by L. B. Dunbar
“Lily?” I question, keeping my tone low while my excitement rises. “You okay?”
She rolls to face me and then quickly turns away. She tugs the pillow closer to her chest and her leg hitches upward, her knee lifting to cover the edge of the pillow. The cupcake at her hip is on full display, and I swallow the moisture behind my teeth. I step forward and stare down at her perfect form. Her eyes remain closed, but her knee shifts, dragging higher on the pillow.
“Lily pad,” My voice remains quiet as if I might disturb her. Instead, I reach for her ankle as I want her attention. We need to talk. Her skin is warm, still damp from the shower and mixing with the heat of the night. The French doors are open, and a salty breeze enters. Lightning crackles somewhere out over the ocean.
She hasn’t kicked off my touch, so I risk moving my hand up the back of her calf. Her leg stiffens a moment before she relaxes. My eyes jump up to find her still not looking at me, but she’s letting me explore. I stretch forward, pressing gently at the firm muscle under my palm, and Lily purrs. Traveling higher, I cover the back of her knee and kneel on the edge of the bed. I whisper her name, and she moans quietly in response. My hand crawls higher, kneading the back of her thigh. Getting a closer look, I see the lace falls between the seam of her ass cheeks and cuts high over her hip. A piece of it brushes over the tip of her cupcake tattoo—which is a maraschino cherry.
“Lily,” I groan, allowing my hand to cover the firmness of one ass cheek. My eyes don’t leave the cherry as I squeeze. Her hips roll, and I lower my head. A sweet sexy scent captures my nose.
“Sugar, were you touching yourself?” My head shoots up, anticipating I’ve walked in on her getting herself off. Somehow the thought excites me, and as if I couldn’t get any harder, my dick jolts.
“No,” she whispers, her head shaking slightly for emphasis.
“Were you waiting for me?” I tease. She doesn’t answer, but her lip curves. Fuck me. I straddle her one leg, then move my hand to her other ass cheek with a growl. “I want to take a bite out of that cupcake.”
Her hips flex against the pillow, and I can’t hold back. My lips lower to suck at the inked skin, lapping at it as though I can literally taste the pink icing—sugary sweet just as I imagine her pussy tasting. With the thought, I take a sharp nip of the purple wrapper. Then I drag the tip of my tongue up the center of the design, stopping at the bright cherry to suck harder on the red skin, drawing it between my lips. I nibble as if I could take an actual bite and then swirl my tongue around the shape.
“So delicious, Lily. Sweet like sugar, just like I thought you’d be. I wonder how the rest of you tastes.” The comment elicits a deep purr as Lily hugs the pillow to her. I push up the back of her cami and return my mouth to her skin. Nipping. Sucking. Licking. I draw designs with my tongue along her spine.
“I always loved this dip.” I pull back to run a finger over the tiny valley of her lower back. Then I flatten my hand to press the remaining material upward. “Lift,” I command, and Lily does as I say, pressing up enough to allow me to raise the cami over her head. She lies back down on her side after tossing the shirt off the bed. The curve of her breast is exposed as her arm returns to the coveted pillow. Her knee remains raised, and I like her position. I kneel up to rub two hands down her back, returning to cup both the globes of her ass. I push them apart as I massage, then drag a finger under the lace that falls between them.
“Anyone been here?” I ask, holding my breath for her answer.
“No,” she whispers in the same tone as my previous question. A smile creases my lips, and I continue my exploration of her, moving to another place of pleasure. She’s wet and ready, and I slip a finger inside her easily. The angle is different, and her ass lifts a little to allow me deeper. I quickly add a second finger and watch as I slide in and out of her heat.
“You’ve been waiting for me, haven’t you?” I tease.
“Yes,” she whimpers, and I remember the unsatisfactory position I left her in earlier.
“I promise not to leave you hanging like that ever again, Lily pad.” I take the oath seriously. I will not leave her wanting for anything from me ever again. “Feels so good, sugar.”
