Into the Specter

Chapter 23

The moment you crack open the kitchen window, the sweet smell of rain rushes in. Staying bent over the sink, you look to the gray city beyond the glass, breathing in the refreshing air. From this height, it looks calm in the aftermath of a downpour, heavy clouds still rolling in below the tops of skyscrapers, blurring traffic lights to blotches of red and green.

The coffee maker dings, its last drips accompanied by the machine loudly whirring to a stop. You feel Flip pass behind you, not expecting it when his hand squeezes your ass on the way past. Spine going taut in surprise, you come down off your tiptoes and look left, only to see he is not facing you. No, he is wholly focused on nonchalantly grabbing the coffee pot and, for the third time today, pouring the hot liquid into his mug.

Leaning a hip on the sink, you cross your arms and drag your eyes up his muscular back. It has been about an hour since...breakfast. Since he kissed you again and your back cramped from laying on the table too long, causing you to yelp in pain, pushing him off and rolling to the ground, only to trip him in the process. He ended up landing on top of you. A chaotic mess, really.

A needless but entertaining argument about whose fault the fall was, had ensued, morphing into a detailed conversation about properly having sex on any surface other than a bed. After the dishes were cleaned up, you had raced Flip to the bathroom and won, emerging in a new pair of underwear and earning an intense glare from him. Now, you compare his height to the fridge on his left, noticing how short it looks next to him. You gulp, having a vision of him resting a hand on top of it for stability while you're down on your knees, sucking his cock.

"How many cups of coffee a day do you normally drink?" you ask in suspicion, watching his right deltoid shift as he puts the pot back in the machine with a click. Even the most minor movements are fascinating to study. Part of you itches to trace a finger over every divot of his back. Follow how the muscles work together and memorize which ones shiver at a gentle touch. If they differ from the ones that tremble when you dig your nails in as he's fucking you.

He looks over his shoulder, one dark eye meeting yours while he brings the mug to his lips. As he sips, he turns, leaning back on the counter in a relaxed manner, black boxer-briefs low on his hips.

"Concerned about my caffeine intake, darlin'?" he asks, sipping again with amusement in his eyes, hand absolutely dwarfing the mug.

You roll your eyes with a small smile. "No," you say defensively, unable to stop yourself from looking him up and down when he is standing there like that. Calves ridiculously sturdy and large. Thighs unbelievably brawny and rugged. Bulge looking sinfully good under that thin layer of black fabric. It is impossible to look at him and not want him. "You're a big boy, Flip, I don't think you need my concern."

Flip traces his upper teeth with his tongue, setting the mug down with a mischievous upward quirk to his lips. "Yeah...but maybe I like it," he says, playfully biting his bottom lip with a quick raise of his brows.

You scoff, facing the window again when you feel your cheeks heat up. "I was only going to ask how hotel coffee compares to, say, coffee from a 7-Eleven," you casually reply, swiveling your face to him with narrowed eyes, fighting a smile.

Flip barks a laugh, shaking his head with a subtle roll of his eyes. "You think you're clever, huh," he says, gaze drifting down to your ass and checking you out like he was doing just before the coffee was finished.

"Sometimes."

He palms himself, feeling blood rush downwards. "You know, that gas station is on my way to work, darlin', it's a matter of convenience." Being alone with you, it's like his libido has gone into overdrive, finally being able to let loose, causing his never-ending desire to be buried in your warm little cunt to go straight to his cock, no holds barred. It's intoxicating and freeing. It makes him feel so fucking alive.