Chapter 22
[Tate]
And what do you need?
The question echoes through my head as she stands there, bib overalls loose and dangling against her belly. Her nipples erect through both her bra and her shirt. The scent of her lingering between us. The taste of her on my tongue.
What I need is all of her. Her laughter and her sass. Her quirks and her attitude. Her smile and her body. I want it all, but I don’t think Neve is ready to give me so much.
And I know what she’s implying, especially as her eyes travel from my mouth to my chest then to the uncomfortable bulge in my jeans.
With one leg still on the bench and the other foot on the floor, she can’t miss the bulge of my zipper, the teeth biting into me, holding back the hard length.
“Do you ache?” she hums, leaning forward, setting one hand on my knee, and reaching for the other one to pull my foot to the floor.
I sit upright and lean back. “You don’t need to do this,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. The tension inside me wound as tight as a ribbon around her finger.
“What if I want to?” She lowers to her knees. Her legs spread wide to accommodate her belly.
“I can’t have you kneel before me like this.” She’s pregnant on the hardwood deck.
“Then stand in front of me. Feed me.” Her voice drops, her shoulder shrugging coy and flirtatious.
She’s a fucking dream.
“Neve,” I warn, not needing this, but wanting it. Wanting her mouth around me so badly, my mouth salivates.
She slowly presses off my legs, and I help her stand. Then she takes a seat again on the swing and pushes at my shoulder.
I don’t know that I’ve ever done something like this. Been so bold and stood in front of a woman, ready for her to take me as Neve intends.
Neve spreads her legs, scooting to the edge of the swing, then she looks up at me, hooking her hands into my belt.
Her eyes are bright blue and wide, like distant sails on the bay. She smiles as she pulls my shirt from my jeans and then closes her eyes, leaning in to press a kiss to my belly. My abs contract, air filling my lungs as I suck in.
She smiles and works at my belt, while I stroke my hands through her hair. The anticipation is exhilarating. I might come just from watching her release the buckle and lower the zipper, already thinking about that mouth around me again.
“Neve,” I choke as she wraps her hand around me, over my boxer briefs. Her other hand is hooked into the open zipper, and her fingers brush against my covered balls.
She moves fast to lower my jeans and underwear in one smooth tug, bringing them just below my ass, just below my cock. She stares at the length.
Then she looks up at me and leans forward, licking up the hard ridge, until dipping her head and kissing the tip. Then she swallows me again.
With her toes tipped, she gently rocks the swing, using it to draw her back and forth. Plunging me to the back of her throat, then dragging to the tip.
I slip my fingers through her hair and tighten my fist at the base of her neck, clutching at the short strands, as Neve takes me.
Deeper and deeper, into the well of her mouth.
“Fuck, that feels good,” I groan. “So good.”
She hollows her cheeks, surging forward, or maybe I thrust toward her.
Faster and faster, like the beating of my heart.
“Neve,” I warn, or I beg. I’m no longer certain which because all I feel is the warmth of her mouth and the pull of her lips and the wetness of her tongue. She laps up the length and then powers down it again, sucking tighter.
And the harder and harder I fall.
It happens so quickly, I hardly have time to warn her. I thrust forward, and she swallows me back, and then I’m breaking apart inside her. Shattering. Coming so hard the porch tilts and silver stars explode behind my eyelids.
“Neve.” I pet her hair and glance down at her, still licking the length, cleaning me up.
She pulls off me with a pop and glances up at me with a pleased, wet smile. I run my thumb along her bottom lip.
“Why do you look like you thoroughly enjoyed that?” Like she wanted to bring me to my knees and nearly did.
“Better than pie filling,” she states like I did, and while she laughs, I chuckle, choppy and thick, knowing she’s filling me up.
She’s stitching up a damaged heart, making whole what I thought was broken.
She’ll never understand. She’s better than all the pies in the world.