Sweet Twins For My Brother's Best Friend: An Enemies To Lovers Romance (The Sweet Twins Collection)

Chapter Forty-Seven

Hannah

Weeks pass of waking up next to Chris and going on our runs with Lucy and taking showers together and then falling back asleep cuddled together. It feels like a dream, to know him so well and to be so thoroughly part of his life.

He teaches me how to make something new every day, and we’re even raising a sourdough starter together. It grows and bubbles on the windowsill of his apartment. Sometimes I look at it and think of how in another life, I’m not a city girl with a city job but someone with a farm, my kids running barefoot through the grass.

We’re preparing the nursery, and we’re almost done except for the clothes and the walls. We’re not sure about their sex or their names, so it’s hard to get the room completed. We’re finding out the babies’ genders this week.

We also need more diapers, we hear. Always more diapers, according to everyone.

I’ve reported Sarah to our local DA, and now we just wait to see what happens. So much of our life is a waiting game now. Wait for the gender announcement. Decide on names. Wait to hear from the DA. Wait for Tyler to come around.

Another thing I’m waiting for is the right time to tell Chris that I told the real estate agent in Maine that my client wants the seaside property.

He’s been hounding me about Chris signing the paperwork. I already sent him the deposit from my savings account, but I haven’t told Chris about what I did, so I walk on eggshells, unsure of when to bring it up.

I wake this morning to find Chris shirtless and sweaty making cupcakes. I laugh out loud at the sight and tell him, “You look like the cover of a book.” He tosses his curly hair out of his eyes, and I point, stabbing accusatorily, “See! That right there – that was the move of a book cover guy!”

“I just went on a run,” he defends himself, “And I would have worn an apron, but it was hard to get Lucy to come back, so I was tight on time to get them out of the oven. I thought you’d still be sleeping – what are you doing up?”

I check the clock on the oven, and the neon green numbers stare back at me: 9:30 AM. He’s right that I’ve been sleeping in longer on the weekends. I used to be an 8 AM girlie always. Up with the birds and asleep with the birds, I always said.

“I don’t know. Maybe the smell of cupcakes woke me up. What are those for?”

“Today is the day we find out the gender of the little plantains, so I thought it was only fitting to make some banana cupcakes.”

He points at my stomach, and I rub it instinctively. My instincts feel alien to me now sometimes, like something implanted in me.

I instinctively rub my belly and instinctively clean and instinctively cook and instinctively avoid caffeine. My body seems to know a lot more than I do.

“Is that fitting? They can’t eat the cupcakes.” I wrap my arms around him while he holds the hot pan above me, shuffling toward the counter to set it down. “Maybe you should have made some banana mash or something.”

“Well, that sounds delicious. Man, I really messed up making cupcakes.”

He sighs mockingly and sets them down, extricating himself from me to push a toothpick into them. He pulls the toothpick out clean and smiles to himself before throwing it away.

“Satisfied?” I ask, wrapping myself around him again and feeling the sticky skin of his back against my cheek. “Are they masterpieces?”

“They are. After I get the frosting on them, they’ll be worthy of you.” He unfurls my hands from his body and turns around to face me and cup my cheeks in his hands. His lips seek out mine, and we kiss gently, bathed in sun from the kitchen window and the smell of his pastries wafting all around us.

His lips massage mine as his hands explore the nape of my neck, his fingers slipping into my hair and gripping at it briefly. I gasp against his mouth, and he pushes me into the counter before lifting me up and setting me down onto it.

My hands slide back behind me as he pulls up my shirt to kiss my stomach. His mouth slides down me, his tongue exploring me, until he’s at my underwear, pulling it to the side and licking quickly at the exposed parts of me.

I consider briefly telling him what I did, that he has a spot in Maine waiting for him, but I don’t know how to tell him in a way that won’t sound like I’m getting rid of him or that I’ve somehow tricked him instead of seeking his agreement first.

I have a feeling no matter how I frame it, he’ll feel too indebted to me to leave, despite the fact that I want him to go and live out his dreams.

I hold his head against me, and his tongue dives into my tunnel. He spreads my legs and kneels, lapping at me, until I start to feel my orgasm approaching like a wave of fire.

Lately, every time Chris touches me, I’m already on the edge of cumming. This pregnancy seems to have me ready to go at all times. Let’s hear it for the hormones.

