"Stop talking, woman." Letting go of her wrist, I bring my mouth down on hers in a furious kiss. I slide my hand to her back, holding her hard against me. Her tongue finds mine swiftly before she pulls back and looks at me.
"Stop telling me to stop talking," she says. "You can't just go around saying things like that."
She doesn't mean calling her woman. She means calling her mine.
My eyes locked on hers, I reach for the button on her jeans and she doesn't stop me. Her breasts rise as she breathes in, her lip pulling between her teeth again. That's her tell – the lip between the teeth. I unzip her jeans and slide my hand down the front of her panties – light blue cotton panties, nothing fancy, but hell if they aren't the sexiest thing I've ever seen in my life. When my fingertips make contact with her clit, she lets out a whine, her need for me more than apparent. "This is mine."
I declare it. I stake my goddamn claim on this girl's pussy. I've never made a declaration like that.
She lets out a laugh that immediately turns to a moan when I roll my fingers over her clit. Gripping my biceps, she gasps before she speaks. "You can't say it's yours."
"I touched it," I say. "I'm touching it now. Do I need to lick it to claim it as mine?"
"Oh my God." She breathes the words low in her throat.
My cock strains against the zipper of my jeans. Shit, I've never had a bigger case of blue balls in my life. I'm like the fucking world record holder for blue balls. "Is that a yes?"
Lily slides her palm over the front of my jeans. "I want to –"
"Sorry, cupcake."
She whimpers again. "Killian…"
"How long?" I ask, sliding my fingers from her because I want to pull off her clothes. She exhales heavily as an expression of disappointment flits across her face.
"How long what?" The look on her face tells me she knows exactly what I'm asking.
"How long has it been?" My hands find the sides of her jeans, pausing because I'm trying not to be a fucking animal and just tear her clothes off her, which is exactly what I want to do. My fingers pinch the fabric, my hands practically shaking because of my restraint.
"Three years," she whispers. Her gaze darts to the side as she avoids looking at me. "Three years ago, I had a one-night stand. It was … not very good. I haven't had a whole lot of… "
Her voice cracks, and I stand there unmoving as she meets my gaze again. "Tell me."
She inhales deeply, pausing for what seems like an eternity before she exhales heavily. "I haven't had a whole lot of sex, okay? That's embarrassing as hell. That one night stand and before that, my – " She pauses. "My husband."
My heart stops. "You're married."
"No. Oh God, no. I'm not. I was married. He's dead."
"Oh." I don't know what else to say.
"It was a long time ago. He wasn't a good man, as it turned out." She looks at me with an expression on her face that says the conversation about the dead husband is over. I recognize that look, because it's the same one I give my brothers when they start bombarding me with questions. Lily slides her hands down to my jeans and pulls me hard against her. "I don't want to talk about my dead husband right now."
"I don't want to talk at all." I tug on the sides of her jeans, pulling them down over her hips.
"Killian, I –"
"I'm not going to fuck you." I lean close to her and whisper the words in her ear, and she tilts her head to the side, letting out a soft moan. "But I am going to make you come again. I'm going to rip off these jeans and put my tongue between your legs and taste you. I'm going to have my fill of your sweet pussy and feel you come on my face. Then you're going to go home tonight and lie in bed and touch yourself while you replay it in your head."
She whimpers loudly this time as I drop to my knees, pulling her jeans down as I go. I yank the pants off of her, one leg and then the other, and she looks down at me with hooded eyes. "No more jeans," I growl as I toss them to the side. "Wear a skirt to work tomorrow."
"You're very… demanding," she murmurs, but that last word turns into a moan when I bring my face between her legs, inhaling her scent. She runs her hands over my head, and whimpers.
"You have no idea," I tell her as I run my fingertips over the front of her cotton panties. Her wetness is visible on the fabric, and the fact that she's soaked through her panties makes me want to pick her up, push her up against the wall right here in the kitchen, and plunge my cock inside her. "You're wet."
"I know," she whispers.
I push the fabric to the side, my fingertips lightly stroking her pussy lips. "Do you want my mouth on you?"
She exhales heavily. "Oh, God."
I bring my mouth close to her pussy so she can feel my breath. "Is that a yes?"
"Yes," she breathes.
God, I love hearing her say yes. I don't bother pulling her panties off; instead, I rip the corner of the fabric, first one side and then the other, and let them drop to the floor.
