Chapter 26
T he kiss landed like a spark to dry leaves—slow to catch, then suddenly everything.
Heat, pressure, want—spilling into my mouth and stealing every single thought I’d managed to hold onto.
His lips moved against mine with the kind of intention that made my knees go soft even though I wasn’t standing.
His hands braced against the counter, his toned arms caging me in, and I could feel the tension in every inch of him—restraint and possession vibrating under his skin.
He kissed me deeper, slower, like he was imprinting something on my bones.
Like he’d been dying to do this for years and had finally decided he was done waiting.
When his mouth dragged down my jaw, stubble grazing the underside of my chin, I gasped. He licked the spot just below my ear—then kissed it—and I swear my soul started levitating .
His voice followed, low and sultry, “Your mouth tastes as sweet as your pussy does. And I didn’t think anything could be more delicious than that.”
He pulled back just enough to look at me, pupils blown wide, breath ragged. And then—he picked me up. My breath hitched, instinctively bracing myself, my fingers tightening around his shoulders. “What—Fitz?—”
“I want you closer,” he said, arms flexing around my thighs, his voice molten. “I want your ass in my hands and your body against mine. I want to feel every inch of you exactly where I want you.”
His hands were so big —his arms firm beneath my thighs and his hands gripping the softness of my cheeks, holding me with ease, like I was a fluffy pillow and not a grown ass woman.
His grip spread heat everywhere it touched, and I could feel the muscles of his chest tight against my ribs.
He backed away from the counter and pressed me up against the front wall, right next to the bakery window, glass cool at my back, him hot at my front.
“You better not ghost me this time,” I whispered, half-dazed. “Because I’ll —” I didn’t know what I wanted to say so I ground myself into him, pressing into the bulge of his erection as I nipped his neck with my teeth and then licked the tender spot.
“I didn’t ghost you.” His mouth skimmed down my throat, teeth grazing. “I walked away before I begged.”
His breath was fire against my ear. “I want to kiss you until your thighs shake, and then I want to slide my tongue back inside you while you’re still trembling.”
I whimpered. There’s no other word for the sound I made. It wasn’t a moan. It wasn’t a plea. It was a sound of surrender . He smiled against my neck, dark and wicked. “You want that?” he murmured. “Want me down on my knees again? Want me to lick your pussy until you forget your name?”
His cock was hard against me, huge —the thick length of it pressing into me through his slacks. It was impossible to ignore and I rocked once—just to feel it—just to drive myself a little crazy.
“Fuck, Charlie,” he growled. “I’m so hard for you.
I was hard before I walked in here, just thinking about being near you.
I’ve been having to tuck it into my waistband nonstop these days.
Except it slipped that morning in the kitchen and then you had me pick you up and then it was just…
right there and I knew you’d feel it on your way down. ”
“And then,” he kept right on in my ear, “it would have never gone down on its own. I had to release. I was picturing your sweet little cunt, jerking myself off, and I swear to fuck when you opened that door I thought I had moaned your name out loud or something.”
I nodded. “You did,” I whispered as I ground into him, thrusting myself forward to find the friction. Then I took my thumb and brushed the tip of his dick through his pants, a wet spot appearing where pre-cum was spilling from him.
“You do that again,” he whispered, lips brushing mine, “and I’ll come in my pants like a goddamn teenager. Is that what you want, Charlie?”
God help me, it was .
My nails dug into his shoulders. I kissed him back like I was trying to win a game I didn’t know we were playing, grinding down on that gorgeous pressure while his hands slid under my ass to lift me higher, angle me exactly where he wanted.
“Yeah, kinda,” I laughed at him as I teased his tip again. “To see the great Fitz Whitmore reduced to premature ejac– ”
“Fuck off, Charlie,” he laughed. “I would hardly call ten years of waiting for you to touch my dick premature.”
“I want you in me,” I breathed, half-drunk on him already. “Fitz?—”
He pulled back, just an inch, just enough to say, “You’ll have me.
All of me. But first—” His mouth grazed mine again.
“I’m going to make you come so hard you’ll forget how mad you were at me.
I want to taste you again. I want your cum on my tongue while you whimper my name into my neck.
And then I want to fuck you so slowly, you forget every man who ever thought he could touch you. ”
“I wasn’t mad,” I whispered, clinging to him.