Her hips rock back, sucking me in as she had earlier but with the new position and easier access, the pace quickens. She’s clenching around my fingers, drawing me into her and taking what she needs. Her knee presses upward as she pushes back. Her back curls and holds as she falls apart around my fingers.
“That’s it, baby.” I don’t remove my fingers as I kiss up her back. She squirms under the attention of my lips and the fullness of my fingers. “You want more, sugar?”
Her head nods, her cheek rustling the pillow under it. I remove my soaked fingers, lowering to slip my dick between the seam of her fine globes. She reacts to my thrust and presses back at me. The cotton of my shorts and the thinness of her lace doesn’t distract anything between us.
“No more barriers, Lily pad,” I warn as I rock forward, and she rolls back to counter me. Our bodies dance a moment, the movements sultry and seductive. When I can’t take it anymore, I push at the waist of my shorts, lowering them to my knees before crawling out of them. My dick is hot, hard, and ready, and when I place it between her ass, she squeezes.
“Brut,” she hesitates.
“This is our first time, Lily pad. I won’t be going anywhere you aren’t ready.” I’m not interested in that adventure tonight either. I want inside her conventionally even if our position isn’t missionary. “But I’m going in, Lily. I’m going in so deep.” I hook a finger through her lacy undies and tug until they spring free. She pushes the pillow from her chest, but her knee remains positioned near her waist, keeping herself open to me. I hold myself, dragging the throbbing tip between her wetness, coating my hot skin with her coolness.
“No barriers, Lil. I don’t have a condom, but I can go get one in the other room if you’d like. It’s been six months since I’ve been with someone.” I rush the last words because I hate bringing up these things. “But I’ve never been with the woman of my dreams, the woman I wanted to be with most.”
“No barriers,” she mutters, pushing back at me. Although I should ask, I don’t bother with the pill or any precautions on her end. It would be the responsible thing, but as she sucks my tip into her, pressing back to swallow me inside her channel, I lose all senses other than the fact I’m inside her.
“Fucking finally,” I groan, pressing to the hilt, disappearing into her as far as I can, and then I pause. Drinking in the moment, the warmth of her wrapped around me, raw and bare and everything, I bite her shoulder tenderly, then suck at the skin to soothe the sting.
“Again,” she whispers, and I repeat the motion on her other shoulder. Then I’m pulling out of her and her hand reaches back to my hip, tugging at me to reenter. And I do. I fill her while my teeth nip and my lips soothe until I can’t keep up the multiple attention. My focus all goes to the pleasure of sliding in and out of her. Deep. Wet. Willing. My position matches hers as I rest on one elbow. One leg extended between hers; the other bent at the knee behind hers. My hand cups her breast as my chest presses to her back. Her spread angle allows me to delve deep, and I blanket her as I plunge forward, increasing the pace.
“So fucking good, sugar,” I groan against her skin, growing wild and needy. I’m so close, all the blood rushing to one place. “So deep.”
I want to live inside her. I want to do this every day of my life. I want to never separate from her again. And my body says all those things as I plunge within her, setting a steady beat until I feel her squeeze.
“Lily pad?” I question but know the answer. She’s coming undone—on me, around me, over me—and I implode. Shooting off, I don’t let one drop escape as I jet forward, holding a hand at her hip to steady her while I release like I never have before and know I never will again. Only with her. I’m in my place. I’m where I always should have been. Inside only Lily.
13
Lily
As I sit on the couch the next morning, I stare out the sliding back door at the gray day. It’s raining—sheets of rain—and I sit in the quiet peace of a gloomy day. Both my hands cup my mug of tea, and I blow softly at the steam, waiting for it to cool before I take the first sip. My lips curl of their own accord as I remember last night. Brut entering my room just before I was ready to touch myself. He’d wound me up all day—first surfing, then while making cupcakes—and I needed a release like I’ve never needed anything before. I wasn’t typically a fan of doggy-style sex, but I’d take sex any way I could with Brut. I was ready to beg.
