electrical outlet above the counter while his cockhead nudged my hole. Slippery. I shivered and relaxed into the countertop, doing my best to enjoy the anticipation. We'd never done it in the kitchen before. Every other room but. It was too cluttered, with nowhere comfortable to sit. Not even a table, just a couple of barstools and a little ledge. Maybe I could do something on the ledge if I was feeling acrobatic.
"Oh, fuck. Yeah," Jacob said. My brain shut off as he shoved in. It burned. It was amazing. I wanted to grab my cock and bring myself off fast, but I didn't. I stared at that electrical outlet and focused outside myself, so Jacob had time to give me the reach-around. Clock. Microwave. Coffee maker. Coffee grinder.
What if one of 'em fell into the sink while he was pile-driving me and I ended up electrocuted? Not that there was any water present. But the lethalness of the combination of electricity and sinks is hard-wired into our primordial lizard brains, so that just seeing the two of them at the same time is enough to leave me thinking about biology class and twitching frogs....
"Uhn, God, Vic. So good. Fuck."
Jacob took a fistful of my hair and shoved my face into the coffee maker while he jammed his cock in deep, setting a rhythm of slow, steady thrusts. Good. Yes. I should be focusing on him, and not the macabre dance of electricity through dead limbs. So why couldn't I stop thinking about it?
"That feel good? Huh? You feel that?"
I walked my feet out as far as the pants around my ankles would let me and shuddered as a hot bead of oil rolled down the back of my thigh. "Fucking hot," I mumbled into my forearm. "Fuck me harder."
Jacob went ballistic because I'd managed to string together more than two words while he was fucking me. He grabbed my cock with an oil slick palm and pumped it hard—cripes, harder than usual, and the pain was sparkly white around the edges of my vision and everything, my cock, my balls, my ass, clenched up rock-hard while I started peaking.
Jacob's cock hammered at my ass while he chanted something like, "Nn, yeah, nn, yeah..." and his whole body folded over my back, touching me everywhere he could possibly touch. I wouldn't have thought I'd like it, since I'm so twitchy about being restrained. But when Jacob wraps his body around mine, I feel more like he's shielding me than engulfing me.
I made another crazy noise—I'm not sure if I was going for a word or not—and my cock throbbed in his greasy, tight fist.
I shot into the cabinet door and, fuck, so good, like I'd come and come and come, and he was bearing all my weight, him and the countertop, and there I was bucking like an electrocuted frog corpse.
"God," he gasped against the back of my neck. "I love you."
Oh.
I breathed carefully.
He'd said it. First.
"Yeah," I managed. "You, too." And it sounded so fucking stupid as it came out of my mouth, off guard and reactionary, and I wondered how he could possibly be satisfied with something like that. Sure, it's all about my ass when he's talking dirty, but obviously it can't be all that special.
Everyone's got one, after all. It's the whole package he was after. The weird shit I said, and did, and saw.
I didn't know why he wanted that. Just thinking about it made my brain hurt.
I craned my head around and he met me with a kiss that barely reached, his hand still moving gently over my cock, which was settling down after its big fireworks. His come was hot and tacky on the backs of my thighs. I brushed his lips with mine and tried again. "I love you, too," I whispered.
Better.
Chapter Four
I'd seen Jacob stand up to various frightening people, from Sergeant Warwick to Roger Burke—police officer turned criminal—to his unflinching and perpetually sour Grandma Marks. But I hadn't been prepared for watching him tear a new one into his realtor. In a very quiet and controlled voice, of course, that got scarier and scarier the lower it went.
"Did you even look at this
"Oh, fuck. Yeah," Jacob said. My brain shut off as he shoved in. It burned. It was amazing. I wanted to grab my cock and bring myself off fast, but I didn't. I stared at that electrical outlet and focused outside myself, so Jacob had time to give me the reach-around. Clock. Microwave. Coffee maker. Coffee grinder.
What if one of 'em fell into the sink while he was pile-driving me and I ended up electrocuted? Not that there was any water present. But the lethalness of the combination of electricity and sinks is hard-wired into our primordial lizard brains, so that just seeing the two of them at the same time is enough to leave me thinking about biology class and twitching frogs....
"Uhn, God, Vic. So good. Fuck."
Jacob took a fistful of my hair and shoved my face into the coffee maker while he jammed his cock in deep, setting a rhythm of slow, steady thrusts. Good. Yes. I should be focusing on him, and not the macabre dance of electricity through dead limbs. So why couldn't I stop thinking about it?
"That feel good? Huh? You feel that?"
I walked my feet out as far as the pants around my ankles would let me and shuddered as a hot bead of oil rolled down the back of my thigh. "Fucking hot," I mumbled into my forearm. "Fuck me harder."
Jacob went ballistic because I'd managed to string together more than two words while he was fucking me. He grabbed my cock with an oil slick palm and pumped it hard—cripes, harder than usual, and the pain was sparkly white around the edges of my vision and everything, my cock, my balls, my ass, clenched up rock-hard while I started peaking.
Jacob's cock hammered at my ass while he chanted something like, "Nn, yeah, nn, yeah..." and his whole body folded over my back, touching me everywhere he could possibly touch. I wouldn't have thought I'd like it, since I'm so twitchy about being restrained. But when Jacob wraps his body around mine, I feel more like he's shielding me than engulfing me.
I made another crazy noise—I'm not sure if I was going for a word or not—and my cock throbbed in his greasy, tight fist.
I shot into the cabinet door and, fuck, so good, like I'd come and come and come, and he was bearing all my weight, him and the countertop, and there I was bucking like an electrocuted frog corpse.
"God," he gasped against the back of my neck. "I love you."
Oh.
I breathed carefully.
He'd said it. First.
"Yeah," I managed. "You, too." And it sounded so fucking stupid as it came out of my mouth, off guard and reactionary, and I wondered how he could possibly be satisfied with something like that. Sure, it's all about my ass when he's talking dirty, but obviously it can't be all that special.
Everyone's got one, after all. It's the whole package he was after. The weird shit I said, and did, and saw.
I didn't know why he wanted that. Just thinking about it made my brain hurt.
I craned my head around and he met me with a kiss that barely reached, his hand still moving gently over my cock, which was settling down after its big fireworks. His come was hot and tacky on the backs of my thighs. I brushed his lips with mine and tried again. "I love you, too," I whispered.
Better.
Chapter Four
I'd seen Jacob stand up to various frightening people, from Sergeant Warwick to Roger Burke—police officer turned criminal—to his unflinching and perpetually sour Grandma Marks. But I hadn't been prepared for watching him tear a new one into his realtor. In a very quiet and controlled voice, of course, that got scarier and scarier the lower it went.
"Did you even look at this
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