Chapter 1: The Kitchen Counter
The butter dish clicked against the granite as Kelly set it down, the sound sharp in the quiet kitchen. Johnny’s back was to her, his shoulders rolling under a thin grey t-shirt as he chopped rosemary. The herbal scent mixed with the smell of him—laundry soap and a faint, clean sweat. Her eyes traced the line of his spine, down to where his jeans hung low on his hips.Months of this. Months of “borrowing” sugar she didn’t need, of lingering in the hallway to talk about the mail, of laughing a little too loud at his jokes. Her yoga-toned body was coiled with a tension no downward dog could release. Tonight, the hum of the fridge felt like a dare.She moved, her bare feet silent on the floor. She circled the island, coming up behind him.The heat of him reached her first. Then she pressed herself against his back, her full breasts flattening against his shoulder blades, her nipples hardening instantly through the lace of her bra and his soft cotton shirt.Johnny went still.The knife stopped. “Kelly?”
Her voice was a hot whisper against the shell of his ear. “Carly’s still at her sister’s, right?” She felt him nod, a stiff little motion.“Let me guess. Phone call goodnight? A ‘miss you, baby’ text?” She slid her hands around his waist, fingertips dipping beneath the waistband of his jeans, finding the trail of hair leading south. “Her pussy’s probably dry as a desert just thinking about it. Useful as a fucking museum piece.”
“Kelly—” His breath hitched.It wasn’t a no.It was a gasp.
She spun him around. His hazel eyes were wide, confused, but dark with a sudden, dawning hunger.She didn’t give him time to think. Her hands went to his belt buckle, fingers fumbling with the leather and metal before she got it open. The button fly of his jeans was next.She yanked them open, shoved them down over his hips just far enough.
His cock sprang free, thick and already hard, a bead of moisture glistening at the tip. “Fuck,” he breathed, looking down at her.
Kelly dropped to her knees on the cool hardwood.She didn’t tease.She didn’t start slow. She took him into her mouth in one swift, deep motion, gagging as the head hit the back of her throat. The taste of him, salt and skin, flooded her senses. She pulled back, saliva stringing, and looked up at him. His hands were clenched on the edge of the counter behind him, knuckles white.“You see that?” she mumbled, her lips stretched around his girth. “She ever take you like this? Or does she just lie there and think about her fucking pottery?”
She dove down again, deeper this time, fighting her own reflex, letting him feel the tight, convulsing squeeze of her throat.Her nose pressed into the coarse hair at his base. She moaned, the vibration making him curse and his hips jerk forward. She pulled off, gasping for air, a line of spit connecting her lip to his shining cock.
“I’m gonna fuck you better than she ever has,” Kelly said, her voice ragged. She str