My smile grows as I realize I didn’t need to take such desperate measures. Brut took me willingly, and I loved every second of it. I always imagined sex with him would be heavenly, and he did not disappoint. Actually, he destroyed me for all other men. No man would stand a chance compared to how I felt after last night. Warm. Tingly. Pleased.
I sense his presence before he touches me. Hands cover my shoulders, and two thumbs dig deep up the back of my neck. My head lolls forward at the welcome touch. Brut’s fingers are amazing.
“You weren’t in bed.” It’s a question, and I feel the heat of his voice behind my ear. He’s kneeling behind the couch as he massages me.
“I couldn’t sleep.” It’s true. Not because of nightmares or worries, but more from waking next to Brut and wanting to repeat everything we’d done again. And again. And one more time. Last night, he pulled out of me and disappeared for a moment. My breath held that he’d leave me, but he returned to clean me off and then curled up behind me, looping his arm over my waist and snuggling into my back. He kissed my shoulder, keeping his lips on my skin as we drifted to sleep.
“I…” His pause stills his hands, and I close my eyes. I don’t want any regrets from last night, and I bite my lip, hoping he isn’t about to say such a thing. It was a mistake are words that would crush me. “I’d like to make a proposal.”
My heart shouldn’t skip a beat at the p-word, but it does. I lift my head and twist at the neck but can’t see him directly behind me. His hesitation concerns me.
“We’re both here on vacation, right? Taking a break from life, and I don’t want any regrets, so I’d like to suggest we live in the moment.” He exhales. “No talk of the past. No concerns for the future. Just right now. Let’s take the time for what it is.”
My lips twist, and I bite the corner, holding back a giant whoopee! for what I think this means, but I still need clarification. “And what is it?”
“I don’t know, but I’m happy to explore.” Before I can speak, his voice lowers. “For the rest of the week, forget everything else.”
I know what he means, who he means. I hesitate for only a moment, uncertain if it’s possible despite my forgiveness. The old wound went deep. We were so young, I remind myself. It was a long time ago, I counter offer. Can we rekindle what we had? Do we even need to? Sort of friends with benefits on vacation? One week to just pretend? My silence triggers him to clear his throat, signaling a redirection in the conversation.
“Did you enjoy last night?” For a confident man, it seems like a strange question to ask. As if he’s worried he might not please me when he’s been the man of my dreams for years.
“Very much.” I swallow back the bubbling giggle threatening to burst like some schoolgirl, but I feel giddy.
“So let’s do this? Let’s just be for the rest of the week.”
The rest of the week with Brut all mine? “Okay,” I reply sheepishly. The acceptance chokes out because I’m not sure what exactly I’m agreeing to, but as long as it involves a repeat of last night, I’ll do anything he asks. To my surprise, Brut releases me and hops over the back of the couch. His white hair is rumbled from sleep, and my fingers twitch to comb through the spiked tendrils. He removes the mug from my hands and places it on a tray on the extra-large ottoman. Then he cups my face as he straddles my legs, careful not to place all his weight on me.
“You agree?” His face glows with excitement, but his eyes seem wary.
“Yes.” A smile breaks free, and his eyes soften.
“First rule, then. No sneaking out of bed.” He doesn’t wait for my response before he kisses me—hard and firm—while he gently holds my face. My body melts under him, and if he greets me each morning like this, I’ll never leave the bed. He sucks at my lower lip before releasing me, and his bright eyes twinkle as he looks down at me. “Good morning.”
How is it possible to make those two words sound so sexy?
“Are you hungry?” he asks. “Breakfast is my specialty.”
I giggle. His morning cheer is too much. “I bet you say that to all the ladies.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, his eyes dull and his expression grows serious.
“No ladies, Lily pad. None.” There’s no way he’s been a monk for twenty-plus years, but his point is made with his sharp tone. “I’m a single father. Breakfast foods are fast and cheap.”
“Okay.” My grin proves I accept his statement. I nod to brush off my mistake in teasing him about other women.
“And another rule would be no 739 code. You are all mine for the rest of the week, and if you need 739-ing, you text me.”
