She cooked for me?
My damn hands shake when I snatch the note up.
Flint,
I figured you might be hungry, so I made you dinner. I hope you found all of your missing cows.
Saoirse
I run my thumb over her name, my heart thudding against my ribcage. I can’t remember the last time someone cooked for me who wasn’t hired to do it.
I peel the foil off the plate, and my mouth immediately starts watering. The plate is heaped with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans.
I don’t even bother heating it before I tear into it, eating like I’m starving. Saoirse may never have lived on her own, but she damn sure knows how to cook. I devour every bite, and then consider licking the plate before deciding that’s probably overdoing it.
Once my plate is washed, I stride down the hall, intending to shower and then sleep, but I pause outside the door to the guestroom, hesitating. She’s on the other side, sleeping.
Is she naked? Dreaming about me?
I crack the door open, peeking inside.
“Fuck,” I whisper, my dick immediately turning to steel. She’s half on her back, one leg bent so her ass is partially in the air. The only thing covering it is a tiny strip of fabric between her plump cheeks.
I squeeze my cock through my pants, willing the hard bastard to stand down, but she shifts, mumbling softly, and he only grows harder. I ease the door closed before I do something unhinged and haul ass down the hall.
Somehow, I make it into the shower before I take myself in hand, replaying the image of her in that bed as I jerk myself off in rough pulls. When I come, it’s her name on my lips. And even then, my dick stays hard, desperate for the real thing.
The sun isn’t evenup when I haul myself out of bed on Sunday, prepared to help work on the new run so we can get it finished. Surprisingly, Saoirse is already in the kitchen, curled up at the island, nursing a cup of coffee while reading something on her tablet.
“Hey,” she says, glancing up at me when I stroll in.
“Morning, Sugar Plum.” I go straight for the coffee. I barely slept last night. All I could think about was her in that bed, her ass in the air. My cock is raw this morning, but the bastard still twitches when I look at her.
“Did you find all of your cows?” she asks sweetly.
“We did.” I take a sip and then stride toward her, eager to taste her now that I’ve got caffeine in my system. I sidle up behind her, leaning down to nuzzle her throat. She jumps slightly and then melts against me. “Thank you for dinner.”
“I figured you might be hungry.”
“Starving,” I growl, flicking my tongue across the pulse beating wildly in her throat.
She whimpers softly, and I damn near come unglued.
Instead, I flick her pulse with my tongue again, just to feel the way it jumps in response. Goddamn. She’s going to be perfect when she’s wrapped around me, blowing my mind. But… not yet.
“I’ll be home for dinner tonight, Sugar Plum. I’m cooking for you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
I sink my hand into her hair, tipping her head back until her eyes meet mine. “I’m cooking for you, Saoirse.”
Her tongue flicks her bottom lip, her eyes wide. “Okay,” she whispers.
“You going to be my dessert?”
“I…”
I groan, kissing her hard and deep. She doesn’t flip out on me or pull away. Instead, she whimpers against my lips. I spin her on her stool to give us a better angle. As soon as I do, her hands fly to my hair like she’s trying to anchor me to her and keep me rightthere. I devour her, licking into her mouth until I’m sure she’ll taste me for hours.
