Patchwork Paradise(72)

“Oh, please,” I said, waving my hand in the air. “It’s not the baby who messes up my house.”

Thomas made a mock-outraged face and rolled over and pushed me back into the bed. “I see how it is,” he said, his eyes twinkling in the soft moonlight. “You’re using me for my adorable son.”

“You got that right.”

I laughed when he began to kiss-bite my neck, and we kissed lazily after that until I fell asleep.



It was barely dawn when I struggled out of sleep. Very pale sunlight touched my closed eyelids, and I cursed the curtains I’d forgotten to close the night before. I was also chilly since I’d managed to lose all the covers. For a second I thought about groping around to wrap myself back up, but the effort seemed too much. I was lying half on my stomach, half clutching a pillow, one leg pulled up. I had morning wood a lumberjack would be jealous of. My brain felt foggy with lust, and remnants of a very weird erotic dream clung to the edges of my memory. Something to do with being comfortably adrift in warm water, where a very friendly, tentacle-y plant was getting closely acquainted with my— Oh my God.

Something wet touched my *, and I squeaked, but a pair of firm hands came down on my buttocks and held me fast. I looked over my shoulder to see Thomas lying between my spread legs, and he licked me again.

“Jesus,” I whispered weakly. A hot flush raced up my body, and I buried my face in the pillow. He spread my cheeks farther, languidly sliding his tongue over my *, and I quivered all over. “Ah, God.” He did it again, and then again, and then he speared his tongue into me. “Oh my God, Thomas.”

I scrabbled at the sheets, bit the pillow, bunched up the covers with my toes. His fingers gave my ass a light squeeze, the is-this-okay kind, and my entire body heated with embarrassment and arousal. He hesitated. I opened my mouth to say Don’t stop, but no sound came out. So instead, I lifted my hips a little and pushed back against his mouth. My face flushed even hotter.

No one had ever done this to me. For me. No one. I moaned when he licked me again, tickled me with his tongue, nibbled on my taint. He touched my balls, and I made a bewildered, turned-on noise. I heard the click of a cap over the harshness of my own breathing, and spread my thighs farther.

“Fuck, Ollie.” Thomas bit the swell of my ass, and I was glad to hear he sounded as wrecked as I felt. “This okay?”

I nodded into the pillow because deliberate words were still beyond my brain capacity. He held my ass spread with one hand, pushed his tongue into my hole, and followed it with a slick, thick finger. I moaned brokenly as he worked his way inside, and white light exploded behind my eyelids. Every time he moved, I thought I’d come, but I didn’t. Instead he expertly kept me on the edge of the abyss, opening me up in ways I couldn’t even keep count of, until all I knew was that I needed him, and I needed him in me right this second.

“Fuck me,” I croaked. “Thomas, I want it. Now.”

“Ollie . . .” he whispered almost reverently. I heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper, the slick noise of more lube, and then blunt pressure I’d learned to breathe through, yet it felt so different. He entered me slowly, and I couldn’t hold back the guttural moan as he bottomed out. I kept breathing evenly as my body adjusted to him. He ran a hand over my flank, down my spine, over my arm, until he could lace our fingers together. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I reached down and rubbed my free hand along his thigh, felt the flex of his muscles, and twisted my head to the side. The kiss he offered was slightly awkward, but I didn’t care. He stared into my eyes and began to move, slowly. He never looked away. I saw everything: how vulnerable he was, how awed, how in love. A reflection of what I felt on the inside, right there so clear in his gaze.

He f*cked me tenderly at first, finding his way, learning my body, then a little harder when he understood how I liked it.

It didn’t take long before we were covered in a sheen of sweat, and the friction on my cock became almost too much to bear.

“I’m going to come soon,” I whispered, “if you keep going like that.”

“Not yet,” he said and took his weight off me. At first I didn’t get what he wanted, but he guided me with soft touches until we were both sitting up, me in his lap, and understanding dawned. “This okay?” he asked.

I turned my head and looked at him. Thomas still wasn’t hiding anything. He was worried and a little scared, and God—I loved him.

“Oh yeah,” I murmured and lifted my arm so I could cup the back of his head. I kissed him deeply, and he began to f*ck me harder, flesh on flesh, the slapping noise unmistakable, but I was too far gone to care. A hot burn raged in my belly, and pleasure sparked up my spine and down my legs. My cock hung too heavy and thick to stand upright, and was dripping a steady thread of clear liquid onto the sheets. We were slick with sweat now, and I had a fraction of awareness left to be really impressed with how Thomas had managed to keep his rhythm for this long and this hard.

He had his hands on my chest, holding us both upright. “Make yourself come,” he panted in my ear.

I shook my head. “Don’t need to.”

I keened when his rhythm faltered for barely a second, and then he kept going, harder than before, the tempo nearly punishing. I wanted to say almost and that’s it and oh God, but I didn’t have the breath for it. Broken, cut-off moans kept falling from my mouth, but I was almost—there—