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He leans down, takes my lips, and my heart races as he pushes his cock against me. He grinds it against my belly and pushes his tongue farther into my mouth.
I moan softly.
Mine.
He breaks the kiss and lifts me, carries me to the bed.
“Brendan…”
“No more talking,” he says. “Nothing but me inside you.”
Already I’m wet. Brendan undresses me in what seems like a flash, and he slides his hand beneath my panties.
“God, so slick, baby. So wet and ready.”
He nearly rips my panties from me, and an instant later, he’s undressed, on top of me, our gazes fiery with the heat that’s between us.
This is where I belong. Where Brendan belongs. He thrusts inside me, his huge cock burning through me.
“Brendan,” I moan. “Mine. All mine.”
“Mine,” he groans as he pushes into me again and again. “Always mine.”
Brendan doesn’t last long. Within seconds, he’s releasing into me, and I feel every contraction of his cock.
“Mine,” he growls again. “Mine.”
I didn’t come, and I don’t care. I got what I was after. Fullness. Completion. I close my eyes, reveling in the joy of our joining.
“Open your eyes, Ava.”
I obey Brendan’s command. His blue eyes are on fire. “What makes you think we’re done?”
I smile, my eyes heavy lidded.
“I’m going to give you an orgasm that’s going to blow your mind, baby. Then I’m going to give you another. Maybe a third and fourth.”
My breasts are sensitive, my nipples erect and yearning for his touch. I finger one, squeezing it, and Brendan lets out another groan.
I arch my back, and he gets the message. He sucks a nipple between his full lips. I inhale the woodsy fragrance of Brendan’s hair and undulate my hips. If only he could spend hours on my nipples…but I need him between my legs.
He moves to my other nipple and fingers the first, twisting it and tugging on it. Then he squeezes both my breasts, kisses down my abdomen, where he spreads my legs.
He inhales, groans, inhales again. “So beautiful, Ava. So pink and fleshy and beautiful.” He kisses my pussy, tugs on my labia. He swirls his tongue over my slit and tugs again at my lips.
I arch again, bending my legs toward me so Brendan can dive deeper into me.
Lust fills me.
Love fills me.
But my God, I need to come. I grab his head, tangle my fingers in his gorgeous long hair, and push him against my clit.
His eyes smile up at me, and when he slides two fingers inside me, I shatter.
“Yeah, baby.” He thrusts into me with his fingers. “That’s it. Come for me.”
I jump. I fly. I soar…and just when I think I can’t go any further, he clamps his firm lips around my clit, adds another finger to my pussy, and I rocket into another climax.
I fist the blanket as he torments me, drives me into orgasm after delicious orgasm until I’m limp.
Finally limp.
Finally spent.
Then his cock is in me, and he’s fucking me, and his lips come down on mine.
We kiss, our tongues tangling, and my clit and pussy are so sensitive, I feel the head of his cock sliding against every ridge inside me.
He breaks the kiss, his hair flowing around me like an auburn curtain.
“Mine, Ava,” he grits out. “Always mine.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Brendan
Monday morning, and Ava’s gone when I wake up. I’m surprised I didn’t hear her leave.
I take a quick shower in her bathroom and head down to the bakery, where I find her near the ovens, while Maya and Luke are handling the counter.
Her black apron is covered in flour, her beautiful pink hair pulled up in her hairnet. She’s adding a few dashes of salt to the dough that’s in the bowl of her Hobart mixer.
“Good morning,” I say softly.
She turns. “There you are. It’s nearly eleven.”
“I know. I slept really well. Very relaxed.”
She doesn’t reply.
“Did you sleep okay, Ava?”
She touches my cheek with her floury hand. “Can we talk later, Brendan? I need to focus.”
“Of course. But I’m working tonight. I don’t see how I can get out of it. I’ve already imposed on the Petersons and my dad more than I should.”
“I know. I understand.” She stops the mixer and pulls the blob of dough onto the counter. “We’re both married to our jobs, aren’t we?”
“When you own your own business, that’s kind of how it is.”
The truth of the matter is that Ava and I both love what we do. I love tending bar, and she loves baking. Neither of us wants to stop, but the hours certainly don’t mesh well with each other.
“Can you spare an hour for dinner?” she asks.
“I’ll have to let you know. I’ll see if I can get someone to cover the bar for an hour while I’m gone.”
“I close at six. The bar doesn’t get hopping until around eight or nine, right?”
