“You are amazing.” I giggle, as we fall back against the bed. Dylan is still deeply rooted inside me and hard as a rock, ready for more. He lazily thrusts in and out of my channel while his fingers dance along my curves.
“Oh no, you’re the one that is amazing. If my cock wasn’t so cozy in your pussy, I would bury my face in that sweet honey pot of yours.” His warm lips trail down my neck, his beard tickling my skin. I’m going to have beard burn over every inch of me by the time the sun comes up. I fucking love it.
“We’re amazing together.” I roll Dylan on his back. Straddling his waist, I kiss a trail over his honed muscular chest. Every inch of him is sculpted perfection. I sit up, slowly rocking my hips. He feels so good inside me, I never want this feeling to end. “I could get use to this.”
“Use to what?” he groans, hands settling on my hips, working me harder along his length.
“To you, in my bed, fucking me, holding me, loving me.” My head falls back and our moans fill the small space. I want him in my bed every night. I want his arms around me when I fall asleep, and I want him between my legs when I wake up in the morning. Just as I plunge over the edge of ecstasy, I find myself falling even harder for him. In this beautiful moment, I realize I’m in love with Dylan Edwards.
“I love you, Zoe.” His words set me off. I chant, “I love you too,” over and over until I collapse on top of him.
The loud grumbling of my stomach wakes me from a dead sleep. Dylan was right, we did work off all of the calories from dinner. It’s two in the morning, and I am ravenous for something to eat. I carefully slip out of bed as to not wake up Dylan. After the marathon of love making we just had, he needs his rest because, the moment he wakes up, we are going for the world record of how many orgasms two people can have in twenty-four hours. The rumors about Dylan’s talents between the sheets are true, he’s a fucking sex god. In just a few hours with him I’m completely addicted.
I walk out to the living room and pick up his shirt from the floor and slip it on, buttoning up two of the tiny buttons. Bringing the collar up to my nose, I breathe in his scent. He smells like a pine forest after a spring rain. I step into the kitchen and head straight for the fridge. Pulling the door open, I pull out the box of tarts and the massive slice of chocolate cake. I set both boxes down on the counter then grab a fork from the drawer.
I pop open the lid on the cake and look down longingly at the rich chocolate frosting and the moist dark chocolate cake. This simple dessert reminds me a little of our relationship, sweet and decadent and oh so bad for you. It makes it all the sweeter now that he said he loves me. It’s crazy fast, but who fucking cares. We’ve spent the past three months getting to know each other, that’s long enough for me to know that the feelings I have for him are genuine.
Just as stab my fork into the cake, I feel a pair of arms slide around my waist and a warm set of lips on my neck.
“Can I get a bite of that?” Dylan asks.
I scoop up a bite of cake and feed it to him. He lets out a satisfied hum when the chocolate touches his tongue.
“What are you doing awake?” I ask.
“I rolled over and you were gone, had to find out where my girl went.” He takes the fork from my hand and cuts another bite from the cake and offers it to me. I let the fork slide into my mouth. The sweet chocolate explodes around my taste buds.
“I had to get something to eat. You successfully worked off my dinner.” I slyly grin, turning in his arms. I give him a once over and see that he is naked, and that ten-inch monster of his is already hard. I bet his cock would taste pretty damn good covered in chocolate.
“Told you we’d work off all those extra calories.” With a cocky grin sliding across his face, he reaches behind me and pushes the cake box out of the way then lifts me up on the counter. He opens the two buttons and slides my shirt off, tossing it to the floor. “When we are alone you will be naked. I don’t want anything coming between me and what’s mine.” His dark possessive words send a chill through my whole body. He pulls me closer to the edge of the marble counter, lining up his fat tip at my entrance then slowly pushes inside me.
He scoops up another bite of cake and feeds it to me while he slowly fucks me in my kitchen. I dip my finger into the luscious frosting and smear the cold concoction over each of my nipples. He’s feeding me a snack; he might as well get one too. Resting my hands back on the counter, I offer up my chocolate covered nipples to him. Like a magnet his head dips down, and his tongue lavishes my tits.
