The refrigerator hums behind him. The silence between us is anything but deafening. Every noise — the appliances, the dog’s tags jingling as he scratches, the commercial on the television in the living room — is crystal clear. My nose runs as hot tears roll down my face.
His hand disappears into his sleeve and he wipes my face with his shirt. “I hate when you cry.”
“Yeah,” I hit his shoulder. “Me too.”
“Come here.” He pulls me into him and my face finds the familiar resting place in the crook of his neck. His arms around me are heavy and warm. With a deep sigh I let everything go and my arms wrap around him as well. He kisses my forehead. “I love you. You know that?”
“Of course I know that. It was just a fight.”
He kisses down the side of my face. “I think about you all day.”His lips linger on my neck, my soft spot, my weak spot. His breath is humid but smells of a sweet mint.
“I think about you too, babe.” I release a yummy moan as he trails over my shoulder and across my chest.
“I think about how beautiful you are,” his fingers drag the fabric of my skirt up. “How lucky I am to sleep next to you every night.” He grabs my ass and lifts me onto the granite countertop. “That I get to touch you.” He pulls my panties down and they fall to the tile floor. “And taste you,” he mumbles with his tongue circling my clit.
I spread my thighs for him more, scooting to the edge of the counter for maximum exposure. The back of my head rests against the cabinet as he takes his time apologizing. He is tormentingly passive, using only the first knuckle of one finger to tease me. He ignites my passion with a slow burn.
“Fuck me,” I whisper.
“No.” Another mumble.
“What,” I chuckle.
He nibbles my pussy lips and looks up at me. “Tell me I was right first.”
An eruption of laughter from me echoes in the galley kitchen. “No fucking way.”
He shrugs and continues to eat my pussy. His fingertip glides over my clit, slowly increasing in speed. I can see the head of his dick pressed between him and the waistband of his jeans; a trick for hiding erections he’d shared with me that usually works when he wears a shirt. My big toe pokes it but he brushes my foot away with his hand.
“Come on, baby. I know you want to.”
He grunts and sticks his tongue in deeper. His warm, wet mouth bathes me down and slurps me up. Not one, but two of his fingers penetrate me with a twist, rapidly coiling inside before unscrewing out. His thumb crashes into my clit with every thrust.
“Oh god!” I scream. “Put your big dick inside me!”
I try to move away but my skin sticks to the granite. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Tell me I’m right and I’ll fuck you.” He stops the movement but leaves his fingers inside me. “Or I won’t let you finish.”
“For the love of…”
He grabs my hair on the back of my head hard and kisses me. His handiwork continues as he fluctuates between bites and licks upon my collarbone.
“Fine,” I yell. “You’re right.”
He looks around the empty kitchen, nodding and winking at an imaginary audience. He lowers me to the floor and positions each of my hands on the edge of the open doorway and pulls my skirt back up so it rests on my lower back. The head of his thick cock rests at the precipice of my pussy. He leans over me and lowers his condescending voice. “You know, honey. It’s not about who’s right, and who’s wrong.”
He is relentless and his rigid dick pounds into me as hard and fast. My legs give out as I orgasm but his hands hold me up by my hips. He pushes me back towards the countertop and my upper half collapses onto the cool stone.
A smack on my ass from his dick, wet with my cum, leaves a chill on me. He leans over me again, “It’s about who gives up first.” He shoves his cock deep within me. He fucks and humps and fucks more and my pussy feels raw and sore. The oven clock digitally ticks the minutes by till the next hour.
“Stop,” my voice is dry. “Cum now or forever hold your ejaculant.”
He laughs and slows to deep penetration, rubbing my back and caressing my ass. He moans and I feel him orgasm. He collapses on top of me and wraps his arms around my torso, shielding my breast from the cold surface. “I don’t even remember what we were fighting about.”
“You taking to long to get stuff finished.”