myself. Giving her what she craves, what she’ll love but denies—it’s going to take time, no matter how much my body protests the long wait. But if she can accept this, to begin to submit in bed, then we can finally move forward.

As she processes my words, her body responds by curving towards mine. She wants to let go for once. I know this. She knows this. She just has to decide if she’s going to allow herself that pleasure or refuse it on some higher, ridiculous moral ground.

Her fingers skim my wrist, and I remove my thumb from her mouth. Quite slowly and effortlessly, she sinks onto her knees, eyelevel with my dick. I want to drive it into her mouth, to fuck her the way I want to fuck her pussy. She’s a virgin.

Patience, Connor.

I grab a fist-full of her wet hair, the shower pelting her beautiful body in waves. Her breath deepens as she looks from me to my partially hardened cock. I rest a hand on the tiled wall.

Rose seizes my shaft with light, tender hands, so unsure of how to hold it.

“Put it in your mouth,” I urge with a deep, possessive voice.

She gives me a sharp look, one that’s ten times harder than her grip. My whole body reacts to her gaze, thrumming in pure fucking want. I enjoy how difficult she is. I stare down at her, watching as she opens her mouth wide enough to put me between her lips.

I’m not even halfway in before she stops. Her hands fall to her thighs, so uncertain again.

She tries to withdraw, and I immediately clench her hair. Her gaze is all fire, all tumultuous and hot. But it’s not a look that says stop. It’s one full of passionate, ugly, beautiful words and curses. Fuck mes mixed with assholes and cocksuckers and hell fucking yeses.

She’s complicated. Just the way I like.

“I’m going to fuck your mouth, darling,” I say bluntly. I grip her hair harder, and her hands shoot out to my wrist.

A moan garbles in her throat, my cock only barely inside her mouth. She meant to threaten me, and the surprise coats her eyes at the sudden revelation. That she’s more turned on than anything.

I ease out of Rose, my cock popping from her lips. I keep one hand on the tiled wall but the other falls from her hair to her neck.

“I’m doing this wrong,” she says. “I knew I would be awful.”

“You haven’t done anything yet,” I tell her with a smile. “You can’t be awful at nothing.”

“Don’t baby me,” she snaps. “If you’re going to teach me, I want you to do it right. I want to be the best.” She waves me on, her eyes pinned below my waist with challenge and more delight.

If that doesn’t get me hard…fuck. I grow, and her eyes begin to widen, probably wondering how she’s going to fit it into her mouth now.

“You will be the best, darling,” I say. “Hold onto it.” I want to start this way for her. And then I want to do it my way.

She grips the base in that same delicate manner.

“That’s strange,” I say.

“What?” She frowns.

“You threaten to castrate men ten times a day but yet you hold my cock like you want to tuck it into bed.”

Her grip immediately tightens, and my lips part from the sudden sensation. I laugh into my next words. “You’re an excellent pupil so far.”

“I graduated with highest honors,” she says. Yes, I know. I attended her graduation. I saw her walk across the stage and accept her diploma. I was able to witness the look of accomplishment and freedom from four years of hard work and educational slavery. Those memories I hold close.

“You’re a conceited little honor graduate.”

“Little?” She raises her eyes.

“You are shorter than me,” I remind her. “It’s time for you to shut the fuck up and put my cock back in your mouth.”

Her eyes grow hot at my words, but the rest of her body reacts differently. She presses her thighs together. Wanting. Ready.

To make me come.

She takes me inside her mouth again, slowly, not yet halfway before she nearly chokes. With one hand on her head, I readjust Rose and shift my hips so the position is more comfortable for her. This angle works better, and she shuts her eyes while she eases me in a little further. She’s not horrible, but she’s not fantastic either.

She stares off, hesitating.

She’s drowning in her beautiful fucking mind. I don’t want her to think about whether she’s doing something wrong or right. I just want her to feel.

“Take your hands off.”

She glares and tries to pull back to yell. I know she wants to try—to prove to me that she can do it, but that’s not what needs to happen. I hold the back of her head tightly, keeping her here.

“You want to please me? Then do as I say.”

Her eyes narrow, but she releases me. And I use one hand and my hips to guide myself further into her mouth. Fuck. That feels good.

She gags once, and her hands fly to my ass, gripping me hard.

“Rose,” I groan. My strokes are shallow and then they become deeper…deeper until tears seep from the corners of her eyes, her body shaking.

Her legs slowly give out, and her back rests against the warm tiles, the water showering our bodies. I drive into her, my pelvis rocking, having complete control on how much of me she takes between her lips.

Her legs squirm, her toes curling and her chest lifting as I quicken my pace.

“That’s it, darling,” I say with a tight breath. “You’re safe with me.”

After a few minutes, I come and slide out of her quickly.

“Spit,” I tell her, sitting on my knees.

She turns her head and does as I say. She wipes her lips, her breathing heavy. I collect her in my arms, holding her while she digests what happened.

Her own arms wrap around my neck, and she presses her forehead to my collar.

I rub her back, the water slowly turning lukewarm. As she rests on my lap, something strong grips my heart. I’ve never been so possessed by another person before. She consumes my body and mind in ways that I can’t articulate.

I comb her wet hair away from her face.

Right now, I want to kiss the place between her legs more than she can possibly understand. I want to taste her and watch her back arch. To see her reach a peak like I just did. After a couple minutes, I begin to readjust her, spreading her legs on either side of me.

She puts a hand to my chest almost as soon as her ass hits the tiles. “No,” she says, disentangling from me. She stands.

I stay on my knees and frown at her change of heart. I’m confused—and that doesn’t happen often. “You can’t deny what your body responds to. You liked it, and that’s all right, Rose.”

“I know.” She nods with more assurance. “I just don’t need you to give me anything in return. That was for you.”

“I want to make you come.” And I’m going to fucking do it. I hold her ankle and kiss her knee. “You’ll love it. Trust me.”

“I don’t care.” She pries my hand off her leg.

I stand up now, my gaze harsh on hers. “I fucking care.”

“This wasn’t quid pro quo. I wasn’t going to blow you so you could get me off.”

She’s jumped on a new page of our book, and she’s left me to find which one that is. “You’re aroused,” I tell her. “Lie to me and tell me you aren’t going to go back to our room and touch yourself.”

She raises her chin, not backing down.

I could shove her against the wall, watch the breath leave her lips, watch her body respond in vicious hunger. She’d let me please her. But I don’t want to push her to that place without understanding her sudden reservations.

She takes one step towards me and says, “I don’t need you to make me come.” Fear swims to the surface of her piercing eyes.

And it clicks. Just like that. I see the ocean beneath her words, the deeper meaning to everything. I bring her into my arms. I don’t care that her limbs are stiff.

She tries to push me away, and I hold her to my chest in a tight hug. My lips skim her ear as I say forcefully, “Vous avez tort.” You’re wrong.

Her body flushes, and I abruptly release her, shut off the water, and find a towel nearby. I wrap her in the soft cotton while she stares at me, questioningly, wondering if I’m going to elaborate.