Bending for a kiss, I cradle Grady’s neck and rock myself on him until he’s fully inside, feeling like he’s pressing on every inch of me. I don’t think anyone has ever had a taste testing as good as this. It’s not great for decision making, but the rest is perfect.
“We haven’t finished the cakes,” Grady reminds me. More of those mind-reading skills at play. “Why don’t you pick one?”
“We didn’t actually eat the chocolate,” I say with a wicked grin. He spent a lot of time on the frosting but not the cake itself. It looks good, that dark colouring that says it’s a mud-type chocolate. Delicious.
Reaching over isn’t too hard since we didn’t move far from where everything is spread on the table. I gather some of the dense chocolate with my fingers and carefully feed it to him. He flicks his tongue over the tips and then takes hold of my hips, lifting me a fraction before slamming me down. My mouth opens in a silent gasp, overwhelmed by the intense lance of lust going up and down my spine.
Grady feeds me some of the cake in return. I rotate my hips, dropping my head back, the taste of decadent chocolate mingling with the amazing feeling in my ass. Not a combination I’ve thought about before. That’s an oversight since it’s the best thing ever.
We continue the same thing with the next three cake pieces, sampling them as Grady slowly thrusts into me. Nothing has topped the lemon or chocolate yet—or the way Grady is fucking me—but they’re nice. Though I’ve barely tasted the last one. I think it might have been caramel. Or coconut. They aren’t remotely the same thing, and I couldn’t say which one I justtasted. I’ve reached my limit, and all I can focus on is Grady’s dick and the need to come on it.
I’m tingling all over; the temperature of my body is probably dangerous, and I need Grady so much that I know I’ll die if he doesn’t get us both off. Soon.
Picking up the pace, I arch my back to get him even deeper. “We should do this every meal,” I gasp, clutching at his shoulders to use them as leverage.
“What if we have guests?” Grady asks. He kisses my collarbone and then down, biting and licking my skin as he goes.
My toes curl, and I cradle his head while I fuck myself on his magnificent dick. I can never get enough of it. I want to live with it inside me every second of the day. “They can go home.” Sex takes precedence over guests. They can get a burger on the way home or something. They won’t die if they have to wait to eat, but I might if I have to wait to have Grady inside me.
I pull him up for a kiss, wanting more of his tongue as my orgasm creeps up on me, somehow both slowly and coming out of nowhere. Grady wraps a hand around my cock, which only skyrockets it closer.
“Don’t stop—just like that—ohmyfuckinggod, your dick needs to come with a warning label.” One that includes that it’s all mine. No one else can have it. “I’d fight them for it,” I gasp, planting my feet to keep myself steady while Grady fucks up into me hard, hitting the perfect spot on every bone-rattling thrust. The strength of him makes me giddy. Euphoric. He’s so big I feel small, and I like it way more than I thought I could. Being the small spoon is thebest.
“The warning label?”
What? I can’t remember the conversation. I’m too far gone to answer even if I did. I don’t care about anything except kissing him and—my orgasm rips through me, and I cling tighter to him, all my muscles locking up.Yesyesyes.There’s nothing like thisfeeling. The completion of our… completeness. He completes me. That’s from a movie. I can’t remember which one. They were correct, though. And when Grady groans, kissing me harder and gripping my hips tight enough there will probably be bruises, it’s even better. He’s coming too, and for that split moment afterward, it’s like it’s just us in the world, and nothing else could ever matter more than right now, with just the two of us.
Collapsing against him, my cheek and ear against his chest, the sound of his rapidly beating heart is soothing. Enough to convince me that a small nap just like this is the perfect idea.
Chapter seventeen
Grady
Thishastobelove. It’s the only way I would allow this kind of behaviour in my house. In my vicinity. In mylife.
Lake pauses, fork in his mouth. He tilts his head and smiles. Sliding it out, he chews and swallows before saying, “You want some?”
The sneer is automatic, and it only makes Lake laugh and cut more of the pancake off with his fork and eat it with exaggerated movements.
Love is the only explanation. I even cooked the fucking abominations. The world has ended. I might as well turn in my badge and go live like a hermit in the woods. Even just those thoughts tell me I’ve been living with Lake for too long.
Lake smiles wider; it’s taking up his whole face, and he cocks his hips, leaning against the counter he’s standing beside. “Are you sure? They’re really good.”
“I’m sure they’re not.”
“For someone who has a thing against them, you’ve made them perfectly.” He picks one up and squishes it between his fingers. “See? Perfectly fluffy.”
“Fluffy isn’t a compliment.” If I wanted to eat tasteless air, I could just open my mouth, no need to waste perfectly good ingredients.
“I think you’re fluffy.”
I frown. “What the hell does that mean?”
Lake comes closer—bringing his plate of horrors with him—and tugs on the hem of my shirt. “You’re a big guy.”
“I have muscles. That’s not fluffy.”
“It’s my fluffy.”