"You tore my panties," she whispers.
"I know. You should stop wearing panties, too."
18
Lily
He kisses the inside of my thigh, his beard brushing against my skin and sending a shiver up my spine. When he looks up from between my legs, his dark eyes practically smolder with lust. He's so close to my pussy that when he pauses to kiss the other side of my thigh, teasing me, the space between his lips and where I want him to be is agonizing.
His hands wander over my thighs and then he grips my ass cheeks, pulling me against him as he covers my pussy with his mouth. I let out a groan that sounds like an animal as the sensation– warm and wet, radiating heat through my body – nearly takes my breath away.
Then he groans, the sound sending little vibrations between my legs, and my knees almost buckle. It's been seven years since a man has had his tongue between my legs, and the feeling is so overpowering that I'm not sure if I can take it. His tongue circles over my clit, then lower, teasing me, taunting me. He sucks my clit into his mouth before releasing it, again and again until I'm letting out whimpering sounds that I can't seem to control.
"Your legs are shaking." His voice is low as he looks up at me, his hands firmly holding my thighs. I think that's the only thing keeping me from collapsing right now.
I nod. "All of me is shaking."
Killian makes a sound deep in his throat, a growl that I think means he wants me to be a quivering mess. He sits down on the floor and gestures to me. "Straddle my face," he orders.
"Come again?"
"Exactly." He chuckles as he lies back on the hardwood floor. "Get your little ass over here and kneel down. Now."
This man – this gruff, bearded, tattooed hulk of a man is telling me to kneel over his face. I hesitate for a moment, not because I don't want to feel his tongue on me of course I want to but because holy shit, no one has ever told me to kneel over their face before. I married young and my sex life was not adventurous, to say the least.
"You can't just lay down on the floor in the kitchen," I protest.
Killian snorts. "Do I look like I give a shit about the floor? Stop thinking."
"I. . . " I start. Why the hell do I feel so damn. . . shy when it comes to him?
He sits up, grabbing my ass cheeks and pulling me over his face, positioning me where he wants. "Stop thinking," he orders again. "You're going to put your pussy on my mouth right now and you're going to ride my fucking face until you come."
"Shit, Killian," I whisper. "Who says stuff like this?"
"A man who's hungry," he growls, pulling me roughly against him. I lean forward to brace myself on a nearby shelf as he covers my pussy with his mouth. If I thought his tongue was skillful before, it's nothing compared to what he does with it now. His tongue laps me, strokes me, and probes me as his hands grasp my ass cheeks, pulling me tighter onto his mouth.
His mouth. . .
I can't think about anything else except his mouth covering me. His beard is rough against my skin,
but it doesn't hurt; it only adds to the sensations that quickly begin to overwhelm me.
His hands roam my back before he slides one palm to my breast, kneading it, his thumb stroking my nipple. I hear him moan between my legs, and the intensity of his desire for me only makes me hotter.
Then there's no more inhibition, no more feeling self-conscious or wondering what the hell I'm doing kneeling over this man in the middle of my damn kitchen or what the hell kind of mother does this with a man she hardly knows. I lose myself in every flick of his tongue over my clit and inside me. Everything around me dissolves, lost in the sensation of his touch, his mouth, and the heat that surges through my body, pooling between my legs.
I can hear myself making moaning sounds no longer the little whimpering sounds I made before but full-on groans and I don't care. I'm too far gone to care anymore. The only thing I care about is my overpowering need, the fact that I'm so close to crashing over the edge. My hands braced on the shelf, I ride his face, my movements faster as I get closer.
His hands are on my ass cheeks, his fingers spreading me, and when he presses a finger against my asshole, I cry out. It sends me rocketing over the cliff, the intensity of my orgasm so overwhelming the relief of it so palpable that I think I scream. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over me, and even as I come, he doesn't stop licking me. He holds me against him while he fucks me with his tongue, and it makes me ache for his cock inside me.
I barely catch my breath, my pussy throbbing so hard that I want to collapse in a heap on the floor, but Killian's hands are there, lifting me away from him. His beard glistens with my wetness, and the look he gives me is total lust.
"I needed that." His voice is rough and ragged.
"You needed that?" I laugh, suddenly giddy and light.