Dylan reaches his hand into the box and grabs a handful of cake. He brings it up to my mouth and I take a big bite. The frosting and bits of cake cover my lips. His mouth comes crashing down on mine, sucking and licking me clean. Dylan smears the rest of the cake down my chest and over my breasts.
“Hey, I’m supposed to be eating that off of you,” I pout. Dylan reaches back into the box and scoops up more cake then wipes it down his chest.
“There, now we can eat it off each other.” We both laugh. I wrap my hands around the back of his neck and pull him to my lips.
“I love you so damn much.”
“I love you too, honeybee.”
There is no guarantee as to what life will throw at us, but I know whatever it is, Dylan and I will be ready to take it head on. Our love may be new, but it is strong, and nothing will ever tear us apart.
About M. Andrews
M. Andrews resides in the suburbs of Seattle with her husband and two daughters. She is a self-proclaimed cupcake hound and coffee addict who loves to write sticky sweet erotic romance. M is the author of the Gambling on Love Series and the Sticky Sweet Series.
Website: mandrewsauthor.com
Facebook
Twitter
Instagram
Pinterest
Goodreads
Internally, Chase Adams was cursing up a shit storm. Externally, he remained calm, even pleasant as he repeatedly told the waitress who was ineffectually mopping up maple syrup from his thigh and moving in a direction that was getting dangerously close to his crotch, that really, he was fine. To please, just let it go. He’d clean it up himself.
The waitress didn’t seem to want to let it go. Whether it was because she genuinely felt guilty about being responsible for the sticky goo that covered most of his front side, or whether she just was looking for a cheap thrill, Chase wasn’t quite sure. Her smile told him she knew just how to show a man a good time, and probably had more than a time or two.
But she’d have to save that smile for another man, another day. The only thing on Chase’s mind at the moment was getting out of this impossibly small Tennessee town, and doing so, hopefully, in clean clothes. But at 6:30 am on a Sunday morning, Chase recognized the chances he’d find an open clothing store were slim to none.
Chase finally managed to push the waitress away, but not before shooting her an apologetic smile that was also a definite “no” to what she had unofficially offered.
He threw some money down on the diner table and strode out into the humid morning air, his right hand rubbing absently at his beard. The Ben Franklin down the street didn’t open until noon. Chase needed a change of clothes now, and according to the waitress, the nearest town that might offer stores that opened before lunch-time was at least an hour’s drive away. Still, Chase found himself walking down Main Street.
The place was like a ghost-town. Aside from in the diner, he had yet to see another car or person.
Chase sighed, and turned to head back to his truck, when a blast of hot air hit him. Turning his head to follow the heat, he saw the door of a dry-cleaners swinging open slightly. Strange, since there wasn’t a breeze, but a moving door meant an unlocked door, and maybe the dry cleaner would be able to help Chase out. How, he wasn’t quite sure, but he figured it was worth a chance.
Saturday “Daisy” Fontaine had never been a religious person. She’d often give a shout out to the big guy/girl upstairs, but she found the rules and restrictions of formal
ized religion far too constricting. However, Daisy also loved her Nana, which was why, with less than six hours until her deadline to submit her next travel blog on the awesomeness of the Great Smoky Mountains and the micro-towns nestled within their rolling peaks and valleys, Daisy had been kicking up dust along a deserted Appalachian highway in desperate need of a Catholic priest.
Her precious Nana had called Daisy to tell her that “it was her time,” and she had “gotten the call from the man in charge,” and her only wish at that moment was for Daisy to go to confession and be absolved of her sins. The connection had been spotty, and it had been hard to hear everything her Nana was saying, but Daisy caught the gist of the message before her cell coverage had cut out, and hadn’t come back. Daisy had considered telling her Nana she’d gone to confession without actually following through, but some amount of Catholic guilt was ingrained in her head, and she felt like she owed it to her Nana to really do it.
