27. Bridgette
Bridgette
D utton pulls into an empty parking spot at the Shop ‘n Go and reaches into my backseat for the reusable grocery bags he tossed there earlier. We got back from Jocelyn’s wedding a few days ago, and while I don’t expect my brother and my boyfriend to get matching tattoos anytime soon, things have definitely thawed out over the past few days.
I’m not trying to jinx anything, but it’s entirely possible that we’re past all the drama and we can just enjoy being a couple.
Dutton has his hand on the door handle, but I’m not ready to get out of the car just yet—not until I’ve unearthed my earbuds from the bottom of my bag.
They are a grocery-shopping necessity, and when I come up empty, I panic for a second until I look inside the zipper compartment and see them sitting there next to my favorite lip balm and a pen that’s probably run out of ink.
Victory.
“You need a soundtrack to buy food?” Dutton asks, pointing at my earbuds.
Oh, this handsome, clueless man. “Uh, yeah. I can’t even imagine going into a store without something to distract me.”
“From grocery shopping?” he asks as we hop out of the car and stride through the parking lot.
“Absolutely. Have you ever been to a grocery store? They’re loud and overwhelming.
There are always a million people who need to be in the exact same spot you are.
And I swear they change the layout every few weeks.
It’s the worst chore ever, but it’s a necessary evil, so the only way I get through it is with the help of these guys,” I say, holding up the case.
He takes one of the earbuds, even though I wasn’t offering them to him, and slips it in his ear. “Great. What are we listening to? More of that grunge stuff? Don’t tell anyone, but I actually kinda like it.”
“Well, since we’re here together, I probably don’t need the audio assist. But if I get a little frazzled by the time we reach the cleaning supplies, maybe I’ll put on a playlist,” I tell him, holding my hand out so he can drop the earbud into it.
Of course, he doesn’t. “Hell no, I want the full Bridgette Mikalski experience, and that means we listen while we shop.”
I reach for a cart and shake my head. “You had the full Bridgette Mikalski experience in the shower this morning. We don’t need to listen to music.
Our grocery list isn’t even that long.” Dutton’s cooking for the hockey house tonight, and I needed to stock up on a few things, so we decided to be all domestic and tackle grocery shopping as a couple.
“You can share your body with me, but not your music?” he asks, looking wounded. “That hurts, Dove.”
I roll my eyes and tap my phone screen to bring up the list we made, but I underestimate the quickness of my boyfriend’s reflexes.
Before I even realize what’s happening, he’s reaching in front of me and tapping the Play button on my phone screen.
Fine by me, I can jam out with the best of them.
But when I slip the other earbud into my left ear and see the look on Dutton’s face, I realize we’re not listening to music.
“Oh, shit. I was listening to my audiobook and I—,” my words trail off just as the narrator’s voice fills our ears.
“Are you going to be a good girl, Annabeth, and wrap your slutty lips around my aching cock? Or do you want to get punished?”
“That’s a tough question, Jack. Your dick tastes so good, but I also love the sting of your palm against the bare skin of my ass. Such a hard decision.”
“You better make it quick, before Elliot realizes we left the party and comes looking for us.”
Dutton’s eyes nearly bug out of his head. I try to hit the pause button, but he shoos my hand away.
“Oops! Sorry about that. We can switch to a playlist,” I tell him. My face probably matches my hair right now, that’s how hard I’m blushing.
“You should be sorry,” he grumbles, covering my phone with his hand. “Because now we’re on chapter sixteen and I need to catch up. I’m so lost. Can lips be slutty? And who the hell is Elliot?”
I crack a smile. “He’s Jack’s son. And Annabeth’s ex-boyfriend. Let’s just listen to some music.”
“Oh, hell no,” he says, his grin wolfish. “If Annabeth’s going down on her ex’s dad, why the hell would I want to listen to music? Chapter sixteen, here we fucking go.”
And that’s how I find myself wandering around a grocery store with my sexy boyfriend while we listen to the drama—and the sex life—of Judge Jack Graves and Annabeth Dever, his son’s ex-girlfriend.
