I do as he says and before I can catch my next breath, his tongue is swirling over my clit, his fingers spreading me wide.
“Oh Jason,” I moan, feeling a wave of arousal hit me, igniting my body into a fiery inferno.
He wastes no time in swirling his tongue over and over, flattening it and then flicking it until my body is so wound up, I’m seconds from coming.
He must see the tension coiling inside me because right when I’m a moment from finding euphoria, he stops and removes his pants. He brings his cock to my entrance and says, “I need to be inside you. Now.”
He pushes himself in until he bottoms out, both of us groaning together at the sensation.
“Fuck, Dottie . . . Do you feel this? This connection we have?”
“Yes,” I whisper, barely able to get my voice to work as he starts pumping his hips, filling me up so much that I feel like he’s sucking the breath right from my lungs.
“This isn’t going anywhere. I’m not going anywhere. Are you?”
I shake my head.
“Say it,” he barks out through his teeth, the pressure building between us.
“I’m . . . oh God—” He thrusts hard, his balls slapping against me, his hand falling to my clit where he rubs it, bringing me to the edge. “Jason . . . yes.”
“Say it, Dottie.”
“I’m, fuck . . . I’m not going . . . anywhere.”
“Damn right you’re not.” He plows into me, and I can feel us inching up the carpet with each thrust, but I don’t care about the rug burn, or how twisted my clothes are at this point, because all I care about is being with this man.
Loving this man.
He’s everything I could have ever dreamed of and so much more.
When I say I’m never leaving, I’m not. He’s it for me.
My man.
My Jason.
Chapter Ninety-Two
JASON
I glance around the apartment.
Coast is clear.
I lift up the apron Dottie got me that says “Eat my food, Lick my dick” and hold the freshly polished spoon in front of my junk.
Clear as day I see my rod and nuggets dangling upside down, happy to be attached to this machine of a body.
“What are you doing?”
“Shhhh-it,” I say, scrambling to drop my apron, the spoon clattering to the floor. Great. Now I’m going to have to polish it again.
“Were you checking out your penis in the spoon reflection?” Dottie asks, appearing from her bedroom in a robe and nothing else. Her hair is down and in waves, her makeup subtle but highlighting her gorgeous eyes, and she smells like a goddamn field of flowers.
“I was.” I take the spoon in hand and start polishing it again. “The only way to tell if your silverware has been properly polished is if you can see the reflection of your junk in it.”
Pause.
Blink.
“Charming.” She bites her bottom lip and looks around the apartment. “I should have had those cleaners come back to the apartment. It doesn’t look clean enough. Does it look clean enough?”
“Dottie, the apartment looks phenomenal. Stop stressing and try to relax.”
“I don’t think I’ll relax until this is over.”
“Hey”—I point the spoon at her—“you said if I cooked naked, you wouldn’t be so tense.”
She smiles shamefully at me and says, “I lied.”
“You’re telling me my ass has been hanging out this entire time for no reason? Do you realize how unsanitary that is?”
“Are you stirring with your butt muscles?”
“No . . . but that seems like a party trick I’m willing to dedicate some time to in order to master.”
“Please don’t.” She chuckles and then lets out a long breath. “Maybe I just need to get my mind off things.”
“I can do that for you.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her.
She looks down at my crotch and then back up at me. “You literally came an hour ago. And this morning—twice—before I left for work. How could you possibly want sex again?”
“Dottie, I will always want sex with you,” I say. “Always.” She’s the reason I’m perpetually horny. Her body, her mind, her sass, her mouth . . . every part of her calls to me. It always will.
She smiles and walks over to me, her robe shifting back and forth, giving me peeks of her cleavage. When she stands a few inches from me, she lowers her hands to my bare ass and gives it a small squeeze while placing a kiss on my jaw.
“You are the best man I know. Do you realize that?”
“Tell me more.”
One hand falls to the front of my apron and slips under the canvas fabric to my growing erection. She casually strokes my length while bringing her mouth to mine.
“You are so good to me.” Her finger swirls around the head of my cock. “Take care of me.” She brushes down and then back up to swirl. Teeth nip my jaw. “Make me laugh.” Pushes my apron to the side and with the hand that’s squeezing my ass, she holds the loose fabric out of the way so my dick is hanging out in the open. “Make me swoon.” Slowly she moves her body south until her mouth is directly in front of my already aching arousal. “And you always make me horny.”
That’s something I can’t hear enough. She opens her mouth and is about to take me in when I lift her up and spin her around instead. Not even needing to be told what to do, she undoes her robe, lets it fall to the floor, and then braces both her hands on the counter while sticking her ass in the air.
“Jesus Christ, Dottie,” I mutter while dragging my hand over my mouth. I push her long black hair to the side so I can see her elegant neck, lean forward, and insert my cock inside her while placing kisses along her shoulder blade.
Reaching around, I grab both her tits and play with her nipples, rolling them and squeezing them, loving how a simple touch can spur her on even more. She backs into me, moving her pelvis, riding my cock to her own pleasure. I let her find her pleasure, let her take control, or at least, let her think she’s in control.
“God, Jason, you make me so hot.” She’s swiveling her hips now and lowers her hand to her clit where she plays with it, her cries of pleasure reverberating against the cabinets in the kitchen. “Yes, yes,” she breathes out. “Oh my God, Jason.”
My balls ache as my stomach bottoms out, my orgasm coming out of nowhere. I grab her hips and pump hard a few times before she cries out my name, her pussy spasming around my cock, forcing my own orgasm.
I roar against her back, my hips stilling as I come inside her, moving her hips until I’ve completely spilled every last ounce of my passion.
“Christ,” I breathe against her back, laughing at the same time. “That was unexpected.”
She chuckles. “And unsanitary.”
I kiss between her shoulder blades and spin her around. “All the food is on the other side of the kitchen or in the oven. We’re good.” I cup her cheeks and kiss her on the lips. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yes. Thank you.” With another kiss, she turns and opens her computer that’s on the counter and says, “I’m going to clean up and then answer some emails. Is dinner almost—”