Page 69 of Soft Flannel Hank

“It’s a small town,” she said, gasping as he bit her bottom lip with sharp teeth. “I figured you’d find me.”

“Twice. You left twice.” His voice was quiet with fury.

“I didn’t—”

“You will. I heard you tell your cousin.Youcan’t waitto leave.”

He bit the last sentence out and stepped away from her. She whined as he removed his body from hers, as he starved her of the heat and heft that she’d been craving.

“That’s not—I didn’t—”

“You didn’t say it?”

“I did say it. But that’s not what I meant.”

“How else could you possibly mean it, Esther?” he shouted. “What the fuck else could that possibly mean?”

She leapt off the counter and stood toe to toe with him. “Goddammit, you fucking stubborn ass! Shannon is sending me something that might help me fight back!I can’t waitto go and take back my fucking life! If you weren’t so consumed being a goddamn wounded animal, you might have thought to ask me what I meant!”

He lifted his hand, as if to cup her cheek, but pulled it back against his chest.

“You don’t want to leave?” he asked, his voice a gravelly whisper.

“I didn’t,” she said, not ready to let go of the anger.

“And now?” he croaked.

Her heart lurched. There he was. Her broken, left-behind, never-good-enough-for-anyone-to-stay man.

She gripped his shirt in her other fist and pulled him down, pressing her lips to his. He kissed her back, banding both of his arms around her and crushing her against him. Their tongues tangled and Esther felt the scratch of his beard against her lips, her chin, her nose.

“I thought you’d be happier if I left,” she said as she kissed his neck, her tongue catching the salt of his sweat, making her brain light up like a switchboard with the tastes and smells of him.

“No,” he said vehemently.

“I make you miserable.”

“You—what are you doing?”

She unbuckled his belt and undid the button and fly on his jeans, kissing down the exposed triangle of his hairy chest.

“Esther,” he groaned. “Sweetheart, no.” He tried to pull her up.

“No because you don’t want it, or no because you feel guilty for wanting it?”

When he didn’t answer, she grabbed the waistband of his boxer briefs and pulled them down enough to free his cock. He groaned. She gripped him in her hand and stroked him roughly. He shuddered. She pushed him across the kitchen until his ass met the counter in between the fridge and the stove, where she’d kissed him the day before, where it had gone so differently.

“You don’t make me miserable,” he panted. “You scare the shit out of me.”

“Spread your feet so I can reach,” she commanded as she dropped to her knees. He did, and his knees buckled as she took the head of his cock into her mouth without pretense. With bent knees, he pressed back into the counter. Esther spit on his cock and then slid her mouth down as far as she could until he pressed against the back of her throat. And then she swallowed.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh, fuck, sweetheart. It’s never been like that.”

Esther smiled around a mouthful of him, humming in satisfaction as she bobbed her head up and down a few times, reaching her fingers into the recesses of his boxer briefs until she found his balls and cupped them in her hand, pressing two fingertips against the flat space behind them, which made him buck into her mouth.

“Sorry. Oh, fuck, I’m sorry,” he said.

Hank tried to pull out of her mouth but she gripped the back of his thigh with her other hand and held him close, sucking gently on the head again.