Dutton’s strolling along casually, tipping items into the cart like he’s listening to a sports podcast instead of a steamy sex scene.
I’m searching for bananas that are the lightest shade of green possible when a message pops up on my phone.
Dutton : You’re in trouble, Dove.
Bridgette : Why’s that?
Dutton : First off, you’ve been holding out on me. We should have formed our own little book club weeks ago.
Bridgette : My apologies.
Dutton : You’re forgiven on that count. But I might just have to take a page out of Jack Graves’s playbook and punish you for something else.
Bridgett e: And what’s that?
Dutton : There’s a strip of bare skin that peeks out of the gap between the top of your leggings and the bottom of your shirt and it’s got me hard as fuck. I want to taste it. I want to run my hands over it. I want to fucking bite it.
Dutton : And I can’t because we’re in the middle of a damn grocery store and if we get kicked out for public indecency, I won’t have any food to cook for the house dinner tonight.
Bridgette: I guess you’ll just have to wait until we get back to the hockey house…
Dutton: Or I could order pizza. Everybody loves pizza.
Dutton is ready to get out of this store.
I know this because the looks he’s sending me are enough to make me want to bolt for the frozen food section just to cool off. Luckily, we’re almost ready to check out.
“I’ll grab these breadcrumbs and then we’re all set, right?” I ask, reaching my hand up to the top shelf for the cylindrical container. But just as my hand touches it, I feel Dutton’s body—his very hard body— pressed into mine.
“Do you need help reaching that?” he asks, his lips an inch away from my ear.
I almost laugh. “You do realize I’m not much shorter than you are, and I can reach the top shelf just fine all by myself, don’t you?”
“Can you, though?” he asks, stretching his arm over mine and grabbing what we need while the thick length of his cock wedges itself in the crease of my ass cheeks. Good. Lord. This man knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
But since it’s such a fun game, two can play.
When he goes to drop the package of breadcrumbs into the cart, I run interference and bump his hand. The container starts to tumble to the ground, so I do the only thing I can. I bend over to scoop it up before it makes a mess.
And if I happen to linger for a second with my ass in the air, so be it. And maybe I also take my sweet time rolling my body back up to a standing position so I can return the breadcrumbs to the safety of his arms.
And if all that makes my boyfriend crazy? Well, he started it.
The car ride from the grocery store back to the hockey house is quieter than I expect.
Instead of trading sexy banter, we’re sitting in silence.
And just when I’mm about to tease him, I notice his tight grip on the steering wheel.
So, that’s it. He’s keeping his mouth shut until he can put it to better use, and I’m okay with that.
There’s no doubt in my mind—or in Dutton’s pants—that he was enjoying the audiobook.
I was, too, but even more than that, I was enjoying his reaction to it.
Who knew listening to a story in the middle of a crowded shop could be this much of a turn on?
Since Dutton’s in charge of dinner tonight, he ordered everyone out of the house so he could cook without having to deal with their noise and bullshit. That’s a direct quote, by the way.
Dutton parks in his spot, and as we carry the bags inside, I hope the guys stay out a little longer because I’m all worked up and I don’t feel like being quiet.
My boyfriend unpacks our haul and puts everything away in record time, and then he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me tightly to his chest, and places his lips right next to my ear.
“I need you, Bridgette,” he says, his voice low and rough.
His other hand grips my hip, and now our bodies are nearly fused together except for these stupid clothes we’re wearing, and there’s no doubt that we’re on the same page.
“So, I’m guessing you liked the audiobook?” I tease.
“Yeah,” he admits. “It was pretty fucking hot, actually. Almost as hot as watching you blush when you were waiting to weigh the produce and Jack came so hard down Annabeth’s throat that she nearly blacked out.”
I blush at the memory.
“It’s a good book, but I do have one issue,” he says, running his hands over my hips in lazy patterns.
“Oh yeah? What’s that? Don’t tell me you feel bad for Elliot?”
