wasted times- s.r

THIRTY-EIGHT

The lack of Spencer's presence in your bed the next morning is enough to make you sit upright in bed, glancing around the room for any sign of him. You groggily sit up in bed and make your way into the living room, hearing the faint sound of Spencer laughing on the phone with someone.

You rub your eyes, standing in the doorway of the living room. Spencer makes brief eye contact with you and smiles, absently petting Luna in his lap. You can hear muffled voices on the other side but Spencer stays silent, "Could I possibly call you back later?" You take a seat beside Spencer, seeing him murmur a goodbye before shoving the phone back into the pockets of his sweatpants. 

"Who was that?"

"My mom," his answer is almost immediate. You glance at him curiously, noticing the way he avoids eye contact with you as he focuses his attention on Luna in his lap.

"You don't mention your mom a lot," you say absentmindedly, reaching over to scratch behind Luna's ears. She stands up from Spencer's lap and comes to sit in yours instead. Spencer shrugs, "She lives in Vegas so I don't get to see her much." You nod your head, adjusting your position so you could throw your legs over Spencer's lap. "Are you hungry?" When you nod again, Spencer leans forward to give your forehead a kiss, "I'll go make us some breakfast then."

"I thought you can't cook?"

"I can't," he grins, "But I can try."

He wanders off into the kitchen, Luna jumping off your lap and following behind him. You stand up from the couch and wander into the washroom, re-tying your hair up and brushing your teeth quickly. You're surprised when you walk into the kitchen and don't find your kitchen on fire. "Your eggs were expired so I threw them out."

He slides a bowl of cereal in front of you, both of you eating it in relative silence at the island. Spencer's skimming through a newspaper, and you can occasionally hear the sound of the page-turning as he moves on. When you're done, you place the dishes in the sink and feel Spencer's arms come to wrap around your torso, peppering your neck with kisses. You laugh lowly when Spencer pushes his hips against yours to make you feel the forming bulge in his sweatpants.

"Spencer, we have to be at work in an hour."

"Is that a challenge, pretty girl?" He murmurs against your neck, hands sliding up your shirt to grope your chest. He bites your earlobe softly and you slowly feel any self-restraint going down the drain. "We need to-- We have to be quick," you breathe out.

"You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that." Spencer grips your upper thighs and lifts you up onto the counter, your legs immediately wrapping around his hips and pulling him close to you so his covered erection is pressed up right against your center. He pounces his lips on yours, sliding his tongue past your lips and tangling his hands in your hair, giving it a harsh tug and jutting your head toward the ceiling. You grip his head as he trails sloppy kisses down your neck, lifting your shirt up above your head and tossing it on the floor. He trails his lips down your chest, wrapping his lip around one of your nipples and toying with the other with his hand, switching to give the other one just as much attention.

Your hands blindly reach for the drawstring of his sweatpants, pulling them down to his thighs along with his boxers and sliding his shirt over his head, dragging your nails down his chest, admiring the small red lines left behind. "Someone's impatient," he murmurs, sliding your panties and shorts down your legs quickly, the cool marble countertop cooling down your skin which feels like it's on fire.

He trails his finger down your slit, gathering the wetness there on his fingertips, "Do you think you're ready for me, pretty girl?" You nod your head and let out a pathetic whimper, feeling Spencer push his fingers in your mouth, watching you suck them clean. He runs the tip of his dick along your entrance, slowly pushing inside you.