Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

BEE

W e burst into the apartment, kissing wildly. Our hands are everywhere, and half our clothes are gone. I’m missing my jumper and T-shirt, while he’s shirtless and his shoes are gone. They’re all in the hallway somewhere—either that or the lift. I can’t bring myself to care.

We slam into the wall and gasp before going back to kissing as if our lives depended on it. I don’t usually spend this much time kissing. The important thing for me is the orgasm. I’d definitely be more of a fan if everyone kissed like Tom. His soft, pillowy lips give me goosebumps.

“God, you’re so hot,” he gasps.

“Am I?” It’s a surprise his statement makes me so happy. It’s not usually my habit to look for sexual validation. I adjust my glasses. “Well, I do try. I love sex and I’m always an extremely enthusiastic participant,” I confide.

Something about that seems to amuse him because his mouth twitches, but I’ve been without his lips too long, so I urge him down to me again, biting at his bottom lip until he groans and pulls me closer. He kisses me, pushing his tongue in my mouth and lowering his hands to open my jeans before squeezing my buttocks.

I moan fiercely and push closer, fumbling with his jeans. The desire in me is shockingly intense and I want to crawl inside him.

“I want you,” I groan. His thigh is hard and muscled, and I rub against him, taking some brief relief, the friction on my cock sending spangles of pleasure through me. “Shit, that’s so good,” I gasp between kisses.

“The best,” he says. He kisses down my neck, and I screw my eyes up at the pleasure. My neck is sensitive, and it feels like sparkles are racing under my skin, down my spine, and into my cock.

“ More ,” I say, my voice hoarse, pulling his hair and arching my neck.

He’s instantly there, licking the skin and sucking hard enough to leave a mark. Even that’s thrilling, and I urge him on in heated whispers. When he bites down on the junction of my neck and shoulder, all thoughts fly away. I cry out loudly, and my head flies back, banging into the wall.

“Are you okay?” he gasps.

“Keep going.”

He instantly returns to that spot, sucking and biting before blowing over the skin. It makes even my fingertips tingle, and I fumble between us, pushing my hands into his open jeans. His cock is hard and thrusting towards me, and he groans as I pull it gently from the cotton of his briefs. I want to look at him but can’t because he’s kissing me again.

I want to make this good for him. I want it to be the best. But most of all, I want his cock in my mouth.

He makes an inarticulate sound of protest as I pull away but then groans as I lower myself to my knees. His cock jerks as if it’s aiming for my mouth, and I grin up at him. His head is down, his eyes intent, and all signs of easygoing Tom have vanished. Now he’s all hot eyes and demanding hands.

He grabs his cock and, fisting the length, he pushes towards me. “Bee,” he says pleadingly.

If I’d had any thoughts of making him wait and playing with him, my own desire has defeated me, and I don’t waste any time. I grab his hips, pulling them towards me until his damp cockhead brushes my mouth. “Feed it to me,” I order.

Groaning loudly, he does as I say. His cock is long and intimidatingly wide, and my mouth waters as the juicy head slips past my lips. I give an experimental suck, and he grunts as if he’s been shot. “Shit,” he mutters. “That feels so good.”

I can taste his precome in my mouth, tart and hot, and I suck again. He arches into me, and when I look up, he’s watching me, his eyes dark.

Holding his gaze, I slowly lower my mouth down his cock. My eyes water at the thickness, but I keep going, relaxing my throat until he’s all the way in and his pubes tickle my chin. Then I pause, watching him.

He traces one finger around my stretched mouth, gathering moisture and rubbing it on my lips. Then his eyes slam closed as I suck him.

“Mmm,” he whispers. “Yes, like that. So good.”

Listening to him praise me makes me feel hot, and I suck and lick, the slurping sounds loud in the hallway. Occasionally I gag, but when he shows concern, I wave him away because I love to choke on a dick, and his is the prettiest one I’ve seen.

I rise and fall on his cock, making the suction hot and strong, and my own cock throbs to a fierce beat. I reach into my jeans and pull it out. I give myself a rough stroke, and he groans. “Yes, touch yourself, Bee. So hot. So fucking good .”

My balls draw up, and I realise with a shock that I could come. I pull off him.

“In the bedroom,” I whisper.

He nods and pulls up his jeans so he doesn’t trip. He careens as if he’s drunk, so I grab his hand and pull him along.