“Hell no,” he scoffs. “He was a shitty boyfriend. No wonder she dumped him. My issue is that half the freaking chapter was devoted to Annabeth giving Jack a blowjob. But then, there’s like a freaking paragraph where he goes down on her.
That doesn’t seem fair, and frankly, I think Jack could use some pointers,” Dutton says, his fingers inching closer to the juncture of my thighs.
“Some pointers?” I ask, unable to hold back a giggle. “You do realize he’s a fictional character, don’t you?”
“Okay, so, maybe I’ll write my own scene. That’s called fanfiction, right?”
I nod as he grips my waist and spins me around to face him. “All my roommates are at the movies,” he says. “They won’t be back for at least an hour. I’m going to eat my weight in chicken cutlets tonight, so I think I’ll squeeze in a quick workout in the pool.”
And with that bizarre pronouncement, he kisses me on the forehead—the freaking forehead— and heads out to the patio.
Before I can even form the words What the hell? , he looks back at me with heat in his eyes. “Aren’t you coming?”
“Why would I want to sit out here and watch you swim?” I ask, following him outside. It’s a warm fall day, but it’s not pool weather. “If we’ve got an hour of privacy, I’m not wasting it watching you do laps.”
Dutton levels me with a look as he tears off his t-shirt and drops his sweats, leaving him standing in front of me in just his boxer briefs. His erection is unmistakable, and I’m dying to get my hands and mouth on it.
“I said I was getting a workout, not doing laps,” he tells me, smacking my ass lightly as he passes by me and jumps straight into the deep end of the pool.
A few droplets of water splash against my skin, and they are cold. I think he might be losing his mind, so when he swims up to the edge and looks up at me, I squat down in front of him. “Is there a reason you’re in a freezing bowl of water instead of a nice warm bed with me?”
He starts talking, but his eyes never leave mine. “Yeah, because I’m so hard right now my damn balls ache, and when I get inside you, I want it to last more than ten glorious seconds. This is my version of a cold shower. Will you grab some towels and come sit with me?”
Who could say no to that question? I grab a few towels from a nearby lounger, but before I can take a seat, Dutton is shaking his head.
“Your clothes are going to get wet,” he warns.
“Well, I don’t have a suit here, so…”
“That’s because you don’t need one. Take your clothes off and come sit here,” he says, his voice hypnotic as I fall under his spell.
In less than a minute, I’m sitting at the water’s edge in a black lace thong and matching bra.
“You’re still wearing too much,” he tells me, tracing the seam of my entrance with his finger.
Wordlessly, he helps me shimmy out of my panties before he unclasps my bra.
His hands are on my thighs half a second later. “Open up for me,” he says, his voice sounding strained.
“Shouldn’t you be working out right now?” I tease.
“I will be. I’m just waiting for you to spread your legs.”
Well, when he puts it that way, how can I refuse?
The cold temperature barely registers in my mind as I let my legs dangle over the pool’s edge.
I’m fairly certain someone could pour ice water over me right now and I wouldn’t mind.
That’s how much heat is coursing through my veins as Dutton grips my knees and parts my legs before trailing a line of open-mouthed kisses down my belly and right to my mound.
“I’m so damn hungry,” he says.
“What are you waiting for?” I tease. “You can start whenever you want to."
That’s all the invitation he needs. My body nearly melts into the concrete as his lips make contact with my pussy.
He’s relentless in his pursuit of my orgasm, and he’s eating me like he’s been starved for a week.
I’m naked in broad daylight, letting my boyfriend devour me as his very talented tongue fucks my pussy.
He’s not quiet, and neither am I. Every kiss from his lips, every lash of his tongue, every thrust of his fingers brings me one step closer to coming undone.
His hands move to my hips, gripping the flesh there and holding on tight.
“You taste so fucking good,” he praises as the vibration of his voice sets off tingles all over my body. “I’m not done, though. I just want more. I’m going to eat this sweet pussy until I feel you come on my tongue.”
Those same tingles are back. Between his dick, his mouth, and his words, I know I won’t last long. I give myself over to him, letting every sensation take me closer and closer to the edge until I’m powerless to stop the orgasm that crashes over me.