“It’s okay,” I say, finally sucking in a full breath of air. It’s a little flattering, and a little embarrassing. “If I were better at this, there wouldn’t be a mess.”
“Piper. You were fantastic. No one has ever—I didn’t realize it would feel so good.”
“Did I just give you your first blow-job?” I suddenly realize.
His antennae curl toward each other, and he sheepishly avoids eye contact. “It was. Let me get you a washcloth. Please. I’m so, so sorry.” He hurries to his kitchen area. I do believe it was unintentional. Some men might have lied—done it on purpose—but Ant’s honesty shines through in everything he’s said to me since we met. I’m going to choose to believe him. The Mothman’s wings flutter behind him while he fiddles in his kitchen. He’s fully naked still, and through my semen-splattered glasses, I get a glimpse of a tight fur-covered ass. I unconsciously lick my lip, catching a drop of his semen.
The sweet taste dances across my tongue. It doesn’t taste like human cum, it’s still a little salty, but sweet instead of bitter. Like honey, or salted caramel. Curious, I dip another finger into the white goo covering my cheek and slip it into my mouth. It’s pleasant, easy, and kind of…good??1?
Ant makes an odd noise. When I look over, he’s watching me.
“Do that again. Please?” He adds the final word as a question.
“Did you like it?” I laugh, enjoying how intrigued he is.
He nods expressively, clear effort going into the human movement.
I fight a giggle and slip another finger of his cum into my mouth. The sweet and salty flavor dances across my tongue. He groans watching me.
“You are amazing. You know that?” He’s standing in front of me now.
“I’m a mess.” I start to roll my eyes, realize my mistake, and try to turn away from him. His hand catches my chin to face him and gently swipes my cheek with a washcloth. It’s warm. He’s taken the time to let the water heat up, to make me more comfortable.
“I love the way you look, all messy, your face covered in my cum.” His eyes are somewhere else for a moment, and in a quick movement, he’s lifted me up into his arms so my legs wrap around his waist. “In my arms, in my shirt, with my cum on you.”
“Maybe I could useyourshower? Inyourbathroom. To cleanyourcum, offmyface?” I smile, still feeling sheepish when I slip my arms around his neck.
“Letmeclean you up,” he murmurs as he carries me to his bed. I lose his shirt somewhere along the way. He drops me fully naked into his sheets and continues wiping, cleaning off delicate parts of me that don’t even need to be cleaned. The nape of my neck, over my chest, down to the soft skin on my inner thighs, leaving little goosebumps in its wake as it cools. He dips his face into my neck, his breath hot where the skin is still damp. A gentle lick, a kiss.
“You taste almost as good as you smell,” he says in a breath.
“I smell good?”
“So very, very good.” He grunts a response. I reach up unconsciously, to trace fingers along his cheek. One of his mandibles grips at my hand. Then the sides of my breasts, the curve of my hip, the strip of thigh between my legs, until I amwet, not just from the washcloth, and he puts his mouth between my legs. It doesn’t take long until I am the one coming all over his face, and he is preening, pleased with his actions.
I’ve never had a one-night stand before. I don’t think it's common for them to last for nearly thirty-six hours straight, but Ant easily convinces me to stay the night again by fucking me into oblivion, then curling around me purring. It’s easy to sleep pressed against his chest. So much easier than in my own empty bed.
When Sunday morning rolls around, I really have to leave what I’m certain has been the most enjoyable one-night stand in existence. I know it’s illogical that part of me wants to stay here in our little sex nest forever. Ignoring the entire world, and the fact that I don’t have any clean underwear.
The idea of never seeing him again, walking away from him forever, has my heart twisting in my chest. I know what our arrangement was, still my stupid heart can't help wondering if he might entertain a different agreement.
1 I’d give so much more head if semen tasted better.
11
PONTIUS
I’m pouring a cup of coffee when she walks out of my bathroom, freshly showered and wrapped in a towel.Mytowel.
She’s beautiful. Her skin is still slightly pink from the hot water. I can’t believe she’s here. My mate. Covering everything in her scent. Getting more of her smells embedded in my house, in my linens, in every part of my nest. Her damp hair tumbles over the slope of her bare shoulder. She bends over to sort through her pile of dirty clothing, the towel gaping open at the side providing a view of the perfect sliver of skin leading up her thigh.
“Can I lend you something to wear?” I ask selfishly. I want her in my clothing. I want her marked with my stuff, and my stuff to be marked by her. I want to pull her back into my bed and never let her leave.
“I need to go. It’s my niece’s birthday,” she says simply.
“You can’t miss that,” I tell her. I know it’s unrealistic to keep her here forever. She said she needed a one-night stand. A night of no-strings-attached sex. I want her to have everything in the world that she could ever desire. So that’s what she’ll get. I’ll see her again, even if it’s from across the street, and I never get to hold her in my arms. My fingers tighten around thehandle of my coffee mug. I push the second mug in her direction: almond creamer and two Splenda. Exactly the way I’ve watched her prepare it through several coffee shop windows. “I had an amazing weekend, Piper.”
“Me too.” Her eyes are focused on the ground, seeming suddenly shy. “I wondered if maybe…we might…do this again…”
