Confounded: Part II - 12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12 --==Taylan’s POV==--

Later that night, as I was getting ready for bed, Mitchell stepped quietly into the bedroom. Closing the door, he then leaned against it as I was doing my normal routine. Ever since that afternoon, I’d been binging on Oprah in here, telling Kit to order take out for dinner and that I wasn’t hungry. I still wasn’t. I was mad. At myself.

I couldn’t believe that I’d actually said that. Fine, it had been in the heat of the argument, where we say lots of things that we don’t actually mean. But still…divorce? It’d been Mitchell’s right to completely blow a gasket, and he had. And then some. I’d regretted it the moment I’d said it, but the moment to take it back had not even come; he’d pretty much made it impossible to even think much less talk or apologize.

So now I was pretty anxious. Toyed with the idea of going to him, but he’d be pretty pissed still, even more so because I’d used Kit to relay the message of sleeping in the spare room. Imagine my relief when I saw him come into our bedroom.

“So…am I in the doghouse?” he asked, quite timidly for his normal behavior, and I groaned inwardly. This wasn’t his fault; like Kit had said, this one was all on me.

“No.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No.”
I sniffled. Dammit.
“Never.”
He stayed quiet for a while.

“Don’t ever say that to me again, Slattery. Ever. I’ll never hit you, but God…I wanted to, this afternoon.”
I hung my head and tried to fight the waterworks but dammit; there they came.

Without saying a word I went over and walked straight into him, burying my face into his shirt and hugging him as tightly as I could, wrapping my arms around him. Thankful that the shirt at least muffled the sound, I let go for a good cry of shame and self pity.

“Oh no….C’mon Tay…don’t do that…”
Mitchell’s arms closed around me and he rocked us both, hugging me equally tight.
“Listen to me; I love you, I’d never hit you. I was just saying…”

“No, you idiot, that’s not why I’m crying,” I hiccupped, talking into the shirt. “I’m a shit for saying that. I regretted it the moment it flew out of my mouth.”

“Oh…well….yes, you’re a shit, then.”
I thumped his back with a balled fist and he softly laughed.
“It’s true. I know I can be an ass but wow, you took the crown, this afternoon. You wouldn’t believe how mad that made me.”

“I believe it.”
I withdrew my head from his chest and looked him straight in the eye.
“I’m sorry. Very sorry. Forgive me?”

“Always.”
He smiled warmly.

“Forgotten?”

“Yes.”

It meant that if we got into another fight, this subject was not to ever be drawn into it again. We’d made that deal years ago and had stuck to it ever since. Sometimes, the answer was maybe, or even no, and then it was open season until it became a yes. Which usually happened very quickly; our fights are always big, but they’re short-lived. I think the longest we’d ever had was a little over a full day.

“So when I told you that I love you, what is the usual response?”

“Umm…Thank you?” His arms tightened around me until I gave in. “Alright, alright: I give! Sheesh! I love you too, you walking alp!”
He smiled smugly and leaned in for a kiss, and began walking us into the direction of the bed.
“I still need to take a shower!” I protested as he peeled my shirt off.

“After,” he said shaking his head.

“After what?”

“Make-up sex.”

“We already made up,” I replied, snickering when he sent me a devious eyebrow wiggle.

“Verbally, yes. Physically, no.”

I knew very well that what was about to happen; it would be hot, fast and very, very satisfying. And he knew it too. It always was.

With one hand he still held onto me; with the other, he began opening his zipper and pulled himself out; his rigid cock sprang up when it was released from its confinement, and I swallowed, my mouth dry. Dammit. I wanted him.

“Try to be quiet.”

Yeah, right.

He turned me around and pushed my upper body onto the bed; then, instead of yanking my briefs down, he simply pulled them to the side and kneeled behind me, before I could voice another protest.

His tongue hit me dead center, and I gasped loudly; god, that felt good.

He spent the next two minutes giving me a rimming that had me writhing beneath his agile tongue, making me slick and wet using a lot of spit. Softly biting the tender flesh of my ass, he quickly got me ready for him. Then he rose and set the tip of his thick pole against me, and pushed in. He slid inside without much trouble, teasing me with the head, pulling out and in, over and over. He liked playing with me that way.

Bucking underneath him, I started to moan.

“Fuck,” I panted, squeezing on that shaft of delight. He knew exactly how. “Bastard.”

And I gasped again as he inserted half his length.

“Bastard?” he asked. I looked over my shoulder, and he softly chuckled, watching as his cock teased me.

Then he suddenly shoved it inside fully, impaled me, pushing his balls tightly against me. I cried out in pleasure as I was stretched to my limits; he began to fuck me hard, pulling half way out of me and driving it back in, making his balls slap loudly against my flesh.

“Shhh! Quiet!”

