"You overgrown caveman," she mutters, but there's no heat in the insult. There rarely is anymore. She fucking loves when I put her where I want her and fuck her into oblivion. Just like I love it when she enhances my food and finds ninety different ways to drive me wild.
We make our own entertainment on the ranch. We have been every day for the last five years. And frankly, this is the dream. Letty. Two little boys with her eyes. A home full of love. Stolen moments in the kitchen, when I'm doing my damnedest to distract her because I can't go five minutes without her.
She's my world, the best part of every day. I'd kill for her. I'd die for her, too. I'm blessed enough not to have to do either. Instead, I just get to love her.
I lift her up enough to yank her leggings and panties down her legs.
She pulls my hair, but it's not a no. It's a reminder that, no matter how bossy I get, she'll always be the one in charge. My world bends to her wishes, the way it should.
"You're so needy, Sunshine," I groan against her lips, stroking her clit. "You need me to make you come."
"I need to cook," she moans, even as she spreads her legs wider.
"Later." I nip her throat. "You need this dick first."
She whimpers, arching for me. I thrust two fingers inside her, fucking her hard and fast with them, just the way she likes. Her little mewls drive me wild. Hell, everything about her drives me wild.
"Come, Letty baby," I croon. "Let me have it."
She splinters apart with a soft cry, her head thrown back. I work her through it, my eyes locked on her face. She's always so damn beautiful like this. Christ, I could die happy right here.
"Beautiful," I rasp, sinking my hands into her hair to kiss her breathless. "You're so fucking beautiful, Sunshine."
"Walker," she whimpers. "Please."
"You need me?"
"I always need you."
My heart clenches the same way it always does when she's this sweet. I reach for my zipper, inching it down.
"Daddy!"
"Fuck."
I spin around in time to see the boys tumbling into the kitchen, dirt streaked across their faces, wild grins in place.
"Walker!" Letty hisses, frantically trying to get her pants up before they see her, and our oldest starts asking ninety questions. He's in that phase right now. He wants to know everything about everything, and every answer you give only elicits another fifteen questions.
His mama will kill me if he starts asking about sex because I can't keep my hands to myself.
"Hey, buddy." I hurry forward, scooping him and his little brother into my arms, using my body as a shield. "Where'd you come from? I thought Uncle Bishop was watching you."
"We runned away," Wyatt says, grinning at me.
"I see that." I ruffle his hair, then kiss his little brother on the cheek. "Any particular reason why?"
"He sayed we need baffs." Wyatt scowls. "We didn't want no baffs."
Of course they didn't. They're three and four. They'd rather set the ranch on fire than wash off their hard-earned dirt every day.
"Mama!" Wesley cries when he sees her. "Mama!"
"Hey, sweet boy."
I peek behind me, relieved to find her dressed, her cheeks blazing red.
She shoots me a death glare as she hops off the island and hurries toward us, kissing each of the boys on the cheek. "What's the rule about the kitchen, sweet babies?"