Frantic with worry for her Nana, and driven by the need to fulfill her wishes, Daisy had punched in “Catholic Church” into her GPS. She’d complied when the robotic yet soothing female voice urged her to exit the already questionable main highway. Which was why, when her tire had blown and Daisy discovered there was no spare, she remained stranded on the side of a dirt road with no rescue in sight. She knew her Nana would scold her for not checking the rental’s trunk before driving it off the lot. “Always make sure you have a spare,” was one of the life lessons her sweet grandmother had reiterated over the years.
But she’d ignored her Nana’s advice to check the spare, and with few other options available to her, Daisy did the only other thing she could think of: she looked both ways down the road, and started walking.
“Hello?”
Chase’s greeting as he walked into the dry cleaner’s was met with silence.
“Hello? Anyone here?” he called again.
Nothing.
Looking around, and even peeking in the back revealed an empty store. Bummed that he’d struck out, Chase moved to walk back out, when he noticed the bag swaying gently on the clothes rack.
The thought that popped into Chase’s mind was wrong. He knew it was wrong, but his maple syrup pants were too damn uncomfortable. Instead of walking out, taking his sticky pants with him, he found himself striding across the cracked linoleum floor towards the plastic garment bag. He ripped the top corner open. Chase glanced at the clothes ever so quickly, and noted a pair of black pants in his size. He registered there was also a black shirt. He didn’t look any closer, just grabbed the bag off the rack before he thought too closely about what he was doing and changed his mind. It might be the right thing to do to walk away empty-handed, but he was going to start chafing down there, and that would be a frigging nightmare.
Chase wasn’t completely beyond redemption, though. Before leaving he threw a hundred dollar bill down on the counter and made a promise to himself that he’d send the clothes back as soon as he could.
As soon as Chase was on the sidewalk, he ripped open the bag all the way to see his haul.
“God dammit all to hell!” he exclaimed as the plastic fell away to reveal the outfit inside.
The door clicked shut behind him.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”
Chase stared at the black clerical shirt and pants dangling from the wire hanger. The white collar tab flashed mockingly at Chase as the sun glanced off its shiny brightness.
A priest’s outfit? A goddamn priest’s outfit? Chase ran his hand over his chin, letting the rough scruff raze his palm. Was this some kind of a cosmic joke?
Chase thought about all the bad things he’d done in his life. The beds he’d snuck out of in the pre-dawn hours, the promises he’d made and failed to keep, the lies he’d told to protect himself. He wondered if someone, something, was trying to send him a message.
He tried the door again, but this time it was locked tight. Stuck with two undesirable options, Chase’s natural go-with-the-flow approach to life bubbled to the surface and he let out a bellowing laugh at the sheer hilarity of the situation. Shaking his head, he shucked off his soiled clothes, right there on the sidewalk. Let ‘em look, he thought to himself, if there’s even anyone alive in this town. They’ll get a good show.
No one was watching, at the moment, but if they had been, they definitely would have gotten a good show. It wasn’t bragging for Chase to think women would line up for the chance to glimpse his shirtless torso. Tall and muscular, Chase looked good, really good, both clothed and not. He kicked the dirty jeans and T-shirt into a pile on the ground, and stepped into the polyester blend pants and shirt. Even though he refrained from putting the white tab into the shirt, there was no denying he was dressed like a priest. He looked up at the sky for a moment, wondering if lightening was going to strike him down. When nothing happened, he gathered up his dirty pile and tossed it in the back seat of his truck.
Chase didn’t notice the white collar sticking to the syrup on his pants. Nor did he notice it detach itself and flutter down onto the floor of the front seat.
Chase started the engine and rolled out of town. It’s been real, he said silently, watching the town shrink out of sight in his rearview mirror.
While she walked, Daisy worried. She worried about her Nana, she worried about her blog, she worried about werewolves roaming the woods, she worried she’d find herself in the middle of the movie Deliverance.
