K. Golland - Attainment

“Hmm, I know,” she moans, arching her head back further, her lips reaching for mine.

Lowering my head so that I can give her what she wants, what I want—what I always want, to taste her—I savour the feel of her sweet warm mouth, the soft silky glide of her tongue against mine. She tastes like the most delectable form of oral consumption known to man, and I am the lucky son of a bitch who solely gets to consume her.

Regretfully, I separate my mouth from hers and pull away. “I have a little work to do.”

She pouts, and it’s so fucking lovable. “Fine, you important business man. I have a date with a very naughty priest anyway.”

What naughty priest? This is the first I’ve heard of Alexis being religious.

I pull my head back from her in slight disbelief. “Priest?”

“Yes, Father Stearns.”

“Are you Catholic?”

“No. But after reading this book, I’m thinking of possibly converting.”

“What book?”

She laughs and gives me a little shove. “Never mind. Go, go and do what you do.”

I take a few steps backward in the direction of my office, still confused by this Stearns bloke.

Still laughing, Alexis blows me a kiss. “Don’t look so concerned.”

“I’m not. I’m not scared of a priest.”

As I turn and open the door to my office, I hear her mumble something barely audible until I hear the word clown.

I pause.

“I love you,” she calls out, giggling.

“Hmmm,” is my only response.

I spend the next hour looking up baby names beginning with the letter B. Let’s just ignore the fact that I am supposed to be finalising the complex’s involvement in the upcoming AFL Grand Final celebrations, because the thought of giving my son a name is far more important.

“Bailey,” I say to myself. Nah, too much like Irish Cream. “Bane,” I voice with a wishy-washy tone. Hmmm.

I decide to check the meaning behind that particular name. “Son of a farmer.” No, that won’t do, although, he is the grandson of a farmer.

I keep scanning.

“Beaver?”  Are you fucking for real, who would call their son Beaver? “Bowel?” Now that’s just cruel. I shake my head and keep reading down the list. “Boyd.” Maybe. It does say that Boyd means blonde haired, and I’m fairly certain our son will be blonde.

Scanning further down the list, I spot my name. Curious as to its meaning, I read on. “Ambitious and quick minded,” I smile and nod. Fuckin’ oath, I am.

My phone rings, breaking my attention to the name searching. I pick it up and notice Derek’s goofy looking face on my screen. “Hey, Mate. What’s goin’ on?”

“I was thinking ‘bout the intro song for the next gig. How ‘bout ‘Birth’ by 30STM?” Derek suggests, apparently forgetting the courtesy of a greeting.

“Yeah, nice! Have you spoken to Will about it? That song is all about the drums.”

“Yeah, Will’s on board.”

“Good. I guess we open with ‘Birth’ then,” I reply, still gazing at the list of names on the screen in front of me.

“You busy?”

“No, not really. Just lookin’ up baby names.”

“Call the little tacker Derek.”

“Fuck off, Dickhead. I’m not calling him Derek.”

“Why? It means big knob.”

I roll my eyes even though he can’t see it. “Yeah, you can say that again.”

Ignoring my insult, Derek continues. “He who owns largest cock. Almighty and powerful with massive dong.”

While he’s spinning bullshit into my ear, I look up the real meaning of his name. “You are bloody shittin’ me,” I say out loud.

“What? You just looked up my name, didn’t you? What’s it say? It says big cock doesn’t it?”

“No. It says full of shit,” I answer, closing the subject when really it had said ‘the people’s ruler’. I’ll be damned if I’m going to tell him that, he loves and worships himself enough as it is.

“What did it say? I wanna know.”

“Look it up yourself. Hey, while I’ve got you, Alexis wanted to know if you and Carly could come round for dinner tonight.”

“I’ll check with the Mrs and get back to you. It should be fine though. Hey, you cookin’?”

I smile at his reference to Carly as his ‘Mrs’. Derek has never been the settling down type. For some reason though, Carly has managed to whip his playboy ways into submission.

“Yeah, I’m cookin’. Ain’t I always?”

“I want that pasta stuff you made a while back.”

I know which ‘pasta stuff’ he is referring to because he helped himself to about four servings. “No can do. It has ricotta in it. Alexis can’t eat that. It could be harmful to the baby.”

“Ah, shit!” he groans.

