The Hope
“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” I ask Amelie as she tucks the strap of her sandals in, belting it down. She does the same to the other, then wiggles her toes.
“I’m fine. I can drive, but the truth is, I may pull over halfway to take them off,” she says, sliding her purse over her arm. We both admire the strappy sandals. She flips her hair over the shoulder. “Okay, I’m off. Commercial audition a littleter and I want to go home and change so the director doesn’t think I’m drunk.”
“Probably a good idea,” I tell her, extending my hand to help her down the back steps. “Wait,” I p my forehead with my palm, then scurry inside, returning a momentter with the entire reason for the visit. “Your bridesmaid dress.” Since I only have one bridesmaid and she’s a struggling actress, I paid for her dress. And also, brides should pay for bridesmaid dresses—it’s only fair.
Amelie tucks the bag under her arm and toddles to her car, waving me off as she backs up then disappears up the street. I’m about to close the door when Sutton’s car pulls in, and he ducks inside, shing me a handsome, happy, end-of-day grin. He parks in the garage, and I meet him inside, slipping my hands into his suit pockets and he holds my face in his hands, kissing the tip of my nose before finding my lips.
“She picking up her dress?” he asks, earning a nod from me.
“I met her here after the staging,” I reply, letting Sutton spin me, his handsing to rest on my hips. He guides me to the kitchen where I squeal when he surprises me by lifting me up, plunking me down on the counter top. He pushes my knees apart toe stand between my spread thighs, and thebination of moves has my pulse racing and my clit thrumming.
“I missed you today,” he says, collecting my hair in his hand, giving it a tug to expose my throat. He kisses me there gently, contrasting the pull of his hand as he guides my head further to the side, giving himself more skin to kiss. His lips drag over my flesh, pressing kisses everywhere until he’s under my chin, and then back at my mouth.
I feed my fingers through his silky hair, loving the way the ends curl toward his cor after a long day. “We worked together today,” I remind him, sliding my tongue against his as he kisses me again. He’s never put me on the counter, never ravaged my throat in the kitchen before having adequate time to wind down post-work day.
This fire, this new passion and fervor—it excites me. Our eyes lock as his handse to my hips, thumbs tucked under the hem of my ck skirt. I’m still wearing my pencil skirt and sleeveless crepe blouse that I wore to work–I was partially in office, partially staging today, so I went with myfiest pencil skirt and most breathable blouse and tossed my sneakers in the car. I switched back to heels on my drive.
Sutton’s hands trail my calf beforeing to the shiny ck pump on my foot. He removes it, letting it fall to the floor before lifting my foot and pressing his lips to the top. My stomach clenches at the sight of Sutton in a suit, holding my bare leg, carving a hot trail with his mouth toward my core.
Oh my God. What if he goes down on me right here in the kitchen with the lights on and dinner in the oven? That would be so hot—the idea of it has my toes curling, which causes my other heel to fall off, plunking loudly on the granite. He lifts his mouth from my knee and returns his hands to my skirt. That is so hot—seeing Sutton want me so much is so erotic. My eyes fall to the crotch of his cks where his erection tents,rge and impossible to ignore. My mouth waters as he kisses me, pulling back to whisper, “Can I have you here?”
I nod, suddenly frantic by the idea that Sutton needs me so bad that he wants me on the kitchen counter, yet he still asked for permission.
With my skirt around my hips, he unzips, fishing himself out through the fly of his cks. His shaft always makes my insides flutter–he’s long, with burly veins running down the top and underside, giving way to a perfectly shaped cockhead, made slick with precum, pinkened by arousal. He strokes himself—my kryptonite—and braces himself on the countertop, work papers and wedding ns scattered around us like confetti.
I grip the counter’s edges, and his groan echoes off the cabs and windows as he sinks inside. Moving his hips, he makes love to me in quick, unperfected strokes, as if he’s lost all ability to be in control. I love it. I love when he’s haphazard with his affection, wild and carnal. My toes curl again, only this time, it’s from the feel of him seated all the way inside me, nudging every warm spot that makes me feel like I’m going to explode.
“That’s it,” he croons softly, pulling all the way out, leaving me cold and hollow for a handful of seconds before sliding back in, holding himself there, deeply. “Unraveling, aren’t you?” he asks, the heat of his groin, the scratch of his pubic hair against mine, his heart beating chaotically against me–it’s too much.
I nod my head. “I’m close.”
A smirk dusts his lips as he reaches between us, bracing himself on one arm on the kitchen ind. My eyes roll closed when his thumb slides over my clit, humming and sticky, begging for his attention, but I reach down and grab him by the wrist.
His brows pull together, confusion evident. He always makes mee using his hands first. But right now, his passion is so enthralling, I cane without it. Many times. I know I can.
“Keep going, just… keep going, please,” I breathe, a bead of sweat traversing his temple, dropping down to my cheek. He’s still fully clothed, and so am I, and when I look down at the thick trunk of his cock, the rest of him buried inside me, our clothing still on, oven running, daylight shining, TV softly ying in the other room, Ie violently.
