I take him deeper into my mouth and suck him from root to tip, working him faster each time. His hips start twitching, and it’s almost like I can feel his control is in a fragile cage and at any second could break free.
“Fuck. Your mouth wrapped around me is almost hotter than watching you cum, Tink.” His words make my pussy clench. I wish he would drag me up his body and thrust inside me. The intense ache I feel is only growing and my clit starts throbbing once again. Taking my free hand, I slip it into my panties and start circling my clit. I can feel the juices from my last orgasm.
“I’m gonna cum,” he grunts, and I wonder if he’ll try to pull me off. He has yet to touch me. I suck him faster, wanting him to cum in my mouth. Another growl rips from him, and his whole body stiffens once again. His warm release fills my mouth and the erotic pleasure of having him there triggers my own orgasm. I feel the intense pleasure spread through my body as I greedily suck him down.
Licking my lips, I crawl back up his body, grab on to his chest, and shove my face into his neck. I cling to him as the last of my orgasm fades.
Not long after, my body is taken by sleep. But not before I feel him lift the fingers I used to play with myself to his mouth.
I wake up this morning like I have every other morning for the last two weeks, alone in Bray’s bed. The battle of the wills has been playing out since that night, and it’s utterly delicious. Every evening, Bray comes home for dinner and we eat and talk for hours. He seems to like to listen to me ramble on. I told him about going into foster care when I was ten. How I went to the hospital when I was really sick with the flu, and my mother just left me there—a threat she’d been making for years. I tried to be the daughter that she wanted, but in the end I wasn’t enough for her to want to keep me. I also told him about how being an older kid in the system makes it hard to get a permanent home, even if you try to be what they want. It always seemed like I was just getting shuffled off somewhere else. For the past few days he’s started to open up to me. I know he lost both his parents and things weren’t always great. He works hard for everything he has, but I can hear the hate he has towards his father.
It seems each day he opens up more and more to me, and my mind is consumed with ways to get him to laugh. The first time I heard him laugh, he came home early and busted me singing and booty dancing in the kitchen to Britney Spears. It wasn’t my proudest moment, but I would have done it all night to make him laugh again. It feels like the smiles and the laughs are coming easier.
I still spend my nights baiting him to touch me, but he hasn’t. I can touch him all I want but he doesn’t return the favor. Surprisingly, he has started telling me what to do. Last night when we went to bed he made me strip all the way down naked, lay across the bed and masturbate while he touched himself. He made me make myself cum twice before he released a splash of semen across my stomach.
I crave his lips on me. I want a kiss from him more than anything, but I will not be the one to do it first. For some reason I need this from him. I don’t want this to be something I pull from him, I want it to be something he gives to me on his own.
Pulling myself from the bed, I go through my normal routine. First calling Sam, who I still haven’t heard from other than a couple of random ‘I’m fine’ texts but nothing more. I feel guilty for not trying to locate him, but for once I just don’t want to get wrapped up in Sam’s mess. If he needs me, I’ll come, but until then I’m going to give him his space. At least I know he has a place to stay. I wanted to go pay the rent on the motel for the next few weeks but Bray was adamant that he would handle it. He doesn’t want me going down there. I thought it was silly, but maybe he is right. I don’t want to risk running into Nico.
Cleaning up from the previous night’s dinner, I plan what I’ll make tonight and do some prep work for it. There isn’t much more to do around here and when I informed Bray of this, he asked me what I would like to do. I told him I could do anything he needed but his response was, “What do you want you do, Tinkerbell?”
“Paint,” I said. Something I hadn’t done in a long time. Something that was only a luxury I would do when I was in school. The next day one of the spare rooms was filled with paints and canvases. At first I just started stacking my pieces when had completed them. Then Bray started hanging them on the walls, adding color to his once-cold home. It doesn’t seem so cold anymore. It makes me feel like he wants me to be a part of his home. Like it is becoming mine too.
I don’t feel like painting today, I want to see Bray. Plus I haven’t been out of the condo in over a week and I’m getting cabin fever. Maybe Bray will take me somewhere. It’s the first day of spring and it looks beautiful out. Maybe we can find somewhere with an open patio to have lunch.
Going to the bedroom, I slip on the one dress I own. It’s a dark violet sundress that I’ve always loved. It shows off my curves and makes me look like a perfect hourglass with how it falls on my hips. The color makes my eyes glow a lighter shade of purple, which works well with my pink- and purple-streaked hair. Grabbing my chunky, studded, ankle-high boots, I slide them on and make my way across town in a taxi. I can’t help but hope Bray will have me lie across his desk, make me lift my dress and put on another show for him.
When I reach his office Cindy is on the phone but gives me a puckered face like she swallowed a lemon. I roll my eyes and stroll past her right into Bray’s office.