My room is quiet and lit by the glow of a streetlight. It casts shadows on the big bed, which is unmade and still rumpled from the morning. I go to the bedside table, pull out my lube and a condom, and throw them on the bed.

“Get your clothes off.” I kick off my shoes and socks and pull off my jeans.

Tom watches me, his face half in shadow, a hot, restless gleam in his eyes. There seems to be a trace of amusement in those eyes.

I put my hands on my hips. “What?”

“Shall we slow this down a bit?” he says hoarsely. “There’s so much I want to do to you.”

I’m shaking my head before he’s even halfway through his sentence. “I can’t wait. I want you to fuck me now.”

He considers me for a long few seconds, and then he’s in motion, stripping off his jeans and coming close to draw me into his arms. He kisses me, sucking on my lips until they feel swollen, and then sliding his tongue into my mouth. My hands are in his hair immediately, fisting the soft strands and making moaning noises that I can’t stop. His cock is a heavy weight against me, and I pull back.

“Kneel upright on the bed,” I say hoarsely.

He does as I say moving slowly and fluidly like honey pouring from a jug. His skin is golden against the white sheets, and his body is a work of art: broad shoulders, long legs with narrow hips, and a muscled hair-roughened torso. His hair is a mess where my hands have been in it, and his eyes are heavy-lidded and so sexy.

I kneel on the bed facing him, and his cock jerks as if it’s looking for me. Holding his eyes, I lower my head, keeping my arse up in the air. The air is cold on my opening, and I feel empty. I lick his cock, and he groans, so I take him into my mouth, starting to suck. He palms my head, pushing me into his groin. I can smell the rich scent of his pubes, and although the gesture is forceful, I can’t help noticing the gentleness in his hands.

But I’m not one for gentleness during sex. Or for taking my time when my cock is throbbing like this. I take his cock back down my throat and swallow. He moans, and I hear the sound of a cap popping. Then I jerk as I feel a finger circling my hole.

“Shit,” I gasp, pulling off his dick with a pop.

“This okay?” he asks, his eyes avid.

“Yeah, of course.” I take his cock into my mouth again but stop because I can’t concentrate when his finger is sliding around my entrance, silky with lube. He caresses the wrinkled skin, and the nerves there make goosebumps break out all over my body. “Mmm,” I say dreamily. “That’s nice.”

“Good.” His voice is deep, and I groan as he pushes the tip of his finger in. He waits for a second until I wriggle impatiently, and then he pulls the tip out and slides his finger in. He goes slowly, pausing for me to get used to it, but I don’t need gentle treatment, and I lick his cock, bending to put a stinging kiss at the base.

“Shit.” He jerks, making his finger slide in.

I cry out, unable to do anything except move into that finger. “Fuck. Do more,” I whisper, pressing back against his finger, wanting it deeper, wanting it to hurt. I groan in protest as he pulls out, but he’s adding more lube, the chill cool on my overheated skin. Then he’s sliding two fingers in, and I go wild.

I hump against the fingers, moaning loudly. The pleasure is so intense I forget to suck his dick and just rest my face against him. I jack his cock, but all my attention is on his fingers cramming inside me, and I push back and forward, riding the digits. His other hand is tracing my body, trailing over my buttocks and my lower back. The tickling caresses leave fire trails behind them, and my panting is loud in the quiet room.

Then it’s three fingers, and all I can do is mouth at his penis, my eyes shut, my hair sweaty on my face as I hump and whine.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he whispers.

I’ve abruptly had enough foreplay, so I pull off his fingers and look into his face. “Sit against the headboard,” I order.

He eyes me for a long second before slowly complying. I wonder why he isn’t feeling the same urgency as me, the same desire to be inside me, but then I notice his hands are shaking, and I still for a second at the heat in his eyes.

Then I’m in motion. I tear open the condom packet and roll it on him, and he arches into my touch, his hands spreading restlessly over me, kneading my shoulders and pulling at me to get close. He’s about to get his wish.

I pour a stream of lube over his sheathed cock and then get into position, kneeling over his thighs with my legs on either side of him.

“Ready?” I ask breathlessly.

He nods, fisting his cock. He nudges my hole like a gentle kiss, and I push down, pausing for a second to get used to his girth before sliding slowly all the way down his length. He cries out, his hands scrabbling at my hips and no doubt leaving bruises. I hope so.

I stop, resting for a second when he’s all the way in. I can feel his pubes tickling my bum.