It’s so out of his character. It’s so exciting and passionate. I cannot wait for more of this side of Sutton.
“Whoa,” he groans, starting to move his hips in slow, deep circles, fucking me through my first unraveling as his jaw tightens, restraint evident in his dark eyes. “Baby, you’reing so hard,” he says through soft hushes and slow,zy strokes. When my eyes are open again, and I can reasonably manage speech, I lick my lips and say, “I need to feel you. Please, Sutton, keep going.”
“Hmm,” is thest audible noise he makes before pulling out and mming into me again and again, his thrusts sloppy, his cock steely, a look of pure satisfaction twisted up on his features. My lower half hums, the sensations all too much, and I p at his chest as my second orgasm takes hold, making my walls clench and tighten all around him. He stills, his eyes mming shut as his cock throbs inside of me, filling me in waves with his cum. “Avery,” he groans, my name never sounding more beautiful than when he moans it as he orgasms. “I want to get you pregnant so badly,” he says, his new favorite thing to say since I went off of my birth controlst month. He thrusts again, and I clench all around him, loving when he talks about breeding me when he’s fucking me.
Iy my head back against the counter and blink up at the recessed lights, trying for a minute to catch my breath as Sutton slides out of me. He returns, pressing a wad of damp paper towels to my pussy as he helps me sit up, covering my head so it doesn’t bonk the bar lights as I do.
“That was–”
“I’m sorry,” he says, scooping my hand off the counter to pepper it with kisses. “I just missed you this afternoon and you looked so gorgeous in your skirt and heels, and–” he shakes his head, as if adoring me is no excuse. “Our bedroom is where that should happen, and I apologize.”
I grab his tie and yank his mouth back to mine, kissing him. “I’m not sorry. That was really hot, Sutton.” Another kiss, this time slow and methodical, my tongue tangling with his in an effort to silently beg for more wild Sutton. To tell him that I like spontaneously horny Sutton. “Thank you.”
He smiles, and helps me off the counter. “I don’t want my child conceived on the counter, so I apologize.” Another smile. “Go get changed and I’ll get started on dinner.”<hr>
Two weeks. In two weeks I will be Avery Mercer. I stick out my hand and look at my ring for the millionth time. I think of my parents, who live in Southern California, and adopted the “once you’re eighteen, we’re done” motto of parenting. I wasn’t ready to leave their house when I turned eighteen, but they were ready to not have a child at home, and they turned me out.
I slept at a friend’s house for the first month, until I found affordable rent—in the city. I moved here six months after high school graduation, and I’ve only seen them a few times since. We’re on speaking terms, but I don’t feel a great need to be close to them. I don’t identify with their parenting style, and when I have my own children, I would never turn one out at age eighteen, simply for being a legal adult.
Sutton is aware of the way I feel about my parents, and one of the few times I’ve seen them in thest few years is when we drove down to visit them—so I could introduce them to my boyfriend.
They were nice. It was cordial. The visit was fine.
Knowing that Sutton and Geo have worked things out brings me so much happiness. Sutton asked me if repairing things with Geo was important to me because my family isn’t near, and we aren’t close, and I considered it. But truthfully, I don’t think that’s why.
I worked with Geo a lot. I’ve obviously worked with Sutt a ton, too. And I saw simrities. Things about them that made me think of the other, and thought to myself, geez, if they ever did manage to work through the past, they’d get along so well.
I never stuck my nose in, not until Geo approached me. His vulnerability took my breath away and when it came down to it, Geo only cared about doing what was right for Sutton all these years, even now, all along. It was hard to hold any ill will toward him after that day, and once they talked and worked through things, our lives havepletely changed.
They’re rebuilding. It’s not perfect. They aren’t instantly ying golf every weekend. I don’t call him dad.
But it’s better. So much better, and building toward something even better.
It’s why I don’t ever sweat not being close with my parents. I think sometimes that the universe showed me cheap rent in the city so I coulde here and meet the Mercers. Because now that Sutt and Geo are making amends, Geo and I are growing closer, too.
The bathroom door opens, and steam fills the room for a moment before dissipating, leaving just the sight of Sutton, cks open and slung low around his hips revealing his Adonis belt, muscled core and strong chest. He’s going to go downstairs and get a ss of water—he does this before every hot shower. But the outline of his soft cock in his cks and the feel of his cum still inside me from a few hours ago makes me reckless and I toss back the nket draped over my legs, and slip out of bed, dropping to my knees.
The movement catches his attention and hees to me, extending a hand. “Drop your earring?”
I tug on his boxers and his open pants. “I want you, before your shower, I want you again.” I slip one hand into his boxers but he stops me, and pulls me up to my feet with ease. When I blink up at him, his brows are weighted by confusion, the slight stubble covering his chin after a long day at work not helping the pulsing in my clit.
“You want.. What?” he asks, and I answer by giving his pants a tug, adding, “You. In my mouth. I want you to finish in my mouth.”
His eyes search mine. “Avery, we made love earlier.” This is his way of saying that my pussy is still smeared all over him, and that if I put him in my mouth now, I’ll taste myself, I’ll taste the love we made, all of it.
