Before the shudders completely dominated her body, I gave her several quick, hard thrusts.
It was those strokes that set off the tingles in my balls, that sent my orgasm rippling through me, the cum shooting from my cock. “Alivia!” Her name blasted from my lips. “Fuck!”
She locked our mouths together, moaning into mine, and when I separated us, I roared, “You’re fucking milking me.” Because each time I punched my cock upward, burying myself in her, her pussy clenched me tighter, draining the cum out of me.
Our shudders quieted, and fully empty, I kissed her again.
This time slow. Soft. And as sweet as I knew how while I gently pulled my finger out of her ass.
“Mmm, Walker. I liked that.” She slid through my hair as though she was soothing what she’d been trying to rip out.
“I knew you would.”
She nuzzled her nose into mine and then put some distance between our faces. “I had no idea making such a simple dessert would turn into this.”
“I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t make homemade ice cream.”
She stared at me silently for a moment, her blue eyes so fucking bright. “Why do you say that?”
“Because cold on your pussy will feel much different than hot.”
As she laughed, I leaned into her neck,the flavor of the chocolate still present on her skin. “I do have some in the freezer if you want to try it.”
She gasped, “Now?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my God.” She pounded my chest with her fist. “You’re insatiable.”
“Baby, so are you.”
THIRTY-TWO
Alivia
Walker was up to something. I could tell by the way he’d left the bedroom so early in the morning and how, when his phone had rung, he’d told the person to hold on, and he took the call in his office, shutting the door behind him.
He never closed me out.
He never took calls in private even if they were work-related.
Curiosity forced me out of bed, so I went into the kitchen, and while the coffee maker was working its magic, I started breakfast. A quick peek into the fridge gave me all the inspiration I needed. Toasted sourdough with a heavy spread of avocado, smoked salmon, poached eggs, microgreens, and a drizzle of balsamic glaze on top.
It took no time to whip it up, and just as I was setting his plate and coffee on the island, mixed to his liking, I heard him enter the kitchen, his steps too heavy to hide.
Instead of acknowledging him, I filled my handswith my coffee and plate, and as I was headed for the island again to place it all next to his, I heard, “Smells amazing.”
Before I took a seat, I turned toward him, smiling. He was leaning into the side of the tall cabinets, watching me with his arms crossed. He had on a pair of gray sweatpants and nothing else. I could see the outline of his tip through the fabric, and I about lost it. That feeling only worsened when I took in the muscles in his arms and the ones in his pecs.
Perfection. That was what he was.
But as I gazed up, it was his eyes that completely captured me. A stare that made me feel as though I were standing here naked.
“Hungry?” I giggled, knowing just how he was going to take that question.
“Fucking starving.”
I pointed at the barstool next to me. “Come sit and eat—your breakfast, I mean.”
