He hums, pushing off the fridge, making his way over to me.
I hold up a hand in astopmotion. “No, absolutely not. My ass is sore, but I know I can take you again. If you get any closer, I will. We have a party to get ready for.”
With a dirty smirk on his face, he steps back, hands held high in surrender. “Okay. I’ll pick you out something to wear.”
“Black pants with?—”
“That lavender shirt you love?” he finishes and I smile at him. “I got it, baby.” He steps closer and kisses me once on the lips. “I’ll get dressed too. When you’re done here, your clothes will be ready.”
I watch as he saunters out of the kitchen, his shoulders rolling and that firm ass flexing in his underwear. I’m the luckiest man alive.
Smiling, I grab a new sponge and clean up the cum and oil from the counter and the floor. Did I really just have the most amazing sex of my life pressed against a counter with the scent of bacon in my nose?
Yes, yes I fucking did.
Well, it was mostly Cade’s scent, wrapped around me like a warm embrace, but the bacon got through if I leaned too close to it.
I fucking blurted out I loved him after only a week and I’m not sorry. Cade and I were made for each other, even though he’s technically a man in his sixties. Maybe that’s the reason shit didn’t work out with me and Walt—I was meant to build myself up after my breakup so I could be the man that Cade needed.
With him still learning the ways of the world, he needs someone patient, someone that will allow him to just be so he can figure out who he is in this century.
With the kitchen clean and sparkling—with no traces of cum to be seen—I start to set up the table for the party.
First, I grab the crockpot of meatballs, then the charcuterie board from the fridge and put them on the table. I buzz about, grabbing all the food and items I need for our guest.
Ourguests. I love the sound of that so much. When I moved into this apartment, I had no intention of sharing the space with anyone, especially since I was so excited to live alone for the first time in my life, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t love that Cade was here now. In this short time, he’s become someone Ican’t live without, someone that I depend on for my peace of mind. It sounds co-dependent as fuck, but whatever. I need him beside me to make my day complete.
His arms go around me, pulling me back to him. “Get dressed. I’ll finish up here.”
Twisting in his arms, I hug him close. “Thank you, baby.”
I skip to my room, floating on cloud nine as my ass gives a small twinge of satisfaction.
“Great turn out, huh?”Sawyer says when he comes over to me, holding a small plastic champagne glass with sparkling cider. Most of the guests are drinking beer or actual champagne, but Sawyer has to drive home, and Katrina won’t allow him behind the wheel if he’s touched the stuff.
I look around at everyone in attendance, friends from high school, culinary arts school, even some people that I met through Walt.
Most of them heard that he cheated on me and chose me in the breakup. It’s sweet, really.
“Yeah, it is.”
“They really like Cade.” Sawyer’s eyes are sparkling as he looks at me over the rim of his glass.
He’s right about that. Right now, there are a few people circled around him, listening to him talk about the video game idea he told me about this morning. Everyone is hanging on to his every word, either because what he’s saying is interesting or because they find him as attractive as I do.
If I were the jealous type, it would probably eat me up that people keep drawing him away from me, but I’ve never been that way. Besides, I can feel his love for me through the bond we share. I have nothing to worry about.
Grinning, I nod, rubbing a thumb over my claiming mark. It twinges under my touch, then warmth spreads across my skin. I never want the feeling to go away.
Sawyer grabs my chin and tips my head to the side. “Hickeys? What are you, twelve?”
I bat his hand away, my face hot as fire. “It’s not…” I look around to make sure we’re alone. “It’s not a hickey. It’s…it’s a claiming mark.”
Sawyer glances around as well, then steps closer. “Is that because he’s a couch?”
“Recliner,” I emphasize. “And yes. Because we’re mates. It has something to do with him being a shifter, but I don’t know the ins and outs of it.”
Like I thought they would, Sawyer’s eyes light up as he looks over at my man. My recliner. Whatever.
