His grin is slow and lavish as he reaches for the bottom hem of my dress. He slips his hand underneath, sliding up past my thigh-highs to twist his fingers in the lace at my hip. “We both know where the maroon is, sweetheart.”
My breath catches, cheeks flushing to match the color of my lingerie.
A smooth hum drifts from his chest, and he tugs the band higher up my hip. The shift pulls the lace tighter against me, pressing into my clit in a way that makes my legs falter. Heat pulses in my core, pounds through my blood. Ilean back against the kitchen island to steady myself.
“You sure we don’t have a few extra minutes?” he asks, shoving his thigh between mine, only increasing the pressure against my core. “Because I’d sure love to spread you out on the counter.”He lowers his mouth to my ear and murmurs, “Please. I want to sit through that wedding with the taste of you on my tongue.”
“Um...” My eyelids get heavy. Ican’t stop myself from grinding against his thigh. “Maybe a few—”
I don’t even get the words out before his hands are around my waist, hoisting me onto the counter. My arousal flashes, hot and bright. He pushes me gently back to my elbows and flips my dress up to my hips, feasting with his eyes first.
“Hm.” There’s laughter in his tone as he slips his thumb beneath the lace to circle my swollen clit. “This where you want me, sweetheart?”
Too distracted by his thumb, all I can do is nod and let out a breathy moan.
His deep, knowing chuckle vibrates through me. Hands on my thighs, he splays me wide open. Iwhimper at the delicious stretch of my muscles. I’m trying my best to relax, but the anticipation is killing me.
He knows it, too, because he takes way too long teasing—rolling his fingers over my clit, breathing me in and blowing cool air across my heated skin. Slowly, he builds me up, plays with me, like we don’t have somewhere to be.
I’m whining and moaning and begging by the time he shoves the lace aside and slides his tongue where I need it.
A moan rattles out of him. “Fuck, I’m so addicted to this,” he murmurs, lapping at my arousal.
With a hand on my hip, he holds me in place and slips two fingers inside, working them in tandem with his mouth. He’s eager. Thorough. Groaning and sucking like he can’t get enough. Ifall back, clawing at the counter, searching for something to hold on to. Isettle for a handful of his flannel and another of his hair, and a long, drawn-out “Fuck” rumbles over my clit.
The pressure building in my spine feels like it might split me apart. “Please,” I beg. “Yes. Right—”
I can’t even finish my words before I’m convulsing beneath him. With a strangled moan I tumble into ecstasy, pulsing around his fingers. He keeps working me, wrenching every bit of pleasure from my body until I melt against the cool counter.
My legs are still shaking when he helps me sit up. Ireach for his belt buckle, but he stops me with a hand over mine.
“No, sweetheart. This was just a taste. Icouldn’t make it through the wedding without it.” His eyes are flaming as he licks his lips. “The rest comes later. Iwant you desperate and thinking about it—fantasizing about it—all evening.”
I can’t even form a response before he slips the wet lace back into place, taunts me with one more lazy roll of his thumb, and pulls me down from the counter. “Come on, you tease. We’re going to be late,” he murmurs.
Theo
Three more months later
“Best behavior, okay?” I scoop up the tiny puppy from the passenger seat and hold her in front of my face. She plants a paw on my cheek, her glassy amber eyes staring back at me.
When Garrett and I bought the practice together a few months ago, we started regular visits to the shelter for spays and neuters. This afternoon, a park ranger brought this little gal in after finding her in the nearby national park. She’s about four months old—probably a beagle mix—with long, floppy earsand white and tan fur. Sweet, cuddly, and kissable. I fell head-over-heels. Had to adopt her on the spot.
“She’s going to love you,” I assure her, tucking her under my chin and zipping up my jacket until only her little black nose is sticking out of the opening.
I wince against the cold wind as I walk to the house. But there’s a plume of smoke billowing out of the chimney, welcoming me to the warmth of the A-frame.
Layla’s the first to greet me after I kick off my boots. She bounds over, immediately smelling our new family member and jumping up to investigate, tail wagging excitedly. Knocks is probably off doing cat things—jumping to the top of the fridge or tumbling breakable shit to the ground—and couldn’t care less about my arrival.
But the family member I don’t see is... “Fabes?” I kick off my shoes by the door and readjust my coat companion.
“Uh... in here,” she calls, sounding very unsure about her answer.
“Where’s here, exactly?” There’s a small bang from the downstairs bathroom, so I start that way.
As I reach the closed door, Fable shouts, “Don’t come in!” Another bang and a scuffle, then a, “No, no, no. Please stay still.”
Layla shoves her nose to the bottom of the door and sniffs hard. Knocks must’ve gotten into something. Iduck my chin and press a kiss to the little black puppy nose. “Need help?” I ask Fable.
