Chapter 25 #2
“Cheesecake. She would blow her baking budget on real vanilla pods from the fancy health food store. When we were little, I used to watch her slice them open and scrape the seeds into the cheesecake batter. When I got older, she began making her own vanilla extracts. Birthday gifts were so easy for her. Get her a dried vanilla pod variety pack from all over the world. She would screech with happiness every time.”
I smile. “Was it always vanilla cheesecake?”
“In a way, yes. Her cheesecakes always had vanilla. Like, that was her base. But she’d made every flavor imaginable. We used to joke that she could open the dessert portion of Cheesecake Factory from her kitchen.”
“Which flavor was your favorite?” I asked, leaning into his shoulder, running my hands over the soft fabric covering his chest.
“Peanut butter chocolate. She would make the thick, homemade whipped cream and make it even better by adding chocolate flavoring to it. She’d put it in one of those bakery bags and pipe it all over the cheesecake, then shave chocolate on top.”
“Mmm.” I close my eyes, and I can see it: the dessert, delicious and beautiful and lovingly made. “That sounds so good. Was the cheesecake peanut butter flavored or chocolate flavored or both?”
“Peanut butter. Then she’d make this ganache and drizzle it over the top. It’s what she—” He chokes up. “Sorry.” He takes one deep, slow breath. “She always made it for my birthday. Except for the year she died, since I didn’t make it down.”
“Do you need to cry? It sounds like you need to cry.” I glance up at him.
He shakes his head. “I probably do need to cry, but I really don’t want to right now.”
I nod. “Okay.”
I push up onto an elbow and lean down to kiss him. I don’t know why, but the kiss deepens quickly, and I feel the space between my legs heat just as fast. We both moan and the throw slips off my shoulders and I lift one leg to straddle him.
He looks up at me, awe in his eyes. “Look at you.” His gaze drops down to my hips, which he then grabs with his hands.
“Jesus. Just look at you.” He slides his hands up to my waist, tightens his grip, and flips me around until he’s behind me, my face pressed against the pillow.
He lifts my hips so that my ass is completely in the air.
He grabs me and pulls me apart and I gasp.
“I want to make you come again,” he says. “Is that okay?”
I nod, and realize he probably can’t see me. I lift my face a little bit and say, “Yes. Please.” And then bury my face back against the pillow mountain.
At first, it’s not what I expected, feeling his mouth and tongue at what is probably the most vulnerable part of my body.
It feels warm and wet, and I can’t get past those neutral descriptors until he does something with his tongue that makes me moan, and when he does it again, whatever it is, I push my ass back into his face even deeper.
When he moans in return, I feel it everywhere. Everywhere.
Adam slides his hand between my legs and slides his fingers into me. I’m so wet, I can feel it dripping down my inner thighs, and I think it surprises him and turns him on because he moans again and his licks become more and more sloppy.
He works his fingers into me and I reach back to adjust his hand.
“There,” I say with a whimper. “There.” According to my research, what I’m referring to is my G-spot.
I looked up how to discover it for myself and it wasn’t hard at all.
I’m shocked at how many men deny it exists.
“I like it hard,” I tell him, and he obliges, finger-fucking me hard and fast and I moan so loudly, the pillow does nothing to smother the sound.
The orgasm builds up quickly. I feel like I’m on the edge for ages, and when Adam reaches up and pinches my clit, I’m done for. I moan and moan into the pillows, and I can feel everything contracting as I come—my pussy, my ass, even my lower belly and thighs feel like they’re joining in.
When I’m done, I collapse on the bed for a few minutes. “I’ll get another washcloth,” Adam says, laughing at me. He cleans up in the bathroom first, then brings back the washcloth, starting with my thighs, and then everywhere else.
“That felt so good,” I tell him lazily.
“Good.” He smiles at me, and I think we’re having perhaps what might be one of the most intimate moments of just looking at each other, when my stomach betrays me by growling so loud, it sounds like there’s a trapped wildebeest in there.
We both laugh at the same time. “There’s plenty of leftovers,” Adam says, pointing his thumb toward the stairs. “Or we can get something. Or go out. Whatever you want.”
“Definitely leftovers. That was so good.”
“Which part?” he asks with a wink, letting me grab his arm so he can assist me off the bed.
“The paneer.” I reach into my armoire and grab a fluffy cerulean robe.
“And the naan. And the pussy eating. And the ass eating. All the eating. And watching you come. I liked that a lot, too.” I pause after I’ve tied the robe around my waist and look up at him.
He’s staring at me with an expression that is uncomfortably close to adoration. “Did you have fun?”
He smiles slowly. “It would be an egregious understatement, but yeah. I had fun, Sky.”
“Okay,” I say, just as my stomach growls again, and he laughs again.
“Come on.” He gently guides me toward the stairs as though I’m precious to him. “Let’s eat something.”