“You were,” he said, smiling into my kiss. “And you were right to be, but I’m going to make it up to you.” And then his hand slid under my dress—warm, sure, home —his fingertips dragging slowly up the inside of my thigh like he already knew the exact way to detonate me.
But I stopped him. Not harsh. Just a palm on his chest. He froze, eyes snapping up to mine, breath ragged. I smirked. “Three licks,” I said.
He blinked. “What?”
“You get three licks of my pussy,” I said, voice low and sweet and absolutely sinful. “Then I want you inside me. I’ve been dreaming about your dick since the moment you left me soaked in the kitchen, and tonight? I want to come while you’re throbbing in me.”
He groaned, like a man on the edge of some religious conversion.
“I mean it,” I said, tugging his belt buckle undone. “You’ve had your fun with your mouth. Let’s see if you can make me come with your cock too. Or is the legendary Fitz Whitmore only good with his tongue? ”
His jaw flexed. His pupils blew wide. And then— oh God—then he smiled. Not his courtroom smile. Not the smug one. The other one. The one that said: You just lit the match, and I’m the firestorm coming for you.
“You really want to test me, Winslow?” he rasped, voice like silk dragged over gravel. “You want to challenge the man who’s been edging himself to the thought of fucking you for over a decade?”
I nodded, smug and soaked and desperate. “I think I can take you.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, pushing my dress up to my waist as he dropped to his knees like a king before his altar, “you will be taking all of me. Slow. Deep. Until you scream.”
Then his mouth landed on me. One lick — broad, hot, and fucking devastating. Two — a swirl of tongue that made my spine try to eject from my body. Three — a firm, deliberate drag over my clit that sent stars across the backs of my eyes.
And then he stood. Breathless. Controlled. Cock tenting his slacks like it was angry at being restrained.
“You sure you don’t want me to keep licking you?” he asked, grinding against me. “This is going to stretch you.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and rolled my hips up into his. “I want everything.”
And when he reached down, unzipped, shoved his pants open, and pulled it out, time stopped. My thoughts collapsed into a single, shimmering point of focus: his cock. Because holy mother of God. I looked down and saw it—saw him —and if I hadn’t already been soaked, that alone would’ve done it.
I’d caught a good glimpse or two in his bedroom, but this was up close.
And I was allowed to gawk. He was gorgeous.
Long and thick and impossibly hard, the shaft flushed with a heavy vein running along the underside, twitching like it had something to prove.
The head was fat, glistening with pre-cum, so swollen and pink at the slit.
He positioned himself at the entrance to my pussy and dragged the thick, flushed tip against the wet heat of me. With one hand, he guided his cock slowly up and down, running the tip from my folds to my clit, where he drew a circle, leaving a smear of himself on me.
I let out the softest, neediest moan, and he smiled—filthy and reverent all at once. “Eyes on me, baby,” he murmured. “I want you to watch what I do to you. Get ready.”
And I did. Because how could I not?
He gripped the base of himself, thick fingers wrapped around all that goddamn size like it took effort to keep himself from surging forward. And then he angled his hips and dragged the crown of his cock—hot, wet, perfect —through my folds.
“Jesus Christ,” I choked, my head falling back against the glass. “Fitz— please ?—”
“You feel that?” he whispered, mouth brushing my neck as he rocked forward just enough to press the swollen head right into my entrance, holding there, not thrusting in yet. Teasing. Testing.
All I could get out was please.
“I’m going to fuck you slow and deep,” he said. “Make you take every inch. Make you feel what I’ve been holding back for ten fucking years.”
And then? He pushed inside me. Like he was sinking into something sacred. Like my body was a prayer and he’d finally decided to kneel.
The stretch was instant—wide, hot, almost too much. I gasped, my hands gripping his shoulders, my fingernails biting into muscle that flexed as he held himself there, halfway in, jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might crack.
He eased in deeper, inch by inch, and I could feel every ridge, every pulse, as he worked himself further into me with the patience of a man who knew the reward would be worth the restraint. He was a bit more than halfway when he paused.
“Hold on, baby, I got you.” He slowly eased himself out, and I whimpered as I watched as his thick shaft pulled out of me, the crown raging pink and swollen as it slipped out from my pussy. Then, he held up his hand and told me to spit.