“I don’t know,” she struggled to say, her legs closing on me. “Twenty minutes.”
I wrapped my fingers around Mia’s ankles and lifted her feet to the edge of the counter, then pushed my hands down the insides of her thighs as I leaned between her spread legs. “Uh-uh, I got twenty minutes.” And I wanted to spend every last one of them watching her orgasm.
The track on the record player changed, and I kissed along her neck, my slow hands skimming beneath the thin romper at her sides, finding her naked breasts. Mia’s hands fell off my shoulder as she rolled her head to the side, and my thumbs grazed over her nipples. Her pulse beat like a drum against the tip of my tongue, provoking me and making me high.
“Baby,” I whispered, a sucker for her, and my hands drifted south to the space between her legs. With both of my hands having a firm grip over her arse, I massaged her pussy with my thumbs, pressing against her tight hole and her clit. Mia shuddered, and my nose brushed her ear before my lips caught hers possessively before we both took off.
“Oh. My. God,” she said slowly, breaking our kiss, and her head fell back. I couldn’t keep up, my eyes darting back and forth to her lovely face and what my hands were doing to her. “I’ll marry you again and again and again …”
A smile stretched across my lips, walking on air and a little off kilter with the fate of her undoing in the palm of my hands. She was beautiful, and I didn’t know this high could dance with her—a ballet. A heavenly bandwidth. With two fingers, I spread her pussy lips apart and instantly fell under a spell over her pink center and little round clit. My eyes soaked her up, every hum, every flutter of her lashes, and every fucking movement of her hips.
I looked up, my gaze slamming into hers.
And I licked my lips before my mouth wrapped her pussy.
Dragging my tongue up and down from her entrance to her clit, Mia’s legs shook. I knew the password to her moans, and my mouth worked her like a French kiss until she fisted my hair, and her sounds escaped. Our first time in the kitchen with her clenched core pounding against my tongue, she quickly came.
My girl moved like rain against me, my tongue against her hole, tasting her particular taste I craved as my free hand pulled my cock out and stroked it. I was already rock hard for her.
When I came up, Mia grabbed my face and ran her tongue up my chin and over my lips. She liked the way she tasted as much as I did.
The tip of my cock pressed against her entrance, her pussy still contracting from her climax, and I slowly inched inside her, gripping her thighs to keep them down and steady. My gaze drowned in the way we connected. It was a beautiful thing.
“Ollie,” she moaned, grabbing my face desperately. I kissed her palm, the blood rushing to one area as her walls squeezed my cock, stroking me as much as I was stroking her. “I can’t handle it.”
“Ride it out, love.” She was still rolling in the ecstasy, and I moved my thumb back over her clit to keep her there. “This is all for you.” I lifted my gaze to see the way she unraveled with every deep thrust, lovely lips parted, a blush crawling over her heated skin, eyes heavy on mine. Seeing the way she lost herself with me, I couldn’t help my orgasm building, and my palms slammed on the shelving behind her to hold myself back as my intense grinds turned into a pounding.
My grip turned frantic, and suddenly, the shelf ripped from the fucking wall.
Pausing mid-thrust, the entire shelving unit collapsed, dishes falling and crashing to our tiled floor. I snapped my head to Mia with wide eyes, and she looked back at me the same way. “Fuck it. Keep going,” she whimpered, and grabbed the back of my neck and pulled my mouth to hers.
Our kiss turned needy, my fingers dug into her thighs, and it only took a few more hard and deep hits until Mia came again, her frantic climax draining my own.
Her head dropped into the crook of my neck, both our breathing shallow and harsh.
“What just happened?” Mia asked into my neck.
I chuckled. “I think we’d died and gone to heaven, love.”
“I never want to leave,” she admitted, pulling away. Her eyes bounced back and forth between mine.
“Then, we won’t. We’ll live here forever, yeah? To hell with this mess.”
A lazy smile appeared over her flushed face. “Nice try, but you’re cleaning it up.”
Cora was a bright young girl, keeping us laughing through dinner. I was sure the pot roast Mia had made with cabbage and potatoes was terrific, but unfortunately ruined. In a matter of ten minutes, I’d driven to the closest restaurant to pick up food as Mia frantically cleaned. And when I’d returned, we transferred the food into another casserole dish that had survived our havoc. Mrs. Morrigan complimented on how delicious the food was, and I winked over at Mia. “It was my first time cooking. I’m surprised I didn’t burn the house down,” Mia said through a small laugh.
“Pretty close to it,” I mumbled, chuckling behind the rim of my wine glass.
“Well, after you remodel the kitchen, you’ll never want to leave it. It’s going to be beautiful,” Mrs. Morrigan pointed out before spooning another forkful of the roast.
We took the bottle of wine into the garden, and Mrs. Morrigan and I sat over our rocking chairs as Mia convinced Cora to help her pick a bundle for the kitchen. The weather had been kind to us over the last few days, only mid-day showers sprinkling under the sun. Mia carried a tin pail as Cora picked a cluster of pale pink roses, setting them inside.
“Mia’s so good with her,” Mrs. Morrigan mentioned with her gaze and smile pointed at the two girls amongst the flowers. Mrs. Morrigan’s hair was black like her daughter’s, but cut short and spiked up the back. A light wind picked up, and she pulled a thick knitted scarf over her bony shoulders as she shivered. “She’s got a good heart, Oliver. Don’t let that one go.”
My heart rattled inside my chest. Finally, someone could see Mia the way I saw her, and I glanced back over at Mia, whose hair was pulled high on her head, her neck and defined collarbone exposed against the sleeveless dress she’d changed into. “I’d never dream of it.”
My phone pinged, and I dipped my fingers into the pocket of my black jeans and opened up the message.