While she walked, Daisy also checked her phone for a signal. Nothing.
Between walking and worrying and checking her phone, Daisy also let her mind wander, traveling to places that made her uncomfortable. She considered the fact that she’d been driving a while without passing any towns or houses, and that maybe walking wasn’t the best plan to follow. She also thought about Deliverance again, and Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and The Hills Have Eyes, and every other horror movie in which bad things happen to people who are stranded and alone in the middle of nowhere. Daisy concluded she should find a weapon. She might not have a spare tire in the truck, but surely there’d be one of those tire-iron things that you always saw people holding in movies—the ones with the sharp poky bit on one end?
Daisy returned to her car. After poking about in the trunk for a bit revealed nothing of real use for protection, Daisy did something completely out of character. She lifted her head up to the sky and prayed for help.
A moment later, she heard the faint rumble of a car engine in the distance.
Chase was surprised when he noticed the car stopped ahead in the breakdown lane of the narrow two-lane road. Tough luck. His first instinct was to keep on driving, let the unfortunate SOB fend for himself.
But then Chase noticed the legs. Unquestionably female, they were long and lean and stretched for miles before ending in faded denim shorts. They were attached to an equally impressive top half, with a narrow waist and tight, pert breasts highlighted in the black tank top she was wearing. Chase probably would have pulled over regardless of his instinct to keep going, even if the stranded traveler had been a fat, balding guy. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t appreciate that his potential passenger was a woman with a smoking hot body. He eased his foot off the accelerator and prepared to slow down.
As he got closer, he was able to see more details. Her light brown hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. Stray bits fell in soft curls around her face. Blurry facial features resolved themselves into the visage of an undeniably gorgeous woman with high cheekbones, luminous eyes, and a wide, generous mouth.
The only drawback was that currently the mouth was turned down in a scowl. Chase saw her squinting at the truck. He guessed she was trying to see who was driving and if he was safe or not, so he tried to mold his expression into one that looked harmless and kind. He ran his hand over his jaw, and reflected that his scruffy beard probably made him look like a backwoods derelict. Nothing he could do about that now, though. He’d just have to do or say whatever he could to ease any concerns she’d have
about his intentions.
He hadn’t seen a single other car while he’d been driving, and he’d been on the road for almost thirty minutes already. He’d bet his was the first car that had come by, and he knew she couldn’t turn down his offer of help. Besides, with the scowl and squinty eyes, she looked positively fearsome. Maybe he should be worried about his own safety instead of worrying about hers.
Daisy felt equal parts relieved and scared when she heard the engine noise approaching. Please, please don’t be a murderer. She gripped her cell phone tightly in one hand, and impulsively grabbed a medium sized rock off the ground in the other. She kept this hand behind her back. She figured if it was someone dangerous, she’d tell him she had the police on the line to scare him off, and if that didn’t work, she’d bash him in the head with the rock. She made a mental note to sign up for a self-defense class when she made if back to civilization.
A dust cloud preceded the vehicle, and she felt a pang of dismay at the hulking pick-up truck that finally rumbled into view. This was no benign Prius or safe-looking sedan that would be driven by a woman, or possibly a family with 2.5 kids and a dog in the back. This was a truck that screamed masculinity and testosterone. Daisy felt another tingle of anxiety. But then again, she tried to reassure herself, hadn’t she read somewhere that 98% of the people in the world are basically good, and with good intentions, and only a small minority have bad plans?
The truck was approaching and it was slowing as it got closer to her. Daisy squinted at the driver’s seat, trying to see who was behind the wheel, but the sun glared harshly off the windshield and she couldn’t make out any details. Just as the truck reached within about a hundred feet of her, Daisy heard her phone ding, letting her know she had a new text message. Which meant she also had a signal! A huge grin of relief spread across her face, and she looked down at her phone to see who was trying to reach her. It was Nana. The message read The Good Lord provides, followed by praying hands and a smiley emoji.
