Grasping my neck, he drags me in for a kiss. The cake tastes even sweeter this way, mixed with him. Forget smushing cake in his face, I just want to share it with him via mouth-to-mouth. Cake CPR. That smushing tradition always seems cruel, considering how long it must take the bride—and groom, or grooms, or brides, or whatever—to get ready. Hours of work destroyed at the same time that perfectly good cake is wasted. No, thanks.
Grady slowly kisses down my neck, nipping at my jaw and then further. I gasp and throw my head back, pleasure racing through me like electricity. Yeah, this is—I like this taste-testing venture. So glad we’re doing this at home. Scandalising the bakery staff seems like a bad idea for future purchases. Ten out of ten, would do it this way again. Highly recommend for other couples. I bet Will would like to know about it; I’ll have to tell him when I next see him.
Grady grasps my hips and lifts me up onto the table, spreading me out over the surface.
“I think we’ve been here before,” I say cheekily. The last time we did this he used the M&Ms in my pocket in the best creative way, and I still have jerk off sessions about it.
“Do you have more M&M’S in your pocket?” Grady asks, remembering the same thing as me. His lips slide up into a sensual smirk that makes me want to take a bite out of him. He can be my personal cake. That sounds like a fantastic idea.
“Probably? Maybe.” I hope so.
“I have a better idea. Take your shirt off.”
It’s gone in a second, ripped over my head hastily and thrown—somewhere. I don’t care where. It could get eaten by the dust monsters, never to be found again, and I wouldn’t care. They can have it. I have more.
I lift myself at the same time that Grady lowers, and our lips meet in the middle. A whine erupts from the back of my throat, and I open my mouth, pressing harder and urging more from him. A hand rustles in my pocket, and Grady smiles against my lips when he finds what he’s looking for. Past me was so smart. Go past me.
Fingers hook in my pants and underwear, and Grady drags them down and off, leaving me naked and open for him. Just the way I like it. Clothes are so restrictive and boring.
He tears the M&Ms packet open and pops one in his mouth, the distinct crunch causing a ripple to go through me. He stretches over me and kisses me deeply, chocolate flooding my taste buds. Clinging to his shirt, I arch into him, already panting despite the fact he’s barely touched me.
Without stopping the kiss, he pushes another M&M between us, the crisp outer shell melting from our combined heat, chocolate spreading. There’s really no other way to eat these.When Grady lets go, I gasp, “They should put that on the packet.”
“What?” he asks absently, emptying the rest of them next to my head. One rolls, and he grabs it, sliding it between my lips.
“Best eating instructions: mouth-to-mouth. With a Grady of choice. Not mine, though.”
Grady glances at me with a half-curled smile. “How many Gradys do you think are out there?”
“Not nearly enough. I guess it could say ‘Grady of choice, or equivalent,’” I concede. Some people’s Grady would have a different name, I suppose. Their loss.
Grady replies with, “A good compromise,” but I know he’s not really listening. Instead, he’s looking over the cake pieces intently.
Grabbing one, he slides a finger through the frosting atop the yellow cake.
Then he rubs it across my stomach. It’s cold, and I laugh, body vibrating. “It tickles.”
He leans in slowly and cleans up the mess with his tongue, lapping up every bit of frosting. By the time he’s done, I’m on fire, burning up from the inside. Hands clenching around the side of the table, knuckles going white. My dick aching and hard. Grady lifts a knee and spreads me wider, and my breath hitches in anticipation.
Grady tears off a piece of the cake with his fingers and takes a small bite. He blinks. “This is lemon.”
“What?” Craning my neck, I look at the card sitting crooked beside it. “Oh. I must have mixed them up.” My fifty-fifty chance did not go in my favour. Good thing it’s not a card game, and we’re not at a casino.
Grady chuckles and then feeds the rest of the cake in his hand to me, fingers slipping into my mouth. I barely taste the flavour, all my focus completely on him, his gorgeous dark-olive eyes,and a face I’ll never tire of looking at. We could pick any flavour for the wedding cake at this point, and I’d be happy with it. It’s all just icing. The stuff on top of the cake and the rest of it. All I care about is being able to call him my husband at the end of the day. That’s all that matters.
He gathers more icing—this time the cream cheese frosting from the red velvet slice—and trails it down my chest, over my hip bone, and then wipes the remainder from his thumb onto my dick. Fuck,yes.By the time he gets down there, my skin is tingling from his tongue, my entire body is rigid with anticipation, and my dick is so ready for him.
He mouths at my head first, flicking his tongue and avoiding where he’s made me dirty. Taking his time. If his goal is to drive me insane, mission accomplished, I’m already there. I was there before he touched me. All he has to do is look at me, and I’m wild for him.
His tongue slides up my shaft, lapping at the frosting and nipping gently. Then he swallows me whole, and I cry out, my upper body curling off the table as I reach for him, cradling his head and encouraging him to never stop. He’s hot and wet around me, perfect suction and speed. He’s not trying to make me come, dragging it out with skill.
He squeezes my ass and then pulls my cheeks open, the tip of his thumb grazing my hole. My muscles clench needily. Except that when I rotate my hips to get him to push, he pulls away and grins down at me.
“That’s grounds for divorce,” I tell him with a glare. He can’t touch me there and not follow through. It’s too cruel.
“We’re not married yet.”
“We need to go down to the courthouse and get married so we can get divorced for that.”
