Sawyer giggles.
I can’t help but smile back at her. I don’t know why she thinks it’s so funny when I swear. Mercer does it all the damn time and it doesn’t elicit this kind of reaction from her.
“Noah.” My name is a breathy, hopeful plea.
She snakes a hand down between our bodies and grips me through my jeans, mewling.
Heat floods me and a growl rumbles through my chest. I capture her shoulders and guide her back to look me in the eyes. “Not here, honey. I don’t have nearly enough space for what I want to do to you.”
Flames erupt in her irises. “And what, exactly, do you want to do to me?”
Grinning, I lean forward, capturing her earlobe between my teeth. “Something I haven’t had the privilege of experiencing yet.”
Her breath hitches, her heart racing. She pulls back and searches my face, her expression full of eagerness.
I draw the moment out, letting her curiosity build. Then I grip the back of her head, turn her face so I can look her in the eye, and say, “I want to lick your pretty little cunt until you’re screaming so loud Mercer and Tytus hear it from the house. I want to make a mess of you, honey. I wanna feast on your pussy, suck out that sweet nectar, and make your legs shake until you’re begging for Daddy’s cock.”
Chapter thirty-six
Sawyer
In a matter of minutes, Noah has worked the truck out of the snowbank and driven safely back to the property. To say we were both highly motivated to get back is an understatement.
We’re a mess of limbs and frantic energy as he guides me through the side door of the storefront.
He kicks the door closed behind him without breaking away from kissing me—hot.
Then he backs me up through the partition that separates the bakery counter from the rest of the store, bends low enough to catch me behind the knees, and lifts.Even hotter.
He carries me through the bakery, only setting me down when he gets to the large woodblock workstation.
Once he’s sure I’m steady on my feet, he drops to his knees, his piercing gray-blue eyes locked on mine, and hooks his fingers under the waistband of the sweatpants I borrowed from Mercer.
I grip his hair at the roots, holding his head in place, willing my knees not to give out.
He peels down my pants, then rises up onto his knees. “Fucking perfect,” he murmurs, nudging my thighs apart with his nose. He inhales deeply, then looks back up at me and licks my slit.
A shuddering breath escapes me.
Noah’s about to go down on me for the first time.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry or clench everything as tightly as I can in anticipation of what comes next.
Except—I’m fully unprepared for what happens next.
He surges to his feet, grips my bare thighs, and lifts me onto the workstation.
“Wait, no!” I shout, laughing through my objections as my bare ass hits the cool wood butcher block.
The shiver that works its way through me has very little to do with the chilled workstation underneath me and everything to do with the man who’s crowding my space with hungry urgency.
“Edna will kill us,” I warn him as he leans forward and sinks his teeth into a tender spot on my neck.
Despite my cautionary words, I grip the hair at his nape, urging him on.
He pulls back, his expression hard. “Who owns this orchard?” he growls.
My insides turn to liquid lust as I melt under his gaze.
