Chapter 112: A new background

She reached for me and then changed her mind before I was fully hard.

"Not here," Evelyn said. She sat up, sheet falling, the dried shine from the rug still on her thigh. "Kitchen table. I want to lie back on it and watch your face the whole time. No counter. No couch. No book. Just the table and daylight and you not being careful. Can you do not careful?"

"Yes."

"Then come on. Leave the sheet. I don’t want the bed involved yet."

She walked ahead, naked, and cleared the table with one sweep of her arm. Cups to the counter. Book stayed in the other room. She lay back, ass at the edge, legs open, and crooked a finger. "In. Slow for three strokes so I can see it. Then however you want. I want to come looking at you. That’s the whole request."

I stepped between her legs and pushed in. She was wet, swollen, and she watched the place we joined for the first stroke, then my face for the second. On the third she nodded. I fucked her harder. The table held. Her breasts moved. She didn’t look away. Her hand found her clit and she rubbed while I drove into her, eyes locked on mine. She came like that, mouth open, gaze unbroken, pussy gripping hard. I kept going. She came again, smaller, still watching, and said, "Inside. I want to see your face when you do it too."

I buried and came, pulsing, and she watched all of it, then smiled when the leak started around me. "Good," she said. "Stay a second. Then I want to sit in your lap on the chair. Not ride. Just sit full and talk about something stupid until one of us breaks. New game. No points."

We moved to the chair. She sank down, stayed still, arms around my neck, and started talking about the neighbor’s ugly curtains. I answered. She clenched when she laughed. The stupid talk lasted until she ground once, involuntarily, and admitted the game was over. Then she rode me properly on the chair, hard, until she came and I filled her again. She stayed in my lap after, sweaty, forehead on mine.

"Shower," she said. "Together. Then we go outside and buy the ugly curtains a rival. Or ice cream. Something that isn’t milk. I want a day with an errand that isn’t domestic maintenance. You’re coming with me. Clothes required. Hands to yourself until the door closes again. Deal?"

"Deal."

We showered without fucking. Dressed. The walk was longer. She bought ice cream she didn’t need and a plant she claimed was for the windowsill. On the way back she held the plant like a shield and still managed to press against me at the crosswalk. Inside, she set the plant down, locked the door, and looked at the table.

"Again," she said. "Same place. Faster this time. I thought about it the whole way home with a fern in my arms. Don’t make me ask twice."

I fucked her on the table again, harder, her legs around my waist, the plant watching from the counter. She came loud. I came inside her. She lay there after, breathing, one hand on my chest, and laughed.

"Fern’s scandalized," she said. "Good. Bed later. Nap or not. No schedule. You wanted new. This is new. Don’t turn the table into the next counter. We’ll retire it tomorrow if it gets boring. For now it’s working. Come here and kiss me before the ice cream melts and becomes a metaphor."

I kissed her. The ice cream was already soft. She didn’t care. The day had a table and a fern and no list, and she was already pulling me closer for whatever came next without naming it.

The ice cream was eaten on the floor because the table was occupied with her legs and the aftermath.

Evelyn sat cross-legged, naked, spoon in one hand, the other resting on my knee. She talked about the fern needing water and not needing names. I listened. Halfway through the cup she set it down, pushed me onto my back on the rug, and straddled my face. "Mouth," she said. "While I finish the ice cream. Multitasking. Don’t make it weird."

I licked her. She was sensitive, messy from the table, and she rocked slow while she ate, moaning around the spoon when I sucked her clit. She came once, thighs tight, then set the empty cup aside and slid down to take me in her mouth, ice-cream cold at first, then warm. She sucked until I came, swallowed, and crawled up to kiss me with the taste of both.

"Bed," she said. "Not for a ritual. I want to lie on my side and have you fuck me while we watch the fern not grow. Low effort. High contact. If I laugh you’re not allowed to stop."

We made it to the bed. She lay on her side. I entered her slow. She did laugh once, at the fern, and I didn’t stop. We moved lazy. She came soft. I came inside her. She pulled the sheet up and kept me there, eyes on the windowsill.

"See?" she said. "New. Table. Fern. Ice cream on the floor. No trade. Tomorrow we might be boring. Today we weren’t. Sleep if you want. Or don’t. I’m keeping you inside me until the fern judges us. It can take its time."

She closed her eyes. The fern did nothing. The house stayed empty. The table in the kitchen still held the shape of her, and neither of us got up to clear it.

...

Author’s note: What are your thoughts on the novel so far? any complaints? also, please check out my new novel: I grant perverted systems. its similarly another peak written by me.

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