“I’ll do a lasagna. That alright?”

“Done.”

“Good. Talk to Carly and let me know. Dinner is at 6 p.m.”

“Will do, Mate.”

We disconnect the call, and I return my attention back to the names in front of me. So far I’ve jotted down Boyd and Billy. I lean back in my chair and run my hands through my hair, feeling frustrated. How can you name your son when you haven’t seen him yet? What if he doesn’t look like a Billy or a Boyd?

I decide to give up my search for the time being and discuss it with Alexis later...in bed...where I hold all the power.

Locking my fingers together behind my head, I smile satisfactorily to myself, now visualising her on the cusp of climax, her orgasm teetering on the very edge ready to wash over her in sensational waves. The mental picture I now have affords me a sense of total domination, not to mention a stiff dick. Because it’s in those moments when she is lying underneath me that she will do and say anything I ask. It’s in those moments where I hold the supremacy. Those moments are my favourite form of control.

“Mmmm, that smells delicious,” Alexis moans from behind as she wraps her arms around my waist.

Just the sound of her moan—whether or not it holds a sexual undertone—stirs my dick within my pants. How she manages to do this to me so often has me perplexed...but not in a bad way.

“Here, have a taste.” I turn to face her and hold up a spoon containing some of my bolognese sauce for her to try.

Watching as she gently blows the spoon through her sweet plump lips, my dick now decides that he too, wants in on some of her blowing action.

She takes the spoon into her mouth, her lips pressing together around the stainless steel implement, and I can’t help but watch like it’s the most intriguing sight to be seen by anyone, anytime. Suddenly, the lids of her eyes spring apart, and her intently focussed and astonished stare finds mine. Appreciation radiates from her face as I drag the spoon back out of her mouth, deliberately wiping some of the remnants across her lips and chin as I remove it. She raises her hand to wipe my apparent clumsy smear when I gently grab it mid-raise. Our eyes lock, ignite, and burn each other with intense passion, love, yearning, and lust.

Slowly shaking my head at her and indicating that she not wipe her face, I bring her hand to my lips, pressing a soft kiss on her wrist. She smells like flowers and musk, and her skin delicately caresses my face as I drag my cheek and lips across it.

As I softly place each kiss up the inside of her arm—gradually making my way to my destination—her breathing becomes rapid, her chest rising and falling in short bursts. I can’t help but notice her eyelids flutter with each press of my lips, together with the subtle shade of pink forming across both of her cheeks.

Smiling the fulfilment of a man who knows how to satisfy his woman, I let go of her hand as my mouth reaches her neck, nibbling and sucking her most sensitive spots.

“You are so good at that,” she praises me as she sucks in a ragged breath.

“Hunny, I’m fucking good at a lot of things,” I mumble into her skin.

Threading her hands into my hair, she grips it tightly. “Don’t I know it.”

Alexis tugs my head mildly, yet with enough assertiveness to send a searing jolt of wicked excitement right through me and down to my twitching cock. A cock which is aware of its pending duty to stiffen and take form, rubbing the satin of my boxer shorts and hardening against my denim jeans. The newly confined space in my pants gives me the increasing urge to unleash my erection and slide it into her warm wet pussy.

I know she’s wet; it never takes me long to have her drenched with arousal. Fuck!

“Alexis,” I growl, as I push my hips against her and raise my lips to the corner of her mouth. With a quick glide of my tongue, I remove the sauce I deliberately planted there. She doesn’t allow me long to linger at that spot, seizing my mouth with her own in an aggressive yet passionate attack. We taste each other, suck each other, lick each other, and moan one another’s name.

Alexis reaches between us and undoes my fly, the sound of the zipper’s release assisting my already hardened state. She yanks down my jeans and boxer shorts in one swift move, allowing my cock to spring free with relief, only to be surrounded once again, yet this time by warm and possessive hands. Frenzied and visibly hankering, she grips my shaft and then slowly glides both hands up it as though she is praying to God for the privilege. Little does she know the privilege is all mine.

 “Hunny, I fucking love it when you stroke me like that,” I groan into her mouth before licking her bottom lip teasingly.

She runs her tongue over the spot I have just tasted and pulls away slightly. “What else do you fucking love me doing to your cock?” she asks, wicked intentions blaring from her.