And soon, very soon, she was grabbing his other hand, guiding it under her belly and between her thighs.
“Now,” she gasped, pushing his fingers against her clit,now, nownownow, and she seized around him in waves, no thoughts and all the thoughts at once, until she could breathe again.
Dell gave a last thrust, a groan, dropping his face into her shoulder. His fingernails dug into her as he came, biting at her scalp, her thigh where he’d been holding one of her legs against him, and this last, surprising jolt of pain breaking through her post-orgasm haze almost made her come all over again.
But she only wrapped her arms around him instead, scratching her own nails underneath his T-shirt, up over his shoulder blades.
“Shit,” he said into her collarbone a minute later, voice threaded with tired laughter.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “Same.”
And then, like some kind of sneaky snake, his arm stretched to the right. When she realized what he was going for, she slapped his hand with a gasp.
“Dell McCleary. Get your dick out of me before you touch my ice cream.”
“It’s gonna be like that, is it?”
“You always knew it would be.”
And when he leaned back, sneaky hand grabbing the ice cream anyway, his grin crinkled the corner of his eyes.
Letting his other hand fall from the strands of her hair, he picked up the spoon. And slowly, fuckingsensually, he dipped it in and out of the carton before bringing it to Mae’s lips.
They’d fucked so quickly that the ice cream hadn’t even had time to fully turn to soup. It was only perfectly soft at the edges, and when Mae opened her mouth to accept the spoon, when the creamy sweetness melted on her tongue, her eyes never leaving Dell’s, she thought, again: FUCK.
And then, with a hiss and a half laugh, Dell withdrew the spoon, hitting her front teeth on the way out, dropping both spoon and ice cream onto the counter as he focused on withdrawing himself instead.
“You like—squeezedme,” he said, with a look that might have attempted to be accusatory if he wasn’t laughing. “I wasn’t ready.”
“Your fault for lingering and doingthat,” she countered, picking the ice cream back up herself. “Wait.” She straightened, leaned forward as he began to pull away.
“I have to—” He motioned toward the condom, but Mae grabbed his forearm.
“Wait.”
And she spoon fed him his own mouthful of Ben & Jerry’s.
“Okay,” she whispered, eyes on his lips as his tongue dipped out to grab a last drip. And helpless not to, she leaned forward to kiss him, lips sweet, beard rough, until he pulled away, eyes soft.
“I’m going to take care of this,” he said, “and then I’m going to go let the dogs out. You can follow me, if you want, if you want to sleep in my bed without any clothes this time. Or you can stay here, if that’s what you want.” He kissed her once more, a barely-there brush of lips, before he opened his eyes again to smile at her. “Hi,” he said.
And then he turned and left the kitchen.
* * *
“I only have one question,” Mae said to Dell’s back fifteen minutes later. He’d left the workshop door unlocked for her, but she’d still tried to make her entrance as conspicuous as possible, shuffling her feet along the hardwood floors so she wouldn’t spook him. “Does your bed also have a Pendleton blanket hiding somewhere?”
She couldn’t quite remember, from last time. A lot of that night still felt like a dream.
Dell turned from the kitchen counter, that small smile lifting the corner of his mouth.
“No. Felt Georgia deserved one, though.”
“Hm.” Mae crossed her arms over chest. “Guess I’m going to need a thorough tour of the whole house then, to make my final decisions.”
Dell’s smile grew before he attempted to flatten it, a superficially serious look creasing his brow.
“Fair.” He cleared his throat, motioning to his left. “Well, what drew me to the house, along with the location, was all the natural light, especially here in the kitchen?—”
