She goes absolutely still, gazing at me. Smiling, I press my mouth on her, through the thin strip of her thong. The delicious scent brings me an addictive high, and I tongue her wetness, groaning at the heady flavor I can’t get enough of.
I spread her legs wider and push two fingers inside, knowing it drives her wild when I rub her G-spot while sucking on her clit. Her back arches, and her knuckles whiten, gripping the counter. Another tremor snakes through her, harder and faster. I pull her sweet flesh into my mouth, adding another finger and fucking her, making sure to bump the little button inside that drives her crazy.
She screams as she comes, her thighs tensing and tightening around my head. I don’t give her time to come down from the high. I’m just getting started.
I devour her, lapping her up like a man who hasn’t had a drop of water in days. She’s a dripping mess, but I love how turned on she is—that I’m doing this to her. Her fingers digging into my hair, she rocks against my face, moving her pelvis to the rhythm set by my furiously thrusting fingers.
The next two climaxes hit her back-to-back like wrecking balls. She convulses over my face, and I grip her ass hard. “Oh God,” she moans, her entire body quivering.
“Yes, my light.” I get back to my feet, wipe my jaw with a careless swipe of my palm, and pull her into my arms and kiss her. She’s unsteady on her feet, orgasm-drunk, and drives her tongue into my mouth.
My steel-hard dick presses against her; she undoes my belt and pushes the shorts down. Her eyes shift to the wall behind me. “Ten minutes left.”
“Then we better make it fast. And hot.” She starts to lead my cock toward her pussy, but I pull back. “No condom.”
She bites her lip, then a devilish gleam sparks in her eyes. Her hand wraps around my shaft, forming a tight sheath. My erection pulses against her bare skin.God, she feels so damn goodis the only thought I can muster over the roaring of overheated blood in my ears.
She pumps me, her mouth on mine. I drive into it, feel the precum dripping over her strong fingers enveloping me. Soon a climax begins to swirl beneath my skin, my balls growing tight.
She nips my earlobe. “Will you come for me, Noah?” And then her other hand is on me, the tip of one finger touching the tip of my shaft, and I can barely say “yes” before my vision goes white, and I spurt in her hand, my lungs struggling to drag in air. I come so hard, the cum hits her chin, splatters over our clothes.
The sight is so fucking hot, my cock spews again, although not so much that anything hits her face again.
A moment or two pass before I can speak. “Fuck,” I groan. “Jesus, I love you.”
“Not Jesus. Bobbi,” she corrects me, then laughs just as the oven timers start dinging.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Bobbi
The Last Supper-esque portion of Noah’s vision painting didn’t come close to capturing the raucousness of his brothers and their wives and children. Although his place in Malibu is huge, with so many large men around it starts to feel kind of cozy.
A cute curvy brunette introduces herself as Molly and beams at me. “I knew it!” She turns to Noah, looking at him like he’s her star pupil. “Told you being yourself works!”
I look at her, wondering how much advice she gave Noah.
“So you’re the master baker,” Amy says. She’s a friendly blonde and a regular. And Emmett’s wife.
“And now,” Grant says, “Noah doesn’t have to be the masturbator.” Two of the other brothers are walking by; the high-fives occur almost eight feet in the air.
“I feel like I should buy even more Danishes from you now,” Aspen says. I recognize the redhead—she used to come to the bakery all the time to grab goodies for her office.
“Thanks,” I say with a smile.
“So, has Noah finally earned a croissant?” This one looks suave, all polished charm and pleasantry, but I can picture him breaking someone’s legs without breaking that smile.What was his name…? Huxley.Mr. Harvard Law who doesn’t want to be a lawyer.
“I haven’t given him a croissant since we got together.” He hasn’t asked, and I haven’t offered. Giving him a croissant might come across as meaning everything’s all good. Maybe it’s because he loves my croissants—or maybe it’s because that’s what he filched that night he promised to come to my bakery opening. But I’m not sure if it’s wise to declare everything’s perfect when it’s been only one week into our three-month trial.
“Sounds like you’re giving him enough.” Again the smile, but this time it comes with a wink that makes it okay.
Sierra slaps him on the arm. “Don’t be crude. By the way, I love your desserts.” She’s the CEO of Silicone Dreams, which makes some of my favorite vibrators.
A Nordic blonde even taller than I am is here, making me feel less conscious about my height, although among these men I feel almost slight and girlish. She’s Lucienne Peery, the heiress to Peery Diamonds. She seems a bit tired and doesn’t have much of an appetite. She’s barely touched the massive spread that Noah had catered. It could come across as just a tad stuck up, but she genuinely seems apologetic she isn’t more fun to be around.
Her husband Sebastian sits next to her and takes care of her, pouring her water, having her try different fruits and bread. She has a couple of bites of crusty whole-grain bread, then shakes her head.
My phone buzzes. I glance at the screen.
