Chapter 20 #2
“What’s all this?” I gesture around the kitchen, trying to hold in my amusement.
My kitchen does not look the same as it did when I left it.
There’s mess everywhere. Not one surface is clear. I spy things I don’t recognize as mine—mixing bowls, rolled dough, baking trays . . . I know for a fact I do not own baking trays. And everything’s covered in a light dusting of icing sugar.
“I picked up a couple of the gingerbread houses.” Her eyes widen excitedly. “I never get to do the competition back home because I’m always helping. But man, this one is hard, ya know.” She puffs away a strand of hair. “The little edges don’t stay together.”
I nod. Because I do know. I spent the better part of three days making a gingerbread house for her last year. I bought two dozen kits to practice on, and roped my brothers into helping, but it got me first place, and her.
“I made your store out of gingerbread if you remember.”
She smiles wistfully. “I remember.”
Removing my jumper, I roll up my sleeves like the gingerbread house aficionado I am. “Then step aside and let the expert at it.” I pick up the bowl she’d been mixing. “The icing is too runny, look.”
Dipping my finger in, I scrape it around the edge of the bowl and hold it out to show her. The icing drips off.
Her eyes flick to the counter, where everything’s laid out ready to assemble. But after a long, exaggerated sigh, her gaze slides back to mine. A twinkle replaces the fake annoyance she’s wearing, and a flush rises like sunrise over her cheeks.
Sticking her tongue out, she sucks my finger into her mouth before releasing it with a loud pop.
I forget all about the gingerbread house.
Her eyes flash, waiting for my response. I’d be willing to bet a hefty sum that’s exactly what she wanted. And she’s already dripping wet for me.
“How long have we got until Everly wakes up?”
“Thirty minutes.”
Leaning forward, I stop short of my lips brushing hers. “Let’s see what I can do—”
I don’t get to finish before she’s tugging my shirt free. I follow, yanking her vest up until her tits bounce free, and it’s my lucky day because she’s not wearing a bra, and they look fucking fantastic.
My face drops between them, palming them into my cheeks. But Haven’s already way ahead of me, unbuckling my belt for her hand to slip inside my boxers.
And that’s when I notice them.
“Haven,” I moan, lifting her nails, each one painted like Christmas with a different figure on. Just like last year, just like I remembered.
“Thought you’d like them.” She winks, sliding her hands into my boxers.
The first touch of her cool fingers wrapping around my dick has me gasping.
“Jesus, Hayve.” I reluctantly ease out of her grip for thirty seconds, making quick work of the rest of her clothing until she’s gloriously naked, and I’m watching the rosy pre-orgasmic flush I’m obsessed with spread across her skin.
She must be waiting to see what I’m about to do because her hands ease out of my boxers and drop.
Hoisting her up, I wrap her legs around me and deposit her on the counter. I barely register the squeal as I prop one of her feet on my shoulder and rest the other on the edge of the cool marble countertop, while I hope to fucking God no one decides to pay us a visit.
Scraping my stubbled cheek up the delicate skin on her inner thigh, I drag my lips upward, soaking in the sound of her panting. Every inch closer I get to her pussy I’m rewarded with a garbled moan that sounds a lot like my name.
It’s when I trail my tongue through her slit and suck her clit that I hear a thud and look up to see Haven’s head fallen on the cupboard, teeth scraping along her lip. “Fuck . . . Alex.”
I lean back and look at her spread in front of me, glistening pussy on full display, swollen clit waiting for my touch. Using the same finger I ran through the icing, I swipe through her pussy and hold it out.
“So wet. Haven, were you thinking about me while I was gone?”
She nods, taking my finger into her mouth. Sparks shoot down my spine as she sucks and swirls her tongue over the tip. Fuck.
On the counter, I spy a plastic pastry brush. Another thing I definitely didn’t own before this morning, and I ease it toward me, along with the bowl of icing, then drop to my knees.
The first touch of cold on her sensitive skin causes her eyes to flare open.