“I know,” I reply, my heart racing, the unspoken sentiment that I want to taste myself and us lingers between us, and each moment that passes where he doesn’t say anything makes me exponentially more nervous.
The momentary tension splits when Sutton smiles, then presses a soft kiss to my lips. “I’ll shower first, okay?” He nods to the open door, where the water is running in the distance.
I nod, and try not to be disappointed that he said no. Sex on the counter was hot. Expecting more out-of-routine behavior from Sutton in one day would be asking too much, pushing too far. “Sure,” I smile, my cheeks ring, embarrassment of rejection hitting me. But as he pulls the door closed and I reach into my panties, finding myself ready for him again, I realize that it’s not just being rejected that hurts. It’s mustering courage to show him that I want more, that I’m hungrier than he realizes, thirstier than he’s aware—only to be curbed, told to pace myself, to wait.
It’s okay, that’s what I tell myself as I bring myself to orgasm while Sutton showers. It’s okay if he’s less adventurous, wants sex less than I do. Maybe over time, he’ll want more.
A few minutes pass before Suttones out of the bathroom, nothing but a towel slung around his waist. His veined hand disappears into his hair as he treads toward me, twisting the bedsidemp off with a click.
I wish he took the towel off before he turned the light out, and nothing will ever change that. I love Sutton, but his modesty turns me into a puddle, I swear. He slips under the covers, and my eyes struggle to adjust to the new darkness as he grabs my face, pulling me into a kiss. Our tongues slide together, and his soft moans and partial erection inme my lower half. I shimmy down the length of him, positioning myself between his thighs, the nkets bunched at my feet so he can watch.
He rarely watches. I mean, he does watch. But not the whole time. Most of the time, his eyes are closed, and I’m d he enjoys himself. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t gotten myself off to the fantasy of Sutton holding my eyes as hees into my mouth and down my throat. I’ve had one of my most intense orgasms fantasizing about his thumb on my throat, groaning aloud as he feels me swallow his cum. So hot.
I slide his cock onto my tongue, giving his balls a gentle tug as I take him down my throat. Sutton’s handes to my cheek, his thumb resting beneath my bottom lip. Tenderly, he holds my face as I suck him, and as my eyes adjust to the darkness, I blink up, over the terrain of his godlike torso, and find his eyes.
He stares down at me, his thumb tugging slightly as I bob on his erection, hot and steely in the tight channel of my throat.
“You’re so beautiful, Avery,” he whispers, the praise throwing a cramp of desire in my belly, making me squirm a little between his legs. His words urge me to take him deeper, my eyes burning as his head nudges the soft spot at the back of my throat. With the tip of my tongue, I trace his crown, my clit pulsing when his eyes flutter closed, his grip tightening on my face as he groans.
Sutton rarely makes noises when I go down on him, but I live for each grunt and groan he does make. I bob on his shaft again, this time using my hand to gently stroke him at the base, the part of him I struggle to fit in my throat. I suck and twist, and he groans, the virile, cavernous noise of it arousing me even more.
He slides his hand to the top of my head,zily pushing wisps of blonde hair away from my face, blinking down at me in the moonlight. “Av, I’m close,” he warns, because Sutton does not like orgasming in my mouth. He, in the past, has said it’s unnecessary. The one time he did it was so absolutely and utterly hot that I orgasmed just from the taste of him. And there was so much. And it was the best consistency, too. But the idea of asking for that again after so many other rejections is just too nerve-wracking, even though it shouldn’t be.
I want to be Sutton’s slut. The thing is, he doesn’t want a slut, and I’m trying to be okay with that.
Pumping his shaft, I take his cock out of my mouth with a pop, and align his dark, peeking slit with my mouth, readying myself.
Sutton’s eyes, which closed a moment ago, pop open, and his abs knot as he attempts to raise up to his elbows in the bed.
“Let me,” I breathe, my heart racing so fast as my hands work him in skilled pumps.
“Oh, oh my God,” he sighs, sinking back into the pillows as I cup my mouth to his head, catching his cum as he orgasms, his entire body a twitching, moaning mess.
It happens right then, as I’m sucking him down, feeling his cum stter my throat and coat my tongue, knowing how rare this gift is, how infrequent I get to receive it—my pussy clenches and spasms, orgasming without a single touch just at the erotic and heated feel of Sutton letting me taste and swallow his orgasm.
Afraid he’ll ask me to spit, I swallow it all as he gives it to me, and when thest of him is spent, I lick his shaft clean.
I climb up into bed, clinging to his chest, my body humming from the way he pants, struggling to catch his breath. “Avery–you know I don’t expect you to do that, right? To… swallow.”<fnc837> For more chapters visit f?ndnovel</fnc837>
The word is quieter than the others, as if even discussing it brings Sutton some difort. I don’t want to push him–he’s given me so much today. I nod my head and kiss his cheek. “I wanted to. I always want to. I want as much of you as you’ll give me, Sutt.”
He kisses me, but stands up long enough to pull on his boxers, and a t-shirt before the faint light of TV takes us into sleep.