10. Tate
CHAPTER 10
Tate
I ’ve never felt so out of control in my life.
Piper is more decadent than anything I could ever make. The sight of her body, her tan skin covered in flour, in my handprint, is making me practically feral.
I want to kiss her, and her no-kissing rule is driving me absolutely fucking wild.
I shouldn’t take her like this, bent over the kitchen island. Part of my brain, the part that’s a chef, is screaming at me for doing this. The other part of my brain, though, remembers that everything can be bleached enough to be clean again. But I might never have the chance to fuck Piper in the kitchen again.
I can hear either Brent or Dalton fucking around outside. Piper clearly can, too, and she’s a little freaked out by the idea. But when I tell her that they could join, she likes it. Because her sweet pussy contracts around me.
I grin. “You want that, Piper?”
“I… Um…”
I press further, her body welcoming me inch by fucking inch. “You want us to share you? To have all three of us show you how fucking sexy we think you are? To show you how you deserve to be fucking worshipped?”
“Tate,” she moans.
I know, baby. I fucking know.
Slowly, I start to drive my hips into her. She’s still standing somewhat upright, but I need to deepen the angle.
I’m not going to last long, and I need her to come before I do.
Gently, I press on the center of Piper’s back, and she leans down. Her breasts hit the cool, flour-covered island, and she shivers. It makes her squeeze me again, and I grit my teeth, trying to keep myself from exploding right now.
“God damn, Piper,” I manage to grunt. “You’re so fucking good. You feel so fucking good, wrapped around me.”
She whimpers again, and I know that she likes to hear how she makes me feel.
Slowly, I start to pump in and out of her. I grab her hips for stability, giving myself an anchor as I work my cock in and out of her body. If I look down, I can see where we’re joined. Where she’s taking me so fucking well. I’ve never seen anything hotter in my entire life.
“You take me so well, baby. I bet you took Dalton well, too. You were made for me. Made for us,” I emphasize.
She gives a little cry, her nails scrabbling paths through the remnants of the flour on the island.
Oh, yeah. She definitely likes that.
“I think you want one of them to walk in, Piper,” I purr, hitting a rhythm that’s going to send me over the fucking edge. “I think you want one of them to come through the door and see you, laid out, covered in flour, covered in my handprints. You want them to come in, and when I’m done, they can fuck you right after. Fill you up again,” I moan.
Okay. The image is just as fucking hot to me as it is to her, and I can feel the orgasm building at the edge of my awareness.
Time to make Piper come, because I’m not gonna fucking make it.
I adjust slightly, knocking her legs further apart, and one of my hands drifts down to her clit. Piper is gasping as I pick up the pace, and the sound of my heavy balls slapping against her perfect ass fills the kitchen.
“We can make that happen, Piper,” I growl. “We can do anything that you fucking want. I’ll fill you up so that we can have a fucking baby. And then Dalton and Brent can do the same fucking thing, until you’re dripping with our seed,” I rasp.
Holy hell. Under my hands, Piper’s body shakes. She lets out a cry, and she gasps my name. Then, I can feel her squeezing me.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
My hand goes back to her hip, and I slam into her, my movements chaotic as I try to fight against the squeezing of her body. Finally, my orgasm rips through me, and I shove deep inside her, her body taking every last fucking drop that I have as I come harder than I have ever in my fucking life.
My legs are shaking. My hands feel like they’re going to lose grip on Piper, but I can’t do that. I think she might literally fall if I do.
We stand there for a second, breathing. I make sure to support her, moving an arm to hold her up at her waist. She shivers.
“Piper?” I ask, worried that something is wrong.
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
Piper gives a little laugh, and the motion from her body makes my cock tighten again. “I’m good, Tate. Really good.”
“Okay.”
We’re still joined. Honestly, if I stay here much longer, I’m going to get hard again.
“Tate?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I take a shower?”
I laugh then. I slowly pull out of her, then scoop her up. Naked, I take a squeaking Piper upstairs.
“Only if I share with you,” I whisper into her skin.
Piper squirms. “You don’t have to do that.”
Oh, but I do.
“Let me take care of you, Piper,” I say, meeting her green eyes with my own.
Piper gives me a look. Then she nods. “Okay.”
I smile. I like to take care of people. I know that it’s not necessarily something I’m going to advertise, but I always have. It’s part of why I’m a chef. That feeling when you’ve given someone something, and they like it? It’s better than drugs, that’s for sure.
In the bathroom that’s attached to my room, I set Piper onto the counter. She crosses her legs, her cheeks flaming.
“You okay?”
“Um. Yeah. I just… I might… there might be…” She stammers.
Oh, good god. “Piper. Are you trying to say that you’re trying to keep my cum inside you?”
Her blush deepens.
“Well, I’m just trying not to make a mess on the counter!” she squeaks.
Fuck. Fuck me.
I lean over, trying to give her a kiss to reassure her, but at the last minute I remember.
No kissing.
I really fucking hate that rule.
“Give me a second,” I growl.
Piper looks at me, curious. I start the shower so that the ancient water heater has time to heat. Then, I take her off the counter and lean in close. My hands drift down her thighs, and she twitches. I give her a smile, leaning in to kiss her neck.
“Open those pretty thighs for me, Piper,” I whisper.
She’s clearly uncertain, but she does as I ask. The feeling of her listening to my command is going to make me drunk with lust all over again.
