“I don’t know. Why don’t you check?” Her sultry voice is smooth like silk, shattering my composure as I pour the pancake batter onto the skillet.
I spin from the stove, finding her across from me, atop the island, leaning back on her elbows. She bats her eyes innocently, tongue darting out to lick her lush lips, and as my gaze rakes down her body, she opens her thighs, revealing her pretty, pink pussy. Wet and glistening.
“Oh, you are fucking trouble,” I growl.
She grins, spreading her legs wider. I drop the spatula on the counter, stalking to her, leaning close as I reach around and snatch my wallet from the far end of the counter, fishing out a condom.
“Do you need to be fucked this morning, love? Is that how you’d like to start the day?”
She only whimpers, nodding rapidly.
“You’ll need to use your words, Wills,” I say, though I’m already dropping my joggers and rolling the condom over my length.
“I want you to fuck me, Wes,” she rasps. “Right here. Now.”
I snatch her waist with one hand, sliding her to the edge of the counter as the other hand positions my cock at her entrance. She locks her legs around my hips, her arms around my neck, and I slide home.
We moan into each other’s mouths as I seat myself inside her, coating my length in her arousal before retreating and gliding back in effortlessly. “Look at you.” I bite her neck. “Already so fucking wet. So primed for me.”
Her head drops back, baring her throat as she bucks her hips, meeting me thrust for thrust. It’s frantic and fervent. We’re a mess of wild chaos, joining together with desperation.
“Slip a hand between those thighs and touch your pretty pussy for me, Trouble.”
She moans, falling back against the counter, back arching as her fingers drift toward her clit, brushing over the bud. I slide my hands down her thighs, gripping beneath her knees and hiking them higher so I can fuck her deeper. The sight of her wrapped so tightly around me, her beckoning heat welcoming me in with each pump, the cascade of cries falling from her beautiful mouth—it’s enough for me to lose my mind entirely.
The smell of burning batter permeates the air, but I’m too lost inside her to care.
“Look at the stars, Wes.”The trembled whisper leaves her mouth between each thrust.
I could give one fuck about the stars, honestly. I’m peering down at Willow’s flushed cheeks, golden hair a wild mess, her eyes bursting with passion.
She looks at the sky, but I find every constellation swimming in her gaze—brighter than the Milky Way itself. Her breasts spill from the top of her milkmaid dress with every rapid heave of her chest. The skirt hikes around her hips as I hold one of her legs in the air, fucking her from the side. Her head is nestled into the crook of my arm, her body flushed to mine.
“Don’t need the stars.” I pant. “Whole universe is staring directly at me right now.”
Willow whimpers, lashes fluttering as a moan floats from her throat.
I halt my movement, cock still buried deep inside her. “Eyes, baby. Eyes. Gotta look at me when you come.”
They pop open, reflective pools of starlight rippling in her irises. The power of their tides draws me in, and suddenly I’m swimming in the night sky.
I fuck her again, slow and deep, ensuring she feels every goddamn inch. Reminding her that her body was made to wrap around mine. The bed of my truck rocks with every snap of my hips, Willow’s cries ricocheting off the coastal cliffs surrounding the Pacific Shores back road she took me out to tonight.
“Say my name, love,” I command, exhaling over the shell of her ear as I bury my face in her neck. “Remind the stars who it is that’s making them collide for you.”
“Weston!” The sound that leaves her throat is fucking delicious, floating through the air just a fraction of a second before she shatters entirely.
I follow right behind her, sinking into the depths of ecstasy.
“God, I fucking missed you.”I kiss Willow hard the moment she opens the door to the guesthouse, walking us inside as I slam it behind me with a foot.
“I missed you,” she says on a breath as my mouth drags along her jaw and down to her collarbone. “It’s been the world’s longest day.”
Willow had an early shift this morning before driving out to Golden State for Penelope’s lecture. I traveled north for a good swell that came in unexpectedly this evening, and am only now arriving home. It’s nearly dark outside, the house warmly lit by two lamps in the corners and Willow’s candle warmer thatmakes the entire room smell like vanilla, though the scent of garlic and herbs lingers in the air.
“I made dinner,” Willow says into my mouth as I back her into the couch.
“Thank you, love,” I murmur. “Need you first, though.”
