She was up before him. Teeth, shower, breakfast. She’d made tea them both, and shoved two slices of bread into the toaster. The buzz of the timer pushed against her head in the most infuriating way. She regretted the glass of wine the night before. Glasses.
The toaster pinged. The toast came out. Butter, knife, spread. She was halfway through the second when the hand settled on her shoulder. Lips against her ear. Stubble against her neck.
"I woke up hard. You’re going to deal with it." His voice purred, a big game purr, bass and threat. Her eyes flashed wide.
She swallowed and cleared her throat, the knife slipping out of her hand, forgotten.
"Umm." Another swallow. "How do you.." She didn’t find the end of the question, his hand at her shoulder pulling her around, the other hand slipping under the curve of her rear and lifting her up onto the counter. Her voice just trailed off into an ‘oh’, all sleepy, all surprise.
The hand at her rear found her underwear, pulled it down at away, bunched around her knees. The aggression and speed with which he was stripping her sent electric jolts through her spine, had her brain swimming in a sea of sudden, unexpected lust. Eyes lidded, lashes fluttered, and one hand came up to press against her mouth.
"Wait.." She murmured, although she wasn’t sure why. It didn’t matter, though, because he ignored her, pyjamas falling around his ankles as he guided himself to her, that wide head flaring her open, another ‘oh’ falling from her lips. Then a moan. Then a gasp.
Sunlight flooded the room. Raw, base need flooded her.
(Source: , via rolloloves-deactivated20120909)