Page 91 of Fallen Rook

He grabbed my chin and turned me sideways, our mouths fusing together, feeding one another tongues, saliva, and grunts of pleasure.

“Tell me you’ve missed me,” I whimpered.

“I missed you.”

“Tell me you were jealous.”

“I was so fucking jealous.”

“And you thought about me the entire time.”

“I did,” he grunted with a thrust. “Fuck, kid, I fixed dishwashers and changed lightbulbs to try to keep my mind off you,” Tom crooned.

“Tell me I’m your favorite.”

He paused. My heart stuttered to a halt. For a second, I thought he’d refuse me and ruin the moment. But then came his soft, husky reply: “You’re not just my favorite, Butterfly. You’re my only.”

Butterfly.

He’d given me an actual nickname.

I rocked against him, sliding my tongue into his mouth again, kissing him deeper. His hand feathered down my pecs, along my abs, until it found my cock and fisted it. He started pumping me, his movements becoming jerkier. The pleasure was blinding. It was under my skin, swimming in my head, in the musk of our bodies and arousal and sweat.

“No,” I whined into our kiss, my balls tightening and the familiar tingle in the base of my spine telling me I was close. “I don’t want it to end so fast.”

“Sorry, Butterfly. I’m already coming.”

“Oh, fuck yeah. So am I.”

“Wait until I’m finished.”

His hips shook and jerked as he emptied himself inside me, and then he ripped himself out of my ass in a flash, spinning me around and going down on his knees, sucking my orgasm out of me.

His lips were on my root as he took my cock deep. I grabbed the edges of the table behind me, a sharp groan ripping from my mouth as I pumped into his throat a few times and came inside his mouth. The moment I was done, I sank to my knees in front of him and kissed him hard. All my cum was still in his mouth, so we were sharing the earthy liquid as it trickled down both our chins.

So fucking hot.

How could something so right be perceived as wrong?

He grabbed the back of my neck, tilting my head to him. “You good, kid?”

I nodded. Every single thing this time was communicated in advance while he drove here.

Every. Single. Thing.

He kissed my lips again, collapsing on top of me with a grunt, murmuring something incoherent about butterflies.

This time, I did have a shower, and when I got out, I even smelled coffee. My eyes searched for Tom in the living room. For a moment, a jolt of fear that he’d pissed off to his place again rattled in my chest. But then I looked beyond the glass door leading to my small balcony and saw him sitting on one of the two sunbeds, drinking coffee.

I lit myself a cigarette and joined him on the terrace, plopping on the sunbed next to him. We both watched the sunrise swelling, pulsating, spilling onto the city like a yolky egg. The cold didn’t bother me, even though I was shirtless.

I blew the smoke sideways, wondering if there would be more sunrises in our future together, or if we would find a way to piss each other off again and break up.

“Smoking’s a filthy habit.” Tom grabbed my sunbed and yanked it closer to him, tossing an arm around my shoulders possessively.

“I’m a dirty boy,” I bit back, ignoring the butterflies in the pit of my stomach.

“A dirty boy whom I’d like to annoy me for many years to come,” Tom retorted. “You should quit.”