Quiet? Fucking me like this, and expecting me to be quiet? This was basic rutting. It was hot! I didn’t care if anyone heard me or not; this was pure heaven! Feeling him twitch inside, getting even harder, the thick knob rubbing my insides, scratching me.

Squeezing tightly around him, I started to move against him, further enhancing the feelings his hard pole was sending through the nerve endings of my sphincter.

He could keep this up for quite a while. I couldn’t. Within minutes, I felt the juice boiling up from my balls. I started pulling at the t-shirt I was still wearing; if I was going to blow, better on that than on the bed linens. I just washed them.

“No, keep it on,” he breathed, having begun to pant. “Looks horny, seeing just your ass and my cock. Fuck, you’re so tight!”

Screw it, then.

“I wanna stay inside you forever.”

He rode me even harder, laying his hands on my ass, slapping me a few times, which made me tense up, in turn clamping down on him. Another slap; god, he did it hard. And I loved it.

We’ve always had good sex. Long or fast, but always very satisfying. It was for me, anyway. Mitchell usually took several times; he had a big libido to satisfy. Twice or three times was no exception.

“I’m gonna come,” I moaned.

“Yeah, come for me,” he stirred, upping his pace, and angling his cock just so that it hit my prostate repeatedly. It wouldn’t take long, now.

Bumping it with his blunt smooth tip, it enticed my seed to come out and meet the linens, the orgasm flashing through me. As usual, with hot sex this good, I almost passed out; it felt that good.

“Yeah,” he whispered, panting, “that’s it. Ride that cock.”

He only spoke to me this way in the bedroom, and it always turned me on. In the beginning, I’d thought it kinky, and so not him, but it had taken very little time to get used to it. These days, we liked to make it a little dirty, stirring each other with horny words, pushing each other toward the edge.

“Shoot it on my ass,” I moaned, still shuddering in the aftershock of my own orgasm.

“Yeah,” he moaned, louder now. He was getting there. And he was still nudging my prostate; fuck!

Making his balls slap every second now, racing for the finish, he greased his way toward his own orgasm, pulling out just in time for the first splash to hit my itching cavity. Then I felt it spray out, as he jerked it up from his sac, using his other hand to massage it into the smooth flesh of my ass.

Continuing to milk himself for the final drop, I let myself fall forward, my arms shaking with fatigue; I’d pushed myself up during our lovemaking, and muscle ache was beginning to set in. Heavily panting and sweating, I just lay there while he finished. At least, that’s what I thought. Then I felt both his hands on my ass again, as he knelt down and licked me, just above my well ridden hole.

“Oh god, stop,” I groaned, not even bothering to get up.

He softly chuckled, licking me clean. The sounds he made as he did so, and the touch of his agile tongue, gathering up all the juices he’d expelled, kept me in the mood, and he knew it. He wasn’t finished yet; this had just been the start.

Concentrating on his tongue, as it once again hit my center and then beginning slow, repeated insertions, I just closed my eyes and enjoyed the ride. His hand, cupping my balls and gently rolling them, felt warm and experienced and when the other travelled up and a finger entered me easily, I couldn’t help but grin and started to writhe again.

“Shhh,” he cooed, giving me one last lick and rising. “Patience.”
I rolled onto my back and saw him looking down on me, hungrily taking in the sight. I was far from hard again but he was still semi-erect, his cock swaying as he undressed completely.

I removed my own shirt now and was about to slide my briefs down when he kneeled on the bed, stopping my hands and shaking his head.

“Why?” I asked, quasi-suspiciously.
He wanted to do it, obviously.

I scooted backwards and he followed me, crawling up over me, his gaze warm and loving.

“I love you,” he then said, lowering his head.
Hovering above my lips, he waited for me to reply, our eyes seeing nothing else but the others’.

When I whispered it, he closed the distance, kissing me deeply and lowered himself on me, pressing me into the mattress with his weight. Rolling us over, so we’d both lay on our sides, we just kissed and touched, exploring and enjoying. Discovering was a thing long past, but I still liked the way he reacted to my touch. He always made it seem like it was a newly discovered area.

Slowly peeling my briefs down, and finally off, he held me as close as possible, deeply probing my mouth; then he rolled on top of me again and worked, gently, lazily, until my knees were hooked in the crook of his arms, as he rose above me.

This time, he entered me slowly, deliberately and without stooping even once, until he was fully buried inside, his eyes intensely staring into mine. Breathing evenly, he started to move, then, occasionally brushing my lips, steadily fucking.

I preferred this position above any others; to watch him work himself, and me, to new heights, restraining himself to not be tempted into higher gear but continue to take it slow, and deep and making me feel utterly loved. It could take fifteen minutes, half an hour; it didn’t matter; all that mattered was us. The here, the now…