Chris stands up and pulls his penis out over the top of his boxers and shorts. Both of us are partially clothed, which is probably a good thing because I know that if I can see people through the window, they can probably see us.

He pulls me forward to the edge of the counter and lowers his body just enough to press himself into me. I feel the gentle pressure of his cock inching itself along inside me, the swollen shaft touching every bit of me from inside as my muscles contract against it.

I groan against him, my abs wobbling with the force it takes to hold myself up on the edge. Just as I register the strength needed, Chris envelops me with his muscled arms, wrapping them around my back as he pulls me off the counter and onto him. I’m held up only by his arms and his cock.

Feeling all of him entering me at once makes a lusty groan release from my diaphragm. I feel completely full, somehow all the way up my stomach to my ribs.

I clutch myself against him, but he holds me backwards, slanted at an angle, so that he can enter me at the exact angle of my tract.

His cock slides into me like butter, fully inside me and slipping around in my juices. He holds my ass with his big, paw-like hands, his strong fingers digging into my flesh as he bounces me on him.

With every bounce, I find myself rolling my eyes back and letting out a squeal of lusty delight. Already, I’m sweating, and he holds my hair away from my neck with his fist, kissing my sweaty lips.

His tongue dances inside my mouth, and I swirl my own tongue around his.

I cry out in pleasure when he pulls back from me and continues to bounce me against him.

My legs slip from around his waist, so he backs me up against the counter again and wraps them around him tighter. He forces my ankles to encircle each other, and I hold them in place when he lets go.

He reaches for his cupcakes and taps them, feeling their temperature, while still inside me. I grind desperately against him, holding his back and trying to wriggle him deeper into me.

He smiles patronizingly at me and kisses the tip of my nose while reaching behind me for a container of frosting and a knife.

He frosts a cupcake as I bounce against his pelvis, holding his forearms so that I can leverage myself enough to lower all the way down on his hard, veiny cock. My pussy’s so tight, the muscles contracting wildly, that I can feel every single vein that spans it.

Chris presents me with a cupcake, one hand under it and one hand behind it, showcasing it like a piece of art. He traces a bit of the frosting on top onto my lips, and I lick it off.

Hunched over me, he mutters into my ear, “Don’t move. Not even your tongue.” He dips the frosting back onto my lips and a little on my earlobe and my neck before kissing me deeply.

The sugar intertwines with our tongues, sweetening our kiss. He sucks on my earlobe until I tip my head back and moan, feeling my chest flush. His tongue finds the spots on my neck, and he licks with just the tip of it, a gentle tease of a lick.

My hands scratch at his back and his ass before finally, he feeds me the cupcake and lets me taste it myself before fucking me almost violently, driving himself deeply into me and pulling out only to thrust himself back in.

Our hips buck against each other, and the sensation of being filled while I eat the most decadent chocolate and banana cupcake I’ve ever had has me moaning aloud, unable and unwilling to hold it in.

I feel my own orgasm building just as I see his own face scrunch up as sweat rolls down his nose and drops onto my stomach.

“Hannah, you are so beautiful. And you feel so good. I could cum just looking at you.”

I snicker a little, taking another bite of the cupcake. I love this part of sex with Chris, when he forgets his dominant personality.

Usually, he likes to hold me down and fuck me the way he wants to feel me, but toward the end, when he’s nearly drained, he can’t help but praise me.

“So cum,” I tell him, trailing my fingers up and down his arms the way he likes. He shivers a little while inside me, and my walls jump at the feeling.

My eyes move without my permission, and I rest my face against his toned shoulders. “Cum inside me. I want to feel it filling me and spraying all over my walls.”

I feel him shake when he hears me talking like that, and his fingers grip me even tighter, pulling me against him.

A tiny grunt escapes him, finding its way in my ear, and he groans in a rattling voice, “Fuck.” One word, but that one word gets me every time. I cum with him, letting myself ride the wave as it washes over me. I let it go on for as long as I can as he empties himself into me, holding me tight to him and breathing rapidly into my ear.

We both relax into each other’s bodies, melting against each other. He lowers me onto the ground and kisses me deeply.

When the kiss ends, he lifts me up and hugs me with my feet off the ground.

I wrap my legs around his waist and think fondly that I’ve never dated anyone tall enough to pick me up. Our babies are going to be giants. I snuggle into Chris’ neck and decide in that exact moment that he is going to Maine.

I’m going to convince him, and I think I know just how to do it.