One of these days, I wanted her sitting on my face when she came. Next time. I promised myself even as I nudged her legswider apart, hooking them over my elbows and watching my cock enter her. She reached over her head and grabbed the headboard, pushing against it to ride my cock. I’d never seen anything as beautiful as the two of us joined together. I withdrew to the head of my cock, snapped my hips, and buried myself balls deep.
“Fuuuck.” My spine tingled, my stomach caved in, and my balls drew up so tight they ached. I did it again. Then again. Bree cried out with every thrust, her body coiling tighter and tighter. The quiver in her thighs started up again, and I pumped harder. Faster.
“I can’t.” Bree sobbed out a string of nonsense, then, “So hard. You’re so fuckinghard, Declan. It feels so good. I want it to last forever, but I can’t.” She shattered with a scream loud enough to wake the dead.
The sudden tightening around my cock wrenched my release from me so hard I nearly blacked out. I spasmed, emptying myself inside her in a series of shorter thrusts that pushed Bree into another orgasm.
Sweat slicked my skin, and I buried my head in her chest, catching my breath and breathing in the sex-scented air. “You smell good.”
“Right back at you.” She kissed my shoulder and pinched my ass.
A hammering knock sounded from downstairs.
Bree flinched so hard her pussy clenched. “Oh my god. Someone’s here.” Her frantic gaze shot around the room. “I need to get dressed. I smell like sex. Oh god. So do you.”
I froze, then relaxed. “It’s fine. That must be the restoration company.” I kissed her and withdrew, rolling off the bed and backtracking to the living room for my pants. “I’ll let them in. It’s fine.”
The water restoration people were from a company out of Boston. They wouldn’t know me, or Bree. It wouldn’t matter to them if I showed up without a shirt. I zipped up at Bree’s door and hurried down the stairs, yanking open the door as another booming knock reverberated against the door.
Hand still raised, our local plumber gave me a look that raised both eyebrows. “Declan.”
“Hey, Dan. Sorry. I was trying to move some of the pricier items out of the cellar before they ruined.” Halfway true.
He nodded and walked past me. “No worries. I finished the other job early and thought I’d better come on over. Can’t have our favorite watering hole down for too long.” He made it halfway across the room without breaking stride. “Not sure how being shirtless helps you haul inventory.”
I mentally kicked myself for assuming anything and invented a cover story. “Shirt got wet, so I took it off. Don’t like the feel, you know?” My pants practically dripped water, but he didn’t point out the inconsistency in my sensory issue. Not like I could run around without pants on. Nowthatwould cause a stir.
Dan grunted and walked behind the bar, down the steps, and into the cellar. He paused before stepping into the water. “Quite a mess down here. I see why you wanted to clear out. Wouldn’t want that stuff getting wet.” He pointed at the line of boxes right at the water line. “The guys on their way to pump this out?”
“Yeah.” I stopped before admitting that I’d thought they were the ones at the door. That made me sound suspicious, and I couldn’t afford that.
Dan pulled on a pair of knee-high waders and sloshed through the water to the busted pipe.
“I turned the water off. You need help with anything else.”
The floor above us creaked, and I raised my head to track the movement.
Bree appeared at the corner of the bar. “Declan, I have your shirt.”
I tried to shake my head, to do something to stop her, but she kept coming, her smile warm and so fucking bright I faltered.
She held out my dry shirt. “Thanks for letting me borrow it when mine got wet.” She’d changed into dry clothes and braided her damp hair, and I still smelled myself on her.
I took the shirt and yanked it over my head. “No problem.”
Dan cleared his throat. “Afternoon, Bree.”
She startled, her gaze snapping from me to Dan and back again. “Dan. I didn’t realize you were here. I just wanted to give Declan his shirt. I was helping him bring things out of the cellar and mine got drenched. I put his in the dryer after he let me wear it.”
I cleared my throat, and her rambling stopped. Her explanation worked better than mine, but I’d already given Dan a different version of the story. I should have stuck closer to the truth. Bree made sense, where I’d sounded like a fool.
Dan looked back and forth between us. “Right. Okay. Not sure why you think I care about Declan’s shirt, but I’d like to get started on this.” He pointed at the exposed pipe.
My heart sank. He realized our stories didn’t line up. I blew our cover wide open by trying to keep Bree out of it when I should have tried harder to include her.
23
BREE
