MayDay:I’m gonna start calling you Dad, Augie
Penny:Pls don’t. He’s my boyfriend. I can’t cross the streams
JuneBug:WHA?
MayDay:Like for reals???
MadMarch:knew it
Penny:Um
BestLuck:;-)
Pen
Though we haven’t formally discussed things, August comes over every night he’s not out of town. I guess we’re living together in a way, but it’s more like we can’t seem to be apart and make the effort for that not to happen. And I like it. Ireallylike it that he comes home to me.
The thought enters my mind again when I hear the front door open and August call out, “Where’s my girl?”
A happy smile forms as I shout back that I’m in the kitchen.
It’s evening now. Golden light sits heavily on the trees and glitters on the pool’s surface. I’ve spent the day studying and writing papers—despite August’s chiding—and then vacuumed the house, which is my least favorite chore. Now I’m relaxing by listening to Goldfrapp and cleaning off the vegetables I harvested from the garden earlier. It isn’t something I ever thought I’d enjoy but here we are. These tomatoes are thriving because I tended to them, and I find it satisfying. Besides, they taste damn good.
A pair of big hands settle on my hips, as soft lips find the exposed column of my neck. “Hey.”
Smiling, I reach back to cup his cheek. “Hello.”
His mouth roams over my sensitive skin. “Whatcha doing?”
“Prepping dinner. I hope you’re ready to eat.”
“As it happens...” With a deft move, he spins me around and sets me on the counter. A grin flashes before he kisses me. Soft, deep, luscious. I melt into it with a gasp, my hands wrapping around his neck to keep him close.
I haven’t fully disclosed everything to August regarding sex. He doesn’t know that I never got involved with anyone else because I only wanted him. Confessing that might sound stalkerish. And, in all honesty, I didn’twantto be so hung up on August that all others left me cold. I’d found myself annoyed by my body’s stubborn resistance to alternate lovers, and its equally stubborn insistence on havinghim. It’s an awful thing to crave someone who never looks your way.
Now that’s changed. And there are times—many times lately—that I feel as if I’m navigating a dream. He wants me as much as I want him. There’s a heady joy in that. But it’s not like the pretty fantasies I had as a teenager. Sex is messy, sweaty, tiring, addicting. Freaking perfect.
Had I known what I was missing, I just might have—as August suggested—burst long ago. I’m glad I didn’t know. I’m exceptionally glad I found out with him.
Clever fingers trail up my hips and snag the waistband of my panties. He pulls them down with a dark chuckle as I make a small sound of shock.
“August . . .”
My panties fly across the kitchen, and he sinks to his knees and eases my thighs apart. Now eye level with my pussy, August hums in satisfaction. The sound sends a hot thrill through my core.
“What are you—”
He tugs me forward and presses his mouth against the plump swell of my clit. “Eating,” he says with a proprietary lick.
And it feels so good. There’s nothing like it...
A groan tears out of me as he feasts. Weakly, I grasp the silky strands of his hair and hold on, hold him closer. The kitchen fills with the lewd sounds of his mouth on my slick flesh and my needy cries.
We don’t speak for a long while. Not when I finally come, gasping and trembling. Not when he eventually stands and unzips to free his hard length to sink it into me. Not until the sun sinks behind the trees and we’re both breathless and shaking from our exertions.
And all I can think is:Don’t let this end. I don’t ever want this to end.
Long bouts of sex, I’ve also come to realize, can leave you starving.
