The apron? Well, we were having a little trouble with that one.
“Are you a sailor? Who tied this knot, Popeye?” he seethed, struggling to get it undone. In his struggles, he managed to knock over a bowl of orange marmalade glaze, which now dripped down the table and on to the floor. My contribution was to flip over a carton of raisins while I craned my neck trying to see the knot behind me.
“Oh, screw the apron, Simon. Look here,” I insisted, snapping the front of my bra and tossing it to the floor. I pulled down the top of the apron, arranging and propping up my cleavage. Pie eyed, he looked at my now-naked breasts and went in for the kill. I was pushed roughly back on to the table once more, his insistent mouth now dragging down my neck, attacking my skin like it had done something personal to him and he was exacting his revenge. And a lustful revenge it was.
Dipping a finger into the marmalade puddle, he traced a path from one breast to the other, circling and pressing the sticky into my skin.
Bending his head, he tasted one, then the other, both of us groaning at the same time.
“Mmm, you taste good.”
“I’m glad I wasn’t making hot wings. This could be a different story—wow, that’s nice.” I sighed as he responded to my smart-assery with an actual bite.
“These would be extra spicy.”
He laughed as I rolled my eyes.
“Want me to get some celery to cool you down?” I asked.
“No one’s cooling down in this apartment, not anytime soon,” he promised, grabbing the jar of honey from the nearby counter and pulling aside my apron. Without missing a beat, he got my panties all wet. And not in the way you think, although there was that…
As I watched, he poured the honey all over me, covering my panties and making me squeal. He stood back to admire. “Look at that, those are ruined. They’re going to have to come off,” he said as he came close again. I stopped him with a marmalade foot.
“You first, Mr. Man,” I instructed, nodding at his flour-covered boxers. He raised an eyebrow, and dropped the boxers. Standing naked in my wreck of a kitchen, he was insanely cute.
In that instant, Heart, Brain, Backbone, and LC lined up on one side of the playground. They beckoned for Nerves, waving her over like a game of Red Rover. I looked at Simon, naked and floury and perfect, and I sighed with a giant smile. Nerves finally, blessedly, scampered over, and we were finally all on the same page.
“I fucking love you, Simon.”
“I love you too, Nightie Girl. Now lose the panties and gimme some sugar.”
“Come and get it,” I laughed, sitting up and sliding my panties down my honey-dripped legs. I threw them at him, and they hit his chest with a loud thwack, the honey dripping everywhere.
“We’re going to need one hell uva shower after all this,” I remarked as he wrapped me in his sticky arms.
“That’ll be round two.” He smiled, picking me up and carrying me to the bedroom, my body aligned with his, only the apron between us. And that wasn’t going to keep us apart for long.
Did I need an O? I mean, was it necessary for life? Being near Simon, being so close to him, wrapped up in his arms and feeling him move inside me, was it enough?
For now, it was. I loved him, you see…
He dropped me on the bed, and I bounced a little, rolling sideways and making the headboard bang a bit.
“You gonna bang my walls, Simon?” I laughed.
“You have no idea,” he promised, and scrunched my apron out of the way as I sighed and threw my arms over my head. I lazed backward, with a giant smile on my face. His fingers walked down over my tummy, my hips, my thighs, finally reaching me. After a gentle nudge, I let my legs fall open. He licked his lips and sank to his knees.
He touched and tasted me as he had in Spain, but it was different. It still felt amazing, but I was different. I was relaxed. Twisting and turning his fingers, he found that spot, the one that made my back arch and my moans grow deep. He groaned into me, causing me to arch off the bed again, his lips and tongue finding me once more, deliberate. My hands sought my breasts, and as he watched, I teased my nipples, bringing them taut once more.
Again, I had the distinct honor of feeling his mouth, his wonderful mouth, on me. I seized up, my entire body tensing at the sizzle of energy that ran through me, and then I relaxed once more. I started to feel, really feel everything going on inside at that moment. Love. I felt love. And I felt loved…
Here in the daytime, where nothing could be hidden, everything was on display—and covered in messy stuff—I was being loved by this man.
No fairy tale, no waves crashing, no flickering candles. Real life. A real life fairy tale where I was being loved by this man. And I mean looooved by this man.
Tongue. Lips. Fingers. Hands. All of it dedicated to me and my pleasure. A girl could get used to this.
I could feel the sweet tension begin to build, but this time my body received it differently. My body, perfectly in tune for once, was ready, and in my mind, behind closed eyes, I saw myself begin to approach that cliff. In my head, I grinned, because I knew this time I was gonna catch that bitch.
And then? Really amazing things began to happen down below. Long gorgeous fingers pressed inside me, twisting, and curving, and finding that secret spot. Lips and tongue encircled that other spot, sucking and licking, pressing and pulsing. Tiny pricks of light began to dance behind my eyelids, intense and wild.
“Oh, God…Simon…that’s so…good…don’t…stop…don’t…stop…”
I groaned loud, louder, and then louder still, unable to contain the sounds I was making. It was so good, so good, so very, very good, so close, so close…
And then the screaming began. And it was not my own.
Out of the corner of my eye, I became aware of some kind of furry missile racing across the floor.
Like some kind of pussified dive bomb, Clive ran at Simon, leaped, and dug into his back, attacking him from behind.
Simon ran from the bedroom into the hallway, then back in again, Clive still latched on like some kind of rabid coonskin back cap that would not shake off. He had his arms—does a cat have arms?—wrapped around Simon’s neck in a way that under other circumstances would have seemed like an adorable cat hug. But right now, he meant business.
I ran after them, naked except for my apron, trying to get Simon to slow down, but with those ten claws digging deeper in, he continued running from room to room.
The irony that Simon was literally trying to run away from pussy was not lost on me.
If I could have watched from outside, rather than being involved, I would have peed myself. As it was, I was having a hard time stifling myself listening to Simon’s screams. I really must love him.
Finally, I backed them both into a corner, turned Simon around, resisted the urge to squeeze buns, and pried Clive loose. I quickly headed out to the living room and deposited him on the sofa with a thunk, patting him on the head once as a thank you for the defense, unwarranted as it was.
Clive responded with a prideful meow and began licking his whiskers.
I went back into the kitchen to find Simon, still huddled against the wall. I appraised him, his eyes wild as he leaned against the wall, wincing at his back. My gaze was drawn lower. Unbelievable.
He
Was
still
Hard.
He saw my eyes travel down his body, reminiscent of the first time we met face to face. He nodded sheepishly.
“You’re still hard,” I blurted, breathing heavily as I tried once more to untie my apron.
“Yeah.”
“That’s amazing.”
“You’re amazing.”
“Ah, fuck,” I huffed, giving up on the knot.
“Yes, please.”
I paused for a split second, then whirled the apron around to my back in one swift movement. I leaped across the room, my apron flying behind me like a low-rider cape and crashed into him, driving him up against the wall as I assaulted him. He caught me as I wrapped around him like a feisty blanket, kissing him furiously. My nails raked down his chest, and he gasped.