"Damn straight." He sits up, sliding me down to his lap where his hardness is readily apparent. Hardness isn't the word for it his cock feels like a damn rod underneath his jeans.
I lean forward and kiss him softly on the lips, grinding my pussy against his cock, and he takes a handful of hair at the nape of my neck, holding my head close and kissing me hard. When his tongue finds mine, I can feel his cock twitch against me and heat rushes between my legs again.
Then he tears his lips from mine. "Opal will be wondering where you are."
"Probably not," I say wryly, thinking of Opal's interest in pushing the two of us together.
His hands on my waist, he lifts me up before I can object, then pulls me to my feet, smacking my ass lightly.
"Killian, I "
I want your cock inside me right now.
I don't say that. I can't imagine saying that. I have no trouble telling him off when I have clothes on, yet I can't seem to demand that he fuck me.
"I already told you," he says, his eyes on mine. "Not today."
He hands me my clothes, telling me with a wry smile that he's not sorry at all for ripping my panties. As I slip my t-shirt over my head, I'm fully aware of his eyes on me as he leans back against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest. His cock is still hard. That can't be normal. The guy must have crazy self-control. "You must have really wanted your job back," I tease.
"So you're hiring me again?"
"Not a chance."
A smile plays at the corners of his lips. "I wouldn't have expected anything else."
The vibration of my cell phone cuts through the space between us, and I reach around Killian to grab it off the counter. "It's Opal," I explain. "She's heading back here with Chloe. They're finished with their tea party."
I stand there silently and awkwardly for a minute, a million thoughts running through my head now that the headiness of my orgasm no longer distracts me.
What the hell am I doing with Killian? And what the hell was I just doing, kneeling on the hardwood floor in my kitchen over his face?
I can't believe I lost control like that. I don't throw caution to the wind. I'm not that person. Buying the bakery was the first time I ever did something even slightly crazy. It was the first time I jumped headlong into anything without thinking.
And suddenly I'm straddling the face of a guy who's clearly not the kind of person I should be involved with. That's not even jumping headlong into something; that's freefalling straight off a cliff.
The jingle of the bell on the front door jerks me out of my thoughts and I know it's Opal and Chloe. Killian winks at me before he turns around. "See you later, cupcake."
He's out the kitchen door without a moment's hesitation, and I follow him to the front.
"Mommy!" Chloe bounds into the bakery, trailed by Opal. "Mommy, we had a tea party and Miss Opal let me have soda!"
"Sparkling water," Opal corrects.
"And she put raspberries in the glass and it was a fancy glass and she let me wear her Easter hat with the feathers on it!"
"Leaving?" Opal asks Killian as he heads toward the door.
"I got what I came for," Killian says, his eyes meeting mine again before he leaves. Heat rushes to my face at his words.
Opal's gaze meets mine and she raises her eyebrows. "Don't even say anything," I advise.
"I didn't say a word, honey."
"I know what you're thinking." I narrow my eyes at her.
"What is she thinking?" Chloe pipes up.
"She's thinking… about how I should be making you pizza for dinner tonight."
Opal snorts. "That's exactly right, doll. Looks like your mother already got her slice."
19
Killian
Obviously the first thing I did when I got home yesterday was jerk off. And jerk off again. That woman has me wrapped around the axle. I could have fucked her yesterday right up against the wall, or sitting on the counter the way I fantasize when I have my hand wrapped around my cock.
But no, I had to get all sensitive to her feelings and shit. What the hell is wrong with me? Sensitive isn't anywhere in my vocabulary, yet this woman seems to stir up something in me that makes me want to do right by her.
I saw the hesitation in her eyes yesterday when it came to sex. Dead husband, a kid… I'm stepping right into a situation that's too damn complicated.
What I should do is back the fuck up. Sure, yesterday was fun – okay, it was more than just fun. Having her on my face was perfect.
I can still taste her on my lips.
I want more.
I want her riding me, her hair falling in my face, those blue-grey eyes trained on mine. I want her bent over, gripping her ass cheeks as she looks over her shoulder at me.
Hell, I just want her.
And that's why I'm sitting here at the bakery. That and the damned iced coffee she makes.
"Give me a hand with these customers, will you, sugar?" Opal asks in the way that only Opal can do, a polite request that's really an order.
I jump in to box up pastries while Opal makes casual chitchat with the customers in line.