Page 22 of Pumpkin to Talk About

I open her nightstand drawer and pull out a condom from the stash we used on Friday night. “This okay?” I ask.

She nods, her eyes hooded as she watches me roll it on. I grab her by the ankles and pull her so her ass is just touching the edge of the bed where I’m standing. With her ankles on either side of my ears, I line myself up with her entrance and slide inside.

Belle’s arms reach above her head to grab onto the comforter there. I thrust again, watching her perfect tits bounce with the movement. A low, guttural moan escapes me when I’m fully seated, just as she sighs, her eyes rolling back contentedly.

“You’re so tight,” I say. “God, it feels good.”

She flutters her eyelids open, those gorgeous eyes sparkling with mischief. She lifts one of her legs from my shoulder and crosses it over her other ankle. It has the effect of squeezing me even more, and I almost lose it right there.

“Dammit, Belle,” I groan as my thrusts become more erratic. “That’s amazing.”

Her fists ball up tighter into the comforter as she squeezes her eyes shut again. “It’s incredible for me too,” she breathes.

“Open your eyes,” I plead. She obliges, her eyelids flying open so she can watch me. I lean forward so my hands are resting on the edge of the bed on either side of her hips, forcing her legs to bend closer to her. She bites her bottom lip and moans, but never takes her eyes off of me.

“That’s it,” I encourage her. “I want to see those pretty eyes when you come for me again.” I brace myself and lift a hand to cup her breast. I tease at her nipple, pinching and rolling the dark bud between my fingertips.

“Yes,” she pants. “Harder. I can take it.”

“I know you can, baby,” I croon as I squeeze her nipple even harder. “You like that?”

She cries out her pleasure as she squirms underneath me. “Oh god. I’m close.”

“I want it,” I tell her. “I want to feel you come.” I thrust hard a few times, and she comes undone around me. Her tight pussy hugs my dick, and it sends me over the edge with her.

We never break eye contact. Even as we’re sweaty and panting and her legs are still resting on my shoulder, it’s like we’re locked together. When I eventually have to step away to dispose of the condom, it almost hurts to have to look away from her.

And that’s about when I realize that I want to look at Bluebell Allen every day for the rest of my life.

If only I knew how that could be possible.

Chapter 14

Belle

“Come on,” I taunt into the phone as I look at my clothes laid out on the bed in front of me. “It’s your last night in town, and it’s the biggest event of the year in Ironwood Flats. I want to go, and I also want to spend time with you. Please come with?”

I realize I’m twirling my hair around my finger. Grimacing in disgust, I drop it. When did I become the type of woman who twirls her hair when she’s talking to a guy?

“Why don’t you go for a while, and then call me when you’re back. I’ll come over after,” Mike says. I try to ignore the soft sound of clothes landing in his suitcase in the background.

We’ve spent almost every available minute together since he came over a few days ago. We even took Nicholas and Claire to see a movie so Annie could see her first few nail clients in peace. It was sweet, but I knew I couldn’t let myself get used to it. Maybe we’ll still talk for a while after he leaves, but I can’t see any real commitment blossoming between us, as much as it disappoints me.

“But you’ll be missing time with your niece and nephew if you do that. This way, you can spend time with them and me.” I’m trying not to sound desperate, but I fear I’m toeing the line.

I can tell by his silence that he’s considering this. I’ve found over the past few weeks that there’s no one Mike loves more in this world than his sisters’ kids, and if I have to use them to get him to come with me to the Halloween fest downtown, I will. Shamelessly.

My hall clock chimes four o’clock. The festival kicks off at five. “Come on, Indy. We’re burning daylight here.”

“God, you are so Texan,” he says, but it’s affectionate. Almost wistful, like he wishes he still were, too.

“Yup,” I say simply. “Come on. I’ll point out where all the scary things are so you’ll be prepared.”

“You don’t think anything is scary,” he counters.

“Because it’s not.”

“So, what are you going to point out?”