“Okay?” he pants.

I nod, screwing my eyes shut. I love the overwhelming feeling when I first get a dick in me.

“Go slow,” he says.

My eyes fly open. “Fuck that. I need to come .”

He chuckles, so I do a little grind, gratified when his laughter stops, and he grabs my arse hard. I can feel his cock twitch inside me, and I wriggle on it.

“Damn, that’s intense,” he gasps.

I nod, unable to speak. I shift until I’ve found the best position and then start to move. Linking my arms over his neck and gazing down at him, I gyrate on his dick. This position rubs against my prostate, and the pleasure is so intense that I can barely breathe. I lift, feeling his cock kiss the rim of my hole, and then ram down, making him cry out. His big hands come up, and he grabs my buttocks and kneads them restlessly.

I repeat that a few times, my eyes closed, pleasure rushing through me. When we’re not panting, we’re groaning or grunting, and I flex my fingers in the sweat that’s damp on his shoulders. The scent of sex is rich between us, and I inhale it greedily.

My balls tighten, and I know it won’t be long, so I increase my pace, bouncing on his cock. He steadies me, gripping my buttocks, but I have to stop and take a breath when his finger runs over my hole.

“You’re stuffed full of me,” he says hoarsely.

“Mmm. Do it again.”

He strokes my hole again, and I hold still as he strokes the stretched opening until the tip of his finger edges in alongside his cock. The feeling is sublime, and my eyes fly open. I usually keep them shut during sex to focus solely on sensations, but I can’t seem to do that with Tom.

I blink when I find him looking back at me. I get the feeling he’s been looking at me all along. Our gazes hold. His hair is wet with sweat, his broad shoulders gleaming in the dim light. His eyes are heavy-lidded, and he looks so sexy, but also rumpled and warm and here . And before I can stop myself, I lean down and kiss him.

I pull back, shocked. His finger leaves my hole, and he gathers me impossibly close, our breathing filling the tiny space between us.

“I don’t usually kiss during sex,” I whisper.

His eyes are mysterious, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. “Good,” he says and fits his mouth to mine. The kiss is deep and passionate, and I fall into it. I realise that I’ve stopped moving only when he taps my arse. “Move,” he says in a guttural voice.

I almost wish this could go on forever. To be the centre of his world like this, where he sees only me, is curiously seductive. But the tingle in my spine and balls drives me on, and I slam down on him. He’s obviously done letting me control the pace because he starts to thrust. At first, we’re uncoordinated, but then something clicks, and we start to move like we’re lovers of years rather than just one night.

My cock rubs against his ridged abs, and all too soon, I feel the end approaching, and I rub harder. “Going to come,” I grunt.

He moans. His eyes are closed now, and I lean in, rubbing my face against his and nestling closer. I grind down, and his next thrust grazes my prostate, and it’s game over. I hear a loud cry that turns out to be me, and I come over him, creamy spurts landing on his skin and in the hair on his chest.

I carry on grinding down, feeling his arms tighten. He buries his face in my neck, and I return his tight hold, feeling oddly protective as he grunts loud and long and thrusts up. His cock jerks inside me and warmth floods my passage as he fills the condom.

Then, the world goes quiet.

We rest against each other for a few moments, panting and occasionally twitching as aftershocks hit us. Then I come to myself and stir. He makes an inarticulate murmur of protest, nestling close.

I kiss his head, smiling. “The condom,” I murmur.

“Okay,” he grumbles.

I lever up, holding on to the edge of the rubber. I groan in displeasure as he leaves me and then gasp as he pets my hole gently.

“You alright?” he says.

I blink. This feels way too intimate. Usually, at this moment I’d make for the bathroom to clean up. I don’t sit looking at my bedmate, itemising every inch of his features. And they certainly don’t sit staring back at me with an affectionate look on their face.

“Bee?” he says questioningly.

“Oh yes.” I jerk into action, tie the condom, and throw it into the bin. I’m done, and I should be moving.

He looks at me, his eyes soft as I hover near him, not quite knowing what to do. His eyes twinkle, and he sits up, pulling the duvet out and holding it up. “Come on.”

“Come on, where? Did you want to go out?”

He blinks. “No, I thought we could lie together for a bit.”

“Why?”

He’s definitely amused. I should be annoyed, but instead it makes me pleased to have given him some happiness. “Well, we could have a cuddle,” he says.

