The Clinic Swore the Baby Was His, So He Stayed When It Wasn't novel · Chapter 4 of 24

Chapter 4: Kitchen Counter

The soup sat on the stove and neither of us touched it.

His kitchen was warm and bright and smelled of woodsmoke from our hair.

I stood on the cold tile in a damp towel with the lake still shining on my skin.

Mats stood in front of me with a second towel around his hips and his hands hanging open at his sides.

"You can still go home," he said.

"I know I can."

"You can eat soup, and I'll drive you."

"Captain," I said.

"Yes."

"Take your towel off."

He took it off.

He was hard again already, and he did not hide it.

I let mine fall to the floor and stepped up against him, bare, and put my mouth on his chest.

He tasted of salt and cedar.

His arms came around me, and I felt every inch of him pressed against my stomach.

"Up," I said.

I went up on the counter myself, with my hands behind me on the cold stone, and the shock of it ran up my spine.

I opened my knees.

Mats looked at me, at all of me, in the bright light over the sink.

"I want you on your knees, Captain," I said. "Not the sauna kind of looking. I want your mouth."

His breath went out of him.

He went down slowly onto the tile, put his hands on my thighs, and spread them wider.

"Tell me if it's too much," he said.

"It won't be."

He put his mouth on me.

The first stroke of his tongue was long and flat and slow, and I grabbed the edge of the counter.

"Oh," I said. "Oh, fuck."

He licked up through me again, taking his time, and then he found my clit with the tip of his tongue and circled it.

I could not stay still.

I put one hand in his hair and the other flat on the stone behind me, and my heels dug into his shoulders.

He groaned into me, and the sound ran through my whole body.

"That's it," I said. "Right there. Don't move."

He didn't move.

He held my hips down with both hands, and his tongue worked in small tight circles until I was shaking.

"You taste better than the lake," he said, against me.

"Shut up and keep going."

He laughed, and the laugh went through me too.

He slid two fingers inside me, slowly, and curved them, and the pressure inside met the pressure of his tongue, and I came apart.

It broke over me hard, and I cried out, loud, in his bright kitchen, with the black lake in the window.

He kept his mouth on me through every pulse of it.

When I finally pushed at his head, he lifted his face.

It was wet and flushed and utterly pleased.

"You taste like I thought you would," he said.

"How did you think I would taste?"

"Like the one place I'd want to stay."

I laughed, breathless, and dragged him up by the shoulders and kissed him, tasting myself on his mouth.

"Bed," I said. "Upstairs."

He lifted me off the counter without any trouble at all.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, and he carried me up the stairs, kissing me every third step.

His bedroom faced the lake.

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