My Clocking In System

Chapter 26: Morning I

I woke to her mouth on me.

For a second I didn’t know anything. Not the room. Not the bed. Not my own body. Just warm and slow and dark.

Some animal part of me reached for the old Pembury flat. The box room. The damp.

The boiler that never held through the night. Then the rest of me caught up. The bed was too small for that one. The cold that always sat on my face there, off the gap in the window frame, wasn’t on it.

The smell was wrong, cotton and steam-iron where there should have been damp. And there was a heat low down on me that no morning at Pembury had ever once come with.

Then I placed it.

Ah! Jodie. Jodie’s flat. Jodie’s bed.

The morning resolved around me a piece at a time. Low ceiling. A lamp still burning from the night before, gone weak and yellow against the grey at the window.

The half-made dress on the machine in the corner.

The Carter dress, the one she’d told me about across the table yesterday, hanging there like a held breath. The bedside table beside me, my phone on it, face down, where I’d left it last night.

Outside and two floors down, a bin lorry was working its slow way along the street. Seven, then. Maybe just short of it.

And under the duvet, down at my hip, her mouth wrapped warm and slow around my cock.

I was already hard in it. Of course I was. She’d seen to that.

Fuck.

Her hand was at the base of me. Fingers loose. Her tongue moved slowly along the underside. I lay there one frozen heartbeat, trying to work out whether I was still dreaming it.

I wasn’t.

"Jodie," I said. My voice came out wrecked. Sleep still in it.

She didn’t stop. She hummed instead, low and pleased, and the sound went up my spine and curled my toes against the sheet. The duvet shifted and her face came up into the weak lamplight.

Dark-gold hair a wreck across the pillow. The half-smile already starting at one corner of her mouth. She held my eye and slid down me slow, taking more, until I felt the back of her throat.

"Morning," she said, pulling off just long enough to say it. Lips wet and shining. Hand still working me. "Don’t get used to it. I’m only this nice the first morning."

"God."

"You were lying there looking all peaceful." She licked up the length of me. Eyes up the whole time. "Couldn’t have that."

She took me back in her mouth before I could answer.

I gave up trying to talk. Let my head go back against the pillow and let her have it. There was no rush in her at all. Mouth and hand together. Slow. Deep. The wet sound of it filling the small warm room. Her free hand sliding down to cup my balls, rolling them slow in her palm every time she sank down.

Then she changed it on me.

She lifted her mouth clean off and worked me with just her slick fist. Slow twists. Her tongue flicking light at the head, watching what it did to my face.

"Mm." Low and pleased. "There it is. You’re so hard, Danny."

I lifted up into her hand without meaning to. Wanting the heat of her mouth back.

She gave it back. Folded down over me without warning and took me in one slow drop, and the change of it after the cold air punched a sound out of me.

"Fuck."

When she took me to the root she didn’t pull off. Just held there. Swallowing around the head. Eyes watering and locked on mine. Daring me. Her throat working on my cock and her eyes never once leaving mine.

I made the sound she wanted.

"Fuck. Jodie."

She came up with a gasp, a string of wet breaking between her lip and the head of my cock, and grinned at me like she’d won something.

"There he is." Her hand kept moving. Slick now. Twisting at the top in the way that lifted my hips off the bed without my say-so. "You’re loud in the mornings. Noted. Filing it."

"You’re going to," I started, and lost it when her thumb dragged over the head, "you’re going to kill me."

"Not before breakfast." She bent back to it.

She took me deep again and set a rhythm. Faster this time. Hand and mouth moving as one. Her other hand cupping my balls again, kneading them in time with her mouth.

I felt it climbing the base of my spine, quick and hot. I got a hand into her hair. Not pulling. Just there. Just needing to hold something. She moaned around me like she liked the weight of it.

Mmh.

My other hand found the tit pressed warm against my thigh and I palmed it. Soft and heavy and full, the nipple stiffened against the centre of my hand. I’d wanted these for eleven years.

The shape of them through a school jumper. The guessing.

And now the real weight of one of them in my hand at seven in the morning, while she had her mouth full of me. I rolled the nipple slow under my thumb and she hummed harder around me and pushed her chest into my palm.

The lamplight moved on her bare back. The dip of her spine. The curve of her where the duvet had fallen off. Jodie Carter. Naked in her own bed. Her mouth full of me. The day was coming up grey at the window. The sight of her did as much as the mouth did.

I want to come in her mouth. I want her to take all of it. I want to give her every morning that comes after this one too.

"I’m close," I told her. Because she’d want telling. Because she was the kind of woman who’d want to know. "Jodie. I’m close."

She didn’t pull off.

She did the opposite. Took me deeper. Hand gripping the base. Her other hand sliding up to press flat against my stomach. She looked up at me with her eyes watering and her cheeks hollowed and she did not stop.

That was the thing that finished me. The deliberateness of it. The choosing. The give it to me in her face with no room left to say it out loud.

I tried to hold it. Tried to make it last. Tried to give her back some of the slow she’d given me. I couldn’t. My balls drew up tight and that was the end of it.

"Fuck. Jodie. I’m."

I came in her mouth.

Hard.

My hips came up off the bed and my hand fisted in her hair and I emptied into her in long pulses. She stayed down through all of it. Swallowing. Her throat working around the head.

A low hum of satisfaction in her chest the whole way through. I felt every pulse leave me. I felt her take it. My vision went pale at the edges and a sound came out of me I didn’t know as mine.

When it stopped, she stayed a moment longer. Gentle now. Soft suction. Drawing the last of it out until I was too sensitive and twitched away from her. Only then did she let me slip from her mouth.

She wiped the corner of her lip with her thumb. Sucked it clean. Looked supremely pleased with herself.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," I said. The ceiling was still moving slightly.

She crawled up the bed and dropped against my side. One leg thrown over mine. Her head on my chest. Her hair was everywhere. I could feel her grinning against my skin.

"Your heart’s going like a hammer."

"Whose fault’s that?"

"Mine." Not an ounce of regret in it. "Entirely mine. I’m taking full credit."

Somewhere on the bedside table the phone buzzed once. Dark. Face down. Neither of us looked at it.

I lay there with my hand in her hair. Her grin against my chest. My heart was slowing.

Last night I was the seventeen-year-old who never got to.

This morning I’m the man who gets to keep her.