“Alex, what are you—” Her words are swallowed with a groan as I flick the brush over her clit that makes her pussy clench, and she mumbles a breathy, “I’m going to be all sticky.”
“No, baby. That’s the beauty of it. I’ll lick you clean.” I stick my tongue out and do exactly that. “Mmm, delicious.” I finish with suctioning my lips around her clit, and her thighs tremble violently. “Easy, Hayve. We’ve got thirty minutes, remember? Let me take my time.”
I go again, watching her pussy swell with the sensations of the hard brush and my soft tongue, painting her in icing and licking it off until she’s gasping and dripping onto the counter as I edge her closer.
My tongue spears inside her before I drag it back over her clit, lapping up her juices like a melted ice-lolly.
Somewhere along the way, the bowl is knocked over and forgotten about, and I have to work to keep her thighs spread as she tries to clamp them shut.
Hands fist my hair, and she expels another loud groan. The noises she makes, the way her grip tightens to the point of pain, it’s so fucking addictive. She’s addictive.
Her cries become whimpers as she tries to push her hips into my face for more friction, but I’m gripping her so hard she’ll have fingerprints to count tomorrow. Instead, I double down, suctioning over her clit as I ram two fingers inside her and curl up.
“Alex!”
She shatters, squeezing my fingers while I lap at her clit, pushing her further until her body goes limp. The hold she has on my hair relaxes, and I look up to find vacant eyes, head dropped back, while her breaths even out.
“How long do we have left?”
I turn to the clock. “Twenty-one minutes.”
Tits bounce as she slides herself off the counter and stands in front of me, eyebrow raised in question.
“Get on your knees.”
She kneels in front of me, face flushed, eyes glistening, and lips swollen from kissing. And there’s still the hint of icing sugar swiped across her forehead.
She’s so fucking beautiful.
And I would give up everything I’ve ever known for her and Everly.
I don’t care what Lando’s decision is. I love her. I’m in love with her, and maybe I have been since the first time I laid eyes on her standing by the jukebox.
Those same eyes stare up at me now, full of life and a whole lot of sass. “What am I waiting for?”
She licks her lips, waiting for me to reply.
Unbuckling the rest of my belt, I pull my cock out. “This.”
I’m so fucking hard from getting her off, one look at my dick in her face, and her eyes pop wide. Air’s sucked to the back of her throat and exhaled on a groan.
“Oh.”
“Open your mouth.”
She does as I ask, looking so fucking hot all chest heaving, pink tongue resting on her bottom lip, her eyes holding mine as I smear precum around her mouth.
“Now suck.”
She takes me in, all the way, cheeks hollowing out until I hit the back of her throat, and she pulls away. Then goes again, tongue twisting. It’s fucking incredible, and when she laces her fingers over mine and takes hold of my dick, my balls tighten and my head falls back.
“Jesus, Hayve.”
Batting my hand away, she takes control, nostrils flaring as she steadies her breathing. So I push her hair back and watch my dick disappear between her soft, plump lips. My hips buck deeper, and she takes it all.
If there’s an art to giving good head, Haven is Picasso.
Reaching around, she runs her finger between my legs, finishing with a gentle squeeze of my balls, and knowing I’m close sucks me deeper. And I fucking love her even more for it.
“Haven . . . shiiit.” My legs buckle, and I explode, hitting the back of her throat, coating her tongue and spilling down her chin before she gets a chance to swallow.
My fingers stay in her hair, holding her still, and I concentrate on the sensation of her tongue licking me clean until she pops off and leans back on her haunches.
She’s as breathless as I am, arm swiping across her mouth. Dropping down, I grab her chin, bringing her face to mine, and I kiss her until we collapse on the floor.
“Holy shit.” She exhales into my shoulder.
Holy shit is right.
I have icing in my hair, I’m sticky, my clothes are covered in sugar, and when I finally work up the energy to survey the mess, I bark out a laugh, because right there in the gingerbread dough is a perfect print of her arse.
Using the counter for leverage, she pulls herself up to see what I’m laughing at, and groans.
“How ’bout we keep that batch just for us?”