“A cuddle ?” I say in disgust. “I don’t cuddle.”

“Have you done much of it, then?”

That stops me dead. “Well, I’m sure I have,” I snap. I ponder that for a while, aware of his lip twitching. Finally, I shake my head. “Oh, shut up.”

“Such loverlike language. I might faint .”

“Will you be fainting in your own bed?” Try as I might, I can’t keep the humour out of my voice.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist on a cuddle. It’s non-negotiable. I can’t go to my own bed unless I get one. Plus, I have to go out and find all our clothes that are spread throughout the building. That alone deserves an embrace. It’s cold out there.”

I try to hide my smile. “Fine.” I edge under the covers and he does the same. He rolls onto his side, watching me. “So, what do we do now?”

“Ah, as the Jedi cuddle master, I’m going to say your first action, my young apprentice, should be to come closer. Cuddles require skin-to-skin contact.”

I groan but do as he says, sliding near as he rolls onto his back. He holds up one arm, and I stare at him. “What now?”

He winks. “Put your head on my shoulder.”

“You are so weird . Do you know that?” I grumble but do as he says. His arm comes down over me, and I conceal the sigh of satisfaction that wants to run through me.

We lie in silence for a second, and then I stir. “So, what next?”

“Eh? This is it.”

“Is it? Well, that’s a bit basic.”

His body shakes with laughter. “If you want, you can add a little something extra, like squeezing me and telling me how wonderful I am in bed.”

“ You ? I did all the work.”

He chuckles. “Well, you’re excellent in bed.”

“Am I? That’s good to know.”

“I can put it in writing if you like. Especially that bit where you rotate your hips.”

I snort and pinch his nipple, making him jerk and laugh out loud.

“Who does that during cuddle time? You’re a monster , Bee Bannister.”

I hesitate, not able to believe what I want to say.

“You okay?” he asks. “You’re awfully quiet, which I somehow know isn’t a good thing.”

“It’s not Bee Bannister.”

“What?”

“That’s not my real name.”

I can feel his interest now. “No? What is?”

“You can’t laugh.”

“Now I really am intrigued. Spill it.”

I take a deep breath. “It’s Beethoven Amadeus Bannister.”

There’s a long silence as he digests the full horror and then he says, “ That’s your real name?”

I close my eyes in resignation. Now the pisstaking starts. “My father was a great fan of the classics.”

My eyes fly open as he rolls me to my back and hovers over me. His eyes are warm and somehow knowing, as if he can see right down to the small boy who was always a little isolated through his family, through his intellect, and even through his bloody name. Then I blink as he leans down and kisses me. When he pulls back, he rubs his nose against mine, making my eyes cross before rolling onto his back again and pulling me close again.

“It’s nice to meet you, Beethoven Amadeus Bannister,” he says quietly.

My eyes get hot. I drop a kiss on his shoulder and snuggle in, and the room falls silent, with only the sounds of our soft breathing and the patter of snow at the window. One hand holds mine tight across his torso, and his other is raised, stroking slowly through my hair. It’s hypnotic, and I feel my eyes closing in pleasure. This cuddling business isn’t that bad , I think begrudgingly.

My eyes fly open as he moves. “Where are you going?” I ask before I can censure myself.

He drops a kiss on my mouth. “To my bed.”

“ Your bed?” I say too loudly.

He hesitates. “Well, yes. You don’t want me in yours. You said that on the way home.” His lip twitches. “At least five times.”

“Did I?”

He nods solemnly. “You told me that under no circumstances did you share a bed for longer than it takes to come. It was very stern and rather like going to bed with a headmaster.” He winks. “It was curiously erotic, though.” He hesitates. “Shall I go, then?”

I stare at him. I would like nothing more than for him to come back to bed and cuddle me some more, but the fierceness of that need is unsettling, so instead of telling him to stay, I just nod. “If you don’t mind,” I say.

His eyes soften, which surprises me. I’d have thought he’d be irritated by that. He leans in and kisses me again. “Until tomorrow, Beethoven,” he says softly, and then he’s gone, the door clicking softly behind him.

I stare at it for a while and then roll over, looking unseeing out at the darkness. I wanted him to go, and he’s done as I asked. So why do I feel almost lonely without him? The question stays in my mind until the drink and the aftermath of fantastic sex pull me under, and I slide into sleep in a bed that smells of Tom.