“You called me pretty.” She smiles and fuck, it’s adorable.
“Well, you are. Really fucking pretty, especially with your hair all rumpled and while you’re wearing my shirt from last night.”
She presses one more kiss to my lips and then takes off to the table where she sits, crossing one leg over the other. My shirt parts open, exposing her chest.
“Do you expect me to eat pancakes while you’re dressed like that?” I ask motioning to her exposed breasts.
She glances down and then back up at me. “Figured it’s easier than you trying to muster up some X-ray vision to try to see through my shirt like you have over the past few weeks.” And there’s that sass I’ve missed.
I finish up the plates and take them to the table where I set them down and take a seat across from her. “How do you know I didn’t figure out X-ray vision?”
“Because.” She picks up her fork. “Last night when you saw my boobs, your eyes nearly popped out of your head. If you had X-ray vision, your reaction would have been different.”
“They did not pop out of my head.”
“They did.” She nods. “And then your head lifted up, twisted around while you said Awooga and made air kisses.”
I lean back in my chair and stare her down. “Are you always like this after you get thoroughly fucked?”
A smirk peeks past her lips. “Not sure. I’ve never been thoroughly fucked before.”
The heat in my body spikes, a caveman-like mentality taking over as I think about being the only man that’s truly pleasured Ruth.
“Have you orgasmed with other men?”
She shrugs. “Maybe a few times. Nothing that’s blown my mind.”
I take a bite of my pancakes and say, “Are you saying I blew your mind last night?”
She finishes chewing her mouthful and then slices her fork through her pancake for another bite. “You know, Brig, I never thought you would be an after-sex gloater. I’m surprised.”
“I’m not gloating. But if you want me to, I can.” I take a sip of my coffee, clearing my throat. “Last night, you were moaning so loud, I was worried Port Snow was going to think it was the emergency sirens sounding off.”
She sits back in her chair, folds her arms over her chest.
Studies me.
Brings her coffee cup to her lips.
“Now I see why you haven’t had sex in a while. Your morning-after game is lacking.”
“Ooof.” I lean back, hand to my heart. “When you strike, you strike hard.” I chuckle, and so does she.
From over her mug, she keeps eye contact with me, her eyes darkening, the corner of her lips tilting up. “You blew my mind last night, Brig.”
Well . . . hell.
I can’t hold back my smile, no matter how hard I try. “I think it’s safe to say you blew my mind too.”
She looks down at her coffee and quietly says, “I’ve never done it without protection before.” She glances at me.
“Neither have I.” I swallow hard. “I think it’s why I was so . . . quick on the trigger.”
She chuckles. “You weren’t quick on the trigger and were quite the gentleman, letting me come first.”
I push my hand through my hair. “Almost didn’t make it when you were on top of me.”
“You liked that?” she asks, shifting in her chair so the shirt falls off her shoulder, exposing an expanse of skin that is marred with beard burn and . . . hell, I marked her last night.
I stand from my chair and round the small table where I sit on the edge and run my thumb over the bite mark on her collarbone. “Did I hurt you?”
She shakes her head. “No. You made me crazy with need.”
Arousal spikes through my body as my hand travels down her shoulder.
“Seeing you on top of me, writhing, your tits bouncing . . .” I drag my hand over my mouth. “Hell, Ruthie.”
Her hand slides up my leg as she leans forward, the shirt barely even covering her now as it falls off both of her shoulders.
“I loved watching you come undone.” Her hand travels higher. I’m only wearing a pair of sweatpants right now and I’m fucking hard, so she doesn’t have to run her hand over my cock to realize that.
And yet, she still does.
My hands grip the edge of the table. I suck in a hiss when her hand connects with my length. My chest muscles flex with anticipation as her eyes travel up my corded torso.
She licks her lips.
She slowly blinks.
And . . . fuck . . . I need her again.
Not saying anything, she rises from her seat and steps between my legs. With one flick of my hand, I undo the only button securing my shirt on her, and then push it off her body, exposing the soft skin I dragged my tongue all over last night.
I take her breasts in my hands and smooth my palms over her nipples. She sucks in a sharp breath and moves closer. Her hand slides under the waistband of my sweats and connects with my erection.
“You’re so big, Brig.” She glances up at me. “You fill me perfectly.”
Fuck, that’s an understatement. When I moved inside her last night, it felt so goddamn right. It scared me how right it felt.
I push my sweats to the floor and step out of them, releasing my erection.
Holding my hand out, I say, “Want to take a shower?”
Her eyes smolder, her mouth slightly parts, and she nods.
We walk to my bathroom where I flip on the shower and wait for it to get warm. When I turn toward her, I catch her staring at my chest.
“Care to compliment?” I ask.
She chuckles and sighs, resting her hand on my left pec. “Is it weird to say I like your chest hair?”
“No, I like all compliments.” I push her hair behind her ear. “So big dick, great chest hair, what else?”
“You’re ridiculous.” She laughs when I scoop her up and bring her into the shower stall, which I just had redone with marble tiling and multiple showerheads. The warm water sprays across my back and I maneuver her around so she’s soaked in seconds.
“Oh God, that feels good,” she says, lifting her arms up and running them through her wet hair.
And holy . . . fuck.
Water slices over her body, dribbles off her erect nipples, drips down her flat abdomen and between her legs, exactly where I want to be.
I grab the bar of soap off my soap ledge and hand it to her. Then I lean against the tile and say, “Soap me up, Ruthie.”
Smiling slyly, she lathers her hands with the bar, sets it down, and then moves her hands to my body where she grabs my cock right away.
Christ.
Hands behind me, I hold still as she pulls on my cock, alternating hands, applying enough pressure to make me slowly shake beneath her.
“Your hands are fucking perfect,” I say, my head falling to the tile.
Stroking me, she travels one hand underneath my cock, straight to my balls where she lightly plays with them. And when she tugs with both hands at the same time, I nearly fly off the wall.
“Whoa, Ruthie. I—”
She does it again.
“Jesus . . . fuck.” I grip her hips. “Ruthie, you can’t—”
Again.
“Fuh-uck,” I breathe.
One more time, and then she’s moved against the wall, her tits plastered to the tile, my body up against hers.