I kiss her neck, and slowly, I press two fingers inside of her, my thumb resting on her clit.
She gasps. “Tate.”
“You can’t make a mess if I fuck it back into you,” I growl.
Piper’s body contracts. I can tell that she’s close, and the idea of pressing all the seed that I just gave her back into her is making me hard again. But I want Piper to enjoy this.
The steam from the shower is making the whole bathroom hazy. I rub big circles around her clit, slowly pressing my fingers into her slick channel. She gasps, and when I know she’s about to explode, I bite gently on her neck.
Piper shudders, the orgasm contracting her around my fingers.
I let her come down, the urge to kiss her burning through me. Instead, I stare at her face, and when she opens her eyes, I smile.
“There. Now. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I shower with Piper. I wash her hair, cleaning it gently and giving her a scalp massage. She tries to reciprocate, but I shrug her off. This is about her.
Her rules around this suck. But I am doing my best to show her that it could be like this… always. If she just wanted to be ours.
It’s weird, because in many ways, we have a great actual relationship with Piper. She’s our longest friendship, aside from each other. We show up for each other to help when we need to, as more than just neighbors. It’s a better relationship than many marriages I’ve seen. There’s just not a sexual aspect to it.
Clean, with Piper in a pair of my old basketball shorts and a baggy shirt, we head downstairs. I clean off the island, noticing how Piper keeps blushing when looking at it.
I wink at her. “Nothing that a little cleaner won’t handle, Piper.”
She puts her head in her hands at the kitchen table. “Oh, my gosh. I don’t think I’m going to be able to look at that island ever again.”
“Oh, I think you definitely should.”
She gives me a look, and I dart closer to her, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “Because then you’ll be thinking of me.”
Piper swats at my shoulder, and I laugh, walking the couple of feet back into the kitchen.
“You’re a shameless flirt, Tate.” She rolls her eyes as she relaxes into the kitchen chair.
“No. I just really like you, Piper,” I murmur as I smile at her.
She blushes and looks away, and I ache to have her know that I’m serious.
It’s the truth. I’ve never been shy about how I feel about Piper. She’s just never really seemed to reciprocate it.
Piper gives me another eye roll. “Be useful and hand me my camera.”
“As you wish, my lady,” I intone.
I bring her the camera, then turn my attention back to the cake. I usually do the lemon cake as a bundt, just for the ease of it, but this time, I did it up good. The blood orange cake, though, is going to be a monster, a four-tiered cake soaked in the syrup from Piper’s incredibly delicious, canned blood oranges, with fresh whipped cream between each layer.
I want her to love it. After what we just did together, I want Piper to love everything about the life that we have. I want her to see that we’re already so much more than just friends.
I peek back over my shoulder while I’m getting everything together for the cake. She’s sitting in her chair, tapping at the iPad that she dropped in the kitchen earlier. It looks like she might be uploading pictures from her camera to the device, because her nose is wrinkled in concentration, and she glances between the two things.
God. She’s fucking adorable.
“You know, I really think that Dalton is going to sell this better than you and Brent,” she murmurs as she taps on a picture.
I huff. “Yeah, right. Dalton doesn’t like to take pictures, and he’d rather die than do an interview.”
“Okay, well. Be that as it may, check these out.” She turns the tablet around.
I walk away from pouring the heavy cream into the mixer. My eyebrows raise.
“Shit, Piper. Why’d you make him look like a damn model?”
She laughs. “I didn’t do anything! That’s just how he looks.”
“I’ve lived with Dalton since we were knee-high to a grasshopper. That man does not look like that.” I wave the spatula at the tablet.
Dalton’s eyes are serious as he stares at the horse, and the intensity on his face radiates outward. Shit, I’d buy anything with that picture plastered on it. He looks like what everyone’s idea of a cowboy is. Except, he’s Dalton.
Piper leans back, her eyes searching the picture. “You know, I think that there’s something we could do to showcase the farm.”
“What do you mean?”
“At the end of summer, right before September, the farmers market does an end-of-summer bash. A lot of the vendors use it as their close-out for the year. Montana growing season is pretty short, so a lot of the seasonal produce is over with. It’s kind of an all-day thing, and at night, there’s usually a local band that plays, and there’s dancing and stuff. They call it the Harvest Bash. We could make our own booth. Take some samples of your stuff, some cuts of meat from Brent’s cattle. Show off some videos of Dalton’s horses.”
“That could be a really good place for people to interact with us, if they’re just watching our socials.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Piper says softly. “It might just be locals, but I know that some of the rich people from Bozeman or Butte are always showing up at that type of stuff.”
It’s true. Even though a lot of Montana is slowly being sold to rich CEOs and Hollywood-type folks, they tend to stay in their little areas. However, events like these are drawing more and more of them out of the woodwork.
“I like it,” I say. “It gives us a goal to work toward.”
“Yeah.” Piper looks pensive. “That would pretty much give us a goal and a timeline that we could look to.”
I tilt my head. “Penny for your thoughts, Pipes?”
Sighing, Piper sets the tablet down. “Oh, I don’t know. I was kind of wondering if that… if this… Things might just be different by then, I guess.”
My eyes drop meaningfully to her stomach, then back up to meet her gaze.
“I kind of hope they are,” I say with a smile.
Hell. I hope that by then, things are very different.
If we can walk out of that Harvest Bash a family, a real family, then this whole summer might just have worked out after all.