Chapter 18: Morning Mouthful
The lie lingered like a film on his skin, stubborn as the dried cream they’d finally washed away in the shower. Hyukjae lay still, pretending sleep as dawn bled grey light into the penthouse bedroom. The scent of jasmine lotion and sex clung to the sheets. Gabby slept deeply beside him, one hand possessively draped over his chest, her breathing slow and even. His mind replayed the previous night on a vicious loop: her demanding words, his own frantic abandon, the cold knot of dread that had settled in his gut afterward. You don’t need anything else.But he did. He needed to understand the void that opened inside him after the heat faded, a hollow space no amount of her body seemed to fill.
A subtle shift in her breathing. Then he felt it—the whisper-soft touch of her lips on his hipbone. He kept his eyes closed, feigning slumber, a confusing mix of desire and resentment swirling in his chest. Her mouth traveled inward, warm and seeking. Her hair fanned across his lower belly, a tickling curtain. He couldn’t suppress the involuntary twitch of his flesh as her breath ghosted over his morning erection.
“I know you’re awake,” she murmured, her voice husky with sleep. She didn’t wait for confirmation. Her tongue, hot and wet, licked a bold stripe from the base of his cock to the tip.
A sharp gasp escaped him. His eyes flew open. She was looking up at him, her gaze heavy-lidded and dark, her swollen belly pressed against his thigh. The sight was devastatingly intimate. He was fully hard now, jutting toward her face. She smiled, a slow, wicked thing, and wrapped her lips around the head.
“Fuck, noona,” he breathed, his hands lifting to hover above her head, torn between pushing her away and fisting her hair.
She took him deeper, her mouth a slick, tight heaven. He could feel the back of her throat, a soft, resisting pressure that made his toes curl. She pulled back with a lewd, sucking pop, saliva stringing between her lips and his glistening crown. “You taste like me,” she said, her voice a rough whisper. “And sleep. And worry.” She swallowed him down again, deeper this time, her nose burying in the dark curls at his base. The wet, sloppy sounds she made were obscenely loud in the quiet room.
His resolve crumbled. The anxiety, the doubt—it was all being sucked away, replaced by a blinding, singular need. His hands sank into her tangled blonde hair, not guiding, just holding on. She hummed in approval, the vibration traveling straight up his spine. Her eyes stayed locked on his, unblinking, as she worked him with her mouth and tongue, a rhythmic, filthy worship.
“Gabby,” he groaned, his hips lifting off the mattress involuntarily. “I’m… I’m gonna…”
She pulled off, a strand of spit breaking and landing on his stomach. “Not yet,” she commanded, crawling up his body. She straddled his hips, her wetness already smearing his skin. She leaned down, her breasts swaying above his face, and kissed him deeply. He could taste himself on her tongue, salty and primal. “I need you inside me now,” she whispered against his mouth. “I need to feel you chase that worry away. Fuck it out of both of us.”
She positioned herself, one hand reaching between them to guide him. The broad head of his cock nudged against her soaked entrance. She sank down, a slow, breathtaking invasion that forced a mutual groan from their throats. She was so tight, so impossibly hot and wet. The sensation was a drug, immediate and addicting.
“Look at me,” she panted, fully seated, taking every inch. He obeyed, his vision swimming. Her face was flushed, her lips parted. “This is all that’s real. This. Your cock buried in my cunt. Me, riding you. Everything else is noise.”
She began to move, rolling her hips in a grinding, circular motion that made him see stars. He gripped her thighs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. The silk sheets whispered beneath them. Each rise and fall was a deliberate, agonizingly perfect friction. He could feel every ridge, every clenching pulse of her inner walls as she milked him.
“You feel so fucking good,” he rasped, his head thrashing side to side. “So deep. You’re taking all of me.”
“I want all of you,” she gasped, bouncing harder now, her breasts jiggling enticingly. “Every fucking inch. Give me that worry. Give me that doubt. I’ll swallow it all.” Her pace became frantic, desperate. She was chasing her own peak, using his body to find it. “Touch me,” she demanded, grabbing his hand and shoving it between their joined bodies. “Make me come. I want to come all over your cock.”
His thumb found her swollen clit, slippery and hard. He rubbed tight, fast circles. Her rhythm broke, becoming jerky, uncontrolled.“Yes! Right there, right fucking there!” she screamed, her body seizing up. Her cunt clenched around him in rapid, violent spasms, a hot gush of her release coating him. Her cries were raw, unfiltered, echoing off the glass windows.
The intense grip of her orgasm tipped him over the edge. With a shout that was part relief, part surrender, he thrust up into her one final time and came. It was a torrent, seemingly endless, pumping into her depths as he shuddered helplessly beneath her. She collapsed forward onto his chest, both of them slick with sweat, their hearts hammering a frantic, synchronized beat against each other.
For long minutes, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing. The grey light had brightened to a pale gold. Slowly, regretfully, he softened and slipped out of her, followed by a trickle of their mixed fluids onto his thigh.
She nuzzled into his neck. “See?” she whispered, her voice drowsy and saturated with contentment. “No void. No room for anything else. Just us.”
He held her, tracing patterns on her sweat-damp back. The heat of her body, the scent of their coupling, it was everywhere.It was everything. And for a moment, he almost believed her. The hollowness was filled, packed tight with the physical proof of her need.
But as his breathing evened out, a sliver of cold, clear thought returned. The worry hadn’t been fucked out. It had been buried. Smothered under sensation, drowned in pleasure. It was still there, waiting. He kissed the top of her head, his lips lingering in her hair.
“Just us,” he echoed, the words hollow in his own ears.
Outside, the city began to wake. Inside, the perfect silence of the penthouse felt less like peace and more like a held breath.