Page 14 of XOXO

“Fuck, baby, you are so sweet,” I growled, licking a trail from her sinful lips to her pretty, pink pussy.

“Are you wet for me, Del? Is my pussy hungry for my mouth?”

“Yes, fuck, yes, Sonny,” she said, panting.

My sexy good girl knew the rules, though. She leaned up on her elbows, her beautiful baby blues locked on me. That was just what I was waiting for. I rewarded her with a long, slow lick. Moaning as her flavors burst across my tastebuds, I made sure to touch and caress everywhere I could reach before sliding two of my fingers into her tight heat.

I couldn’t get enough of her. After she came once by my tongue, I slipped on a condom and had her coming again in seconds flat. Her pussy was made for me, squeezing me just right. I loved how her curves cradled my hardness. So fucking soft and perfect. She was like a sensory feast, and I was starving for her.

“Ohmygawd,” she whimpered after who knew how many orgasms. “I think you broke my pussy.”

I laughed out loud, tucking her into my side as I tried to catch my breath. Then I gently pushed her back, hovering over her deliciously flushed body, and kissed her deep and hard.

“I better kiss it, and make it better, then,” I said, and I did.

Over. And over again. Eventually we slept, and it was the first proper sleep I had in who knew how long. Waking up to Delani was better than I imagined, and after we showered—together, which took a lot longer than my usual showers, not that I regretted a single second—I drove her to her place to get some fresh clothes.

It was fast, way fast, but everything inside me knew Delani Whitman was important. While she was inside her bedroom changing, I walked back and forth over the cute teal and orange paisley throw rug. I’d been terse and abrupt at the start of our relationship. Downright pissy, if I were being honest.

But I understood why now. And I needed her to understand, too. Whatever she thought, this was more than just physical for me. An idea started to form in my brain, but it was too soon to voice it. I needed to think.

“Ready,” she called out.

I spun on my heel, damn near falling on my face when I saw the sexy little minx in baggy chef’s pants with little hearts all over them and a skintight, long-sleeved red shirt. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and she’d put on some powder and lip gloss.

Fuck, she was so pretty. As always, the mere sight of her had me shaking in my shoes. The woman was so damn sexy. Kind, sweet, generous, and smart as a whip. I grinned, pulling her to me so I could kiss that gloss right off her mouth.

“Mmm. We better stop now, Sonny, or I won’t let you leave,” she replied, smiling up at me with her lips and those beautiful blue eyes of hers.

“Okay, let’s stay.”

“No,” she said, laughing as if I was kidding. “We have work. Come on, sexy man, drive me back to my store before I have to deal with an angry chocolate hungry mob.”

“Can’t have that, baby. Come on,” I said, holding her hand as we left her place.

We headed in to work together, and I walked her to the chocolaterie, dropping her off with a long kiss that only whetted my appetite for her.

“Lunch at noon?” I asked, mentioning plans we’d already made.

“Yeah, sure,” she said.

Her cheeks were pink with pleasure and I fucking loved putting that look on her face. I waited for her to go inside, and she huffed a breath and rolled her eyes, but something told me she was pleased by my protective, slightly possessive side. That was good because I doubted that would change anytime soon. Maybe in twenty or thirty years.

Oh yeah, I was making plans for the future. The beautiful woman might not know it yet, but I had no intention of letting her go. Not now. Not ever.

The sound of her staff clapping and wolf whistling made me smile as I crossed the alley to the bar. Bear was already inside, getting ready for the day. He paused when I walked in, eyebrows disappearing somewhere in the bastard’s thick hairline.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re smiling,” he replied.

“So?”

“So I take it things went well with the curvy little chocolatier next door?”

“Don’t fucking talk about her curves,” I snapped, throwing a bar rag at him.

Fucker.

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