Page 20 of Penny For Your Thoughts
A familiar, deep, rumbling voice announced, “If that cake touches your fucking lips, we are gonna have a serious problem.”
I froze, fingers inches from my mouth as I glanced at my boyfriend. His bulk took up the entire doorway, and to anyone else, he might have looked menacing and ready to go to war, but not to me.
I registered the tiny glint of humor in his storm-cloud eyes and smugly ate the morsel of cake without blinking, ensuring I licked my fingers as provocatively as possible, while humming with pleasure.
“Ohh, you didn’t.”
“Ohh, I did,” I said with my mouthful, a mischievous grin on my face. “And it was yummy.”
Diem didn’t break eye contact as he unclipped Echo’s leash, letting her roam free in the office. He turned the lock on the records room door and lowered the dusty shade over the window that looked out into the hallway.
Oh shit.
Knowing I was in for it, I plucked another piece of moist cake from the container, as fast as a bunny.
Diem arched a warning brow. “You wouldn’t dare.”
I shoved it into my mouth, crumbs sprinkling my shirt. Haphazardly cleaning the icing from my fingers, I scrambled for another piece as Diem stalked across the room, his long legs covering the distance in a few short strides.
I recklessly stuffed a third bite into my mouth, but before I could lick the icing off my fingers, Diem caught my wrist with a growl. “Youfucking brat.”
Smirking, I wiggled cream-cheese-coated digits in his face. “Come on, Guns. This is the best part. Don’t deny me my due. You were late. I text-warned you. You forfeited the cake fair and square, buster. It’s mine.”
The bear in Diem’s chest rattled his ribcage as he brought my icing-coated fingers to his mouth and proceeded to suck them clean with a force that would have made Dyson proud. Then, he used his tongue to get the crevices in between, and I almost stroked out as an explosive pulse of pleasure rippled from my fingers in a direct line to my dick.
“Ohh, fuck that’s hot. Insta-hard-on. Christ, I’m going to come in my pants. No word of a lie. Do it again.”
Laughter from Diem was a treasured, rare commodity. When it happened, I preened, gloated, and silently cheered. He didn’t laugh often, and he didn’t laugh now, but the heat and humor blazing from his grey eyes was a powerful concoction in and of itself. It was sexy and seductive.
Diem released my wrist. Using his pointer finger, middle finger, and thumb like an excavator, he helped himself to a massive chunk of cake.
I gasped at the unfairness, but instead of eating it, he held it clumsily to my lips. More crumbs rained down over my dress shirt. A blob of icing dripped. I would be sorry later when I found grease stains on the fabric, but those worries were a distant concern.
“Aren’t you going to try it?” I aimed for innocence, not quite hitting the mark. “It’s your piece, after all.”
Diem didn’t respond, but his penetrating gaze held me hostage. It commanded every sense. Every nerve. It gave an order without giving an order.
I accept the cake offering, eating the morsel from his fingers. Before I could lick the remaining icing, giving him a seductive education in finger-sucking, he descended, kissing me instead.
Diem fused his lips with mine, chasing the cake with his tongue. I nearly choked with surprise and swallowed the helping too fast, but Diem didn’t stop. He lapped at the inside of my mouth, wrapping his tongue with mine, and grazing the edges of my teeth. His scruff bit at my jaw, but I didn’t care.
Cake and Diem.
Heaven.
The heel of his palm connected with the rigid length of my erection as it swelled against the front of my trousers, and I gasped and groaned, pushing back against him.
“Oh, fuck yeah,” I said against his mouth. “Cake porn.”
He chuckled, stroking and squeezing my cock as he licked and sucked my tongue. I wasn’t sure if it was the sugar rush or the increased blood flowing south that made my skin sing and head buzz. Either way, I kissed him back with equal fervor, rutting against his hand.
At one point, he relieved me of the Tupperware—thankfully, I hadn’t dropped it—and set it aside.
With deft skill, he undid my belt, button, and zipper one-handed. He threaded his fingers through the hair at my nape with the other, keeping me against his mouth, delving deeper as though determined to suck every ounce of stolen dessert from within.
He found my bare cock and stroked. The position was uncomfortably awkward—my pants and underwear were in the way and pulled at my sensitive skin when he tried to move them down—but it didn’t dissuade him. When I whimpered with frustration, bucking and wiggling and trying for a new angle, Diem broke the kiss, bent, and took me down his throat instead.
I cried out as blinding pleasure exploded in my veins.
