“You wanna start over?” She breathlessly asks.
I lean in and suck on her lobe while still not touching her with anything other than my lips on her ear. She shivers and a moan escapes her. Her back arches and her chest brushes against mine. My voice is gravelly as I say, “As many times as it takes. But I’m really hoping this is the last time we do this dance and that it ends with you on top of the counter again.”
Her breath hitches but she doesn’t move. She doesn’t dip under my arm and race anywhere but here. Reaching out, I grab a bowl of buttercream frosting off the counter, and dip one finger into it. Scooping some of the deliciousness I made first thing this morning out, I purposefully drag it across her bottom lip. “Still have a sweet tooth, Roxy West?”
Roxy West. That’s your name. You have my name, wife of mine.
She glares at me, but her pupils dilate. Then, she slowly licks her lips. “Still a cocky as fuck pain in my ass, Chase West?”
“I got your crazy ass to marry me after three weeks of knowing you. Cocky is my love language, baby.”
She smiles and my entire being reacts. When Roxy smiles at me like that, one of two things is about to happen.
One- She’s about to rock my damn world.
Or two- She’s about to try to kick me out of her life… again.
I step back just enough to breathe. She steps forward like we’re dancing. And just like that, we’re kissing.
No, not kissing. Clashing. Our mouths are fighting. Our teeth are hitting. Our tongues are desperate.
I easily lift her onto the counter. She wraps her legs around my waist. Gripping her thighs, I pull her hips into mine. She angles her head to deepen our kiss and claws at my hair, practically ripping it out by the roots.
Sliding my hands over her sides and her stomach, I cup her breasts through her top. She arches into them and her nipples peak harder under my palms. I slide one hand inside, fighting against the restrictive fabric determined to stop me. I succeed and flick my thumb over her nipple. She moans into my mouth, and then, she covers my trapped hand with hers and pulls her head back. Her eyes are wide and burning with passion as she says, “Let me.”
Uh, what? Come again?
Let you what?
I blink, trying to get my voice to work. “Let you what?” I question.
She slides off the counter with my hand still trapped. It pulls and I wince, but I forget all about it as she shoves me against the cabinets and drops to her knees.
She tugs at my waistband and my cock slaps her in the face. She chuckles, “Excited much?” But she takes me into her mouth. I get lightheaded as I look down at her, her lips parted around my cock as she moves her head, sliding me out to the tip before engulfing me until I hit the back of her throat. She’s blowing me and I’m fisting her hair and guiding her head while I fuck her mouth. She continues to work me over, moaning and really working over my cock. It’s so good that my knees are quaking.
The kitchen door opens. I see it but Roxy doesn’t hear it.
Miguel walks in holding a yoga mat under his armpit and a container of chia pudding in his hand. He sees us as he’s about to take a bite and he drops everything to the floor.
“Oh shit. I’m sorry. Oh no.”
Roxy turns her head, releasing me so quickly that her teeth scrape along my shaft.
Yowling as the pain threatens to take me to my knees, I grab my crotch and check for damage. I’m bleeding.
Miguel is just staring at us both. Finally, he shakes his head and starts backing out of the kitchen like he just walked into a live porn taping with his parents.
“I’m so sorry. I’ll be back to, er, clean the mess, once your dick is back in your pants or whatever. I hope she didn’t skin you. My bad,” he yells as the door solidly closes.
Roxy jumps to her feet. We both stand there, breathing hard, staring at the door Miguel just disappeared through. Still ruined and my dick is still throbbing… from my injury.
Roxy groans and leans back against the fridge. She winces as she sees me cradling my wounded appendage. “Is it bad? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to use my teeth.” She growls. “I swear, if I ever speak to that man again, it’ll be at his funeral.”
Adjusting myself with a hiss, I groan again, “Yeah, I’m gonna need like twelve hours and an ice pack.”
She exhales, then, she wickedly grins and says, “I’ll give you six.”
ROXY