Laughter erupts from me, and Brut gives me a second kiss to enforce his new declaration.
“I have a rule for today, too, then.” His head tilts as his hands remain on my cheeks. My fingers find the silky basketball shorts he wore last night and tug on the material. “As it’s supposed to rain all day, I propose we have a pajama day.”
“Pajama day.” His lips breaking into a grin. “What’s that?”
“You’re kidding, right? You’re a dad. You have to know it’s a day when you stay in your pajamas all day.”
“Oh,” he exaggerates. “Those are only on special days?” He winks to let me know he’s teasing, and I push at his chest. With his hands still on my cheeks, he doesn’t fall back but tugs at me and returns his lips to mine, dragging out another deep kiss. My fingers brush under the T-shirt he wears, needing to feel his skin. I roam upward over the patch of hair between his pecs. He pulls back too quickly and stares down at me. “First, we eat.”
I pout, and he chuckles at my expression as he stands. Then he holds out his hands for mine. Pulling me up from the couch, he watches as the light blanket covering my legs falls free to expose short shorts and a fresh cami. Brut blinks.
“Are these your pajamas?” His eyes scan down my body, and my nipples peak at the appraising look. I nod.
“Damn, I like this kind of day.” He swings out an arm and smacks my backside when I pass him. The crack on my skin hits right where my ass meets the back of my thigh. The echo of the slap and the sting stop me, and my lower belly flutters to life. I shouldn’t have liked his teasing spank, but I did.
“Fuck,” Brut groans as he moves behind me, wrapping arms around my waist and pressing his lips to my neck. “Waffles first,” he growls in teasing warning, and I wonder if he’s worked up like me. When I push back with my backside, the stiff length I encounter answers me. “Be good, Lily pad.”
“Was I good last night?” I flirt, and he groans at my ear.
“Too good.” My body heats all over, and I don’t care about food. I only want Brut, but he guides us forward, walking at an odd angle as his feet straddle mine. He keeps his arms around my waist until we reach the kitchen island a few feet behind the couch.
“Sit,” he commands, and I want him to enforce his demand with another smack to my ass, but if he touches me again, we won’t get to breakfast. I sit, and Brut rounds the island. He looks good in the kitchen, removing eggs from the fridge and taking flour from the cabinet. “I owe you some groceries.”
“Brut,” I warn and stop when his returning glare warns me not to say anything.
“So tell me about your breakfast skills, oh master of the waffle iron,” I joke, and Brut commences with stories of teaching Chopper about meas
urements through cooking. I’m listening to him speak, but I’m also envisioning this hot man coaching his young son. The image does all kinds of funny things to my insides. I always wanted children, but it didn’t seem to be in the cards. I could have adopted on my own, but then the bakery happened, and it became my baby instead. It doesn’t mean I don’t look at young mothers without longing, though. Or single fathers, for that matter.
Brut serves me the first batch, which is more food than I can possibly eat. He asks me to explain where I learned to bake, and it’s suddenly my turn to speak despite the breakfast before me.
“The neighbor.” The truth is a reminder that it wasn’t some sweet granny or my mother like people want to believe, but the neighbor lady who took care of Lauren and me after school. She made all kinds of baked goods, but the first time we made cupcakes, I was hooked. Brut holds my gaze. He knows my family situation wasn’t the greatest when I was younger, and he nods, chewing at his lip. My family situation now is nonexistent.
“What were you making last night?”
My face heats at the memory of two firemen walking in on us. “I was experimenting with a fall recipe.”
“It smelled delicious. Like vanilla and cinnamon and something sweet.”
“Apples,” I explain. “Apple cupcakes.”
Brut moans as if he can taste the treat, and I speak without thinking. “You’ll need to visit the bakery in September when it’s the house specialty.” We just promised no future plans, and Brut looks over the island at me, his eyes growing a deeper blue.
“I’d like that, Lily pad. I’d like that a lot.” Me too, I breathe. Living only in the week is going to be harder than I thought.
