33. The Perfect Sundae #2
I nod, though I only intend to give her the night, because I’m hardly done with this.
“As long as you know...” My fingers graze her cheek before I let my hand drop back to the counter. “You don’t have to imagine some other life where things are different. A world where you’re someone else, somewhere else, to find peace.”
I stand and walk to the fridge, fish a cherry out of the jar, and place it carefully on the sundae.
When I catch her smile, I beam too. “We’ll get it, me and you. Everything you’ve ever wanted.”
“With a cherry on top,” she says wistfully.
Yeah. With a cherry on top.
“Well, starting tomorrow, you’ll need to stop feeding me this much junk food, or Cherry and TOP is all I’ll have left once they stop booking me for shows.”
“Oh, no.” I quickly slide the sundae to my side of the island. “We wouldn’t want that.”
She bursts into wild laughter. “Is someone feeling a little jealous?”
“Me? Never,” I mock before walking to her. “Just worried about your career and all.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Lucky for me, I’ve got no shows coming up.”
“Yeah?” she muses, fingers pulling my hair back.
“Yes. I can eat whatever I want, all night long.” I tap the island next to her. “Hop up.”
She bites her lip, but does as I ask, hopping onto the cool marble counter. I grab the siphon filled with fresh whipped cream and reach for the zipper of her dress. “May I?”
She nods.
I ease the fabric off her shoulders, letting it glide down her body in slow motion, revealing inch after inch of flawless skin. The dress pools around her hips for a moment before slipping away entirely, leaving her sitting there in nothing but a lacy black thong that makes my head spin.
“You’re worthy of worship, Charlotte,” I say, my voice thick. “You’re art.” I give the siphon a shake, the sound of it rattling in the silence. “And tonight, you’re dinner.”
I press the nozzle and release a perfect spiral of whipped cream over one nipple, then the other. The cold cream hits her skin, making her gasp, her nipples hardening into tight little peaks, begging for my mouth.
My lips are on her in an instant, sucking one peak clean, then moving to the other. She moans, her fingers tangling in my hair.
I trail a line of cream down her stomach, following the curve of her waist, the dip of her navel. She shivers beneath me, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as I pop a cherry into my mouth, bite gently, and then press the sweet half between her lips.
She takes it, her tongue brushing against mine in a kiss that’s so fucking hot it could set the room on fire. The taste of her, cherries, cream...it’s the most decadent dessert.
I slide her further back on the island, lying her down gently on the cool marble. Her back arches as I lean over her, drizzling cream along her thigh, her hip, the sensitive skin near the crease where her thigh meets her pelvis, licking it all clean within seconds.
“Relax,” I whisper when she squirms in my hands. “Let me enjoy my meal.”
I sink lower, my lips trailing kisses along the path of cream, my tongue lapping at her skin. My hands grip her thighs, spreading them wider as I move even lower.
Her thong is soaked already, and I can smell her arousal, sweet and heady. I hook my fingers into the lace and pull it aside, exposing her to me completely. She’s glistening, pink and swollen, and I can’t fucking wait to taste her—but I want to take my time. Make her writhe. Make her beg .
“Fuck, Charlotte,” I breathe, brushing my lips along the inside of her thigh. “You’re dripping for me.”
“Please, Chef...” She shivers, her hips lifting just slightly off the counter.
I reach over, pluck a cherry by the stem from the bowl, and hold it between my teeth. Her eyes go wide, her lips parting as she watches me lower my mouth to her heat, the cherry dangling between my lips.
Then it touches her.
She gasps as the cool, sticky fruit grazes her clit, the smooth surface sliding over her. I move slow, rolling the cherry over her in small circles, letting it bump and drag against the bundle of nerves until her thighs are trembling and her moans are coming fast and shaky.
“Fuck, Aaron—” she whimpers, her hands clutching the edge of the counter, white-knuckled. “I need you...”
I flick the cherry faster, watching her grind against that tiny fruit pressed between my teeth, teasing her until her hips start jerking beneath me.
Then I pull back, pluck the cherry into my mouth, and bite down—her slickness mixing with the juice as it explodes across my tongue.
She stares down at me, flushed and panting, and I chew slowly, swallowing with a low groan. “Fucking delicious. But I know a Cherry that tastes better.”
Before she can catch her breath, I press my mouth to her pussy, licking her clit with a long, hot stroke of my tongue. She cries out, her whole body jolting.
I don’t let up, my tongue working her clit in tight circles while my fingers slide inside her, fucking her steadily. She’s so tight, so fucking wet, and I can feel her walls clenching around my fingers as she gets closer and closer to the edge.
“I want you inside me,” she says, reaching for my hair and looking down at me with a crazed expression. “Now.”
I don’t hesitate. I grab her waist, and once her legs cross over my ass, I steer her toward the living room, my mouth at her ear. “Then get on your knees.”
I throw her on the couch, and once she quickly gathers herself, she sits on her heels, naked perfection. I meant the other way, so I could fuck her like she requested. But before I can tell her to turn around, she’s fumbling with the zipper of my jeans, then taking my cock out.
Her mouth wrap around me, no teasing or dragging it out, and my abs immediately go stiff. Her tongue swirls around the tip, then she sinks lower, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks.
It’s like every bone in my body turns into jelly.
“Fuck, baby.” I’ve been craving to feel her sucking me off since my brother cockblocked me, and my hands dive into her hair, gripping tight, guiding her. She hums, sending vibrations down my shaft that make me curse under my breath. “Just like that, shit...”
She takes me deeper as her hand works in tandem with her mouth, stroking what she can’t fit in while still maintaining a steady rhythm.
I fully intend to finish inside her tight cunt, so I pull back slightly, panting as I try to regain some semblance of control. But, unhappy I’ve pulled back, she leans forward and takes me again.
Every nerve in my body is on fire, every thrust of her lips, every flick of her tongue sending electric shocks straight to my soul. I’m moaning, begging her not to stop, my hips bucking into her mouth as she takes me faster, until I’m right on the fucking edge.
My hands bury into her hair on either side of her head. I resist the impulse of shoving her down, and noticing my hesitation, she looks up. “Take what you need, Aaron. Use me. I can handle it.”
Fuck.
With a guttural noise, I tighten my grip on her hair and thrust forward, burying myself deep. She chokes around me, the contraction making my vision blur as I lose myself in the wet heat of her mouth.
I set a brutal pace, my hips snapping forward as I take exactly what she offered. Each thrust is desperate, my cock hitting the back of her throat again and again. She takes it, eyes locked on mine, swallowing me down like she was made for this.
“Charlotte—oh my—take it, fuck yeah, I can’t believe—shit, I...fuck, fuck, fuck !”
Tears prick the corners of her eyes, saliva slicking her chin, but she doesn’t pull away. If anything, she urges me on, her fingers digging into my ass like she wants me to fuck her mouth even harder.
“Hold on—wait—” I mumble. My muscles lock and my body shakes as I slam deep one last time, then appeal to every bit of my self-control and pull back.
She licks her glistening lips clean, dark green eyes staring up at me. “What’s wrong, Chef? I thought it was my turn to eat?”
I’m at a loss for words with how gorgeous she looks like that. Red-rimmed eyes, tear marks on her cheeks, her hair a mess of ember curls. Disheveled and undone for me .
I grip her arm and turn her over, enjoying her squeal when the rough skin of my hand meets her soft ass with a loud clap.
I wait for a reaction to make sure I didn’t overstep, and she arches perfectly for me, chest spasming against the couch cushion. I take a second to admire the sight. Her legs spread for me, the red shape of my hand on her asscheek, moisture glistening on her inner thighs.
“Should we move this to the bedroom?” she says, meeting my gaze over her shoulder. “I’m not in the mood for another family reunion.”
“You’re delusional if you think I’d make it past the stairs.”
I strip out of my clothes in record time and run my hands up the backs of her thighs to her hips.
I press a kiss to her shoulder blade then line myself up until the head of my cock slides through her slick heat.
The scent of her skin—shit, it does something to me.
More than desire, more than lust. I love her, and I need her to know.
“Stop playing,” she hisses, tugging me closer. “If you don’t give it to me right now, I?—”
Fine. I thrust into her in one slow, steady stroke, and her hands grip the couch tighter as I start to move, my fingers digging into her hips. The sound of our bodies meeting echoes off the walls—wet, filthy, perfect.
“That what you needed?” I grit out, thrusting harder.
“Yes, fuck, yes.” She pushes back against me. “This cock—my God .”
I slide a hand up her back, fisting her hair, pulling her head back to expose the long line of her neck.
“You feel how deep I am, baby?” I whisper against her ear. “No one else’s ever going to fuck you like this ever again. No one will make you come like this but me.”
“Only you,” she moans. “Only you, Aaron.”
I reach around and find her clit, rubbing tight circles in reward. Her moans turn into high, broken cries.
“I’m so close,” she gasps. “I’m gonna?—”
“Come for me,” I growl. “Let me feel you lose it.”
She falls apart with a sharp cry, her body convulsing, her pussy clenching around me so hard I nearly blackout. I hold her tight, driving into her a few more desperate times before I come with a whimper, spilling inside her.
We collapse together, breathless and shaking, her chest pressed into the cushions, me blanketing her from behind. I press lazy kisses to her spine, her shoulder, her damp skin.
She laughs softly, exhausted and glowing. “Couch sex is underrated.”
I smile, trailing my fingers over her hip. “With you, everything is.”
The landline rings, bursting our perfect bubble. I exchange a look with her, then slide out and quickly kiss her shoulder. “Be right back, baby.” I drag myself away from her and into the kitchen, then pick up the phone. “Hello?”
“Aaron?” Logan’s voice is tight, urgent. “Where the fuck is your phone? I’ve called you seven times.”
“I—” A chill runs down my spine. My phone is in the pocket of my jeans, discarded somewhere on the living room floor. “What’s wrong?”
“You need to get to the hospital right now. It’s Mom.”