Page 103 of Wicked Serve

That stops me in my tracks. “Wait, really?”

“What, you think I’d be wearing this in front of my brother?” She busies herself with the flowers, trimming the ends before putting them into the vase. “I didn’t think burning down the house sounded that romantic, so I got takeout from that Greek place you like. Also, I know you don’t really eat dessert, but the red velvet cupcakes in the bakery window looked too good to pass up.”

She sets the vase in the middle of the kitchen table. My heart does a funny hiccup at the sight of the candles and place settings. We discussed having a low-key Valentine’s Day, and all along, she had a plan.

“This looks so nice. Although you didn’t have to go to this trouble.”

“I wanted to be domestic with you,” she says, pecking my jaw. “What’s this?”

Domestic. It’s a nice thought. I lean against the kitchen island, watching as she opens the present. Like I expected, she gasps at the delicate gold star and moon earrings, but it’s the bag of M&M’s in all shades of pink that makes her face light up like a sunbeam.

She does a happy dance as she pops a few candies into her mouth. “You remembered!”

“The great pink M&M rant of last summer? How could I forget?”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “You like my rants.”

“I do,” I say, playing with the utterly tempting bow framing her cleavage. She’s not wearing a bra underneath, so if I untied it, I’d be greeted with the sight of her perfect tits. “Although I like everything about you.” I lean in, whispering in her ear, “You’re killing me, sunshine.”

Her breath catches, sending a zing of electricity through me. “We should eat dinner.”

I nip her earlobe. “Later.”

“Nik,” she chides, even as her fingers, tipped in a fresh pink manicure, curl in my shirt.

“It’s your fault for surprising me like this,” I say, tugging her in the direction of the living room. “I was expecting to sit through an Adam Sandler movie, of all things, and keep my hands off you in front of Cooper, and instead, you answer the door wearing the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, acting all innocent—”

“I’m not seeing the problem,” she interrupts, chin angled playfully. She squeaks when I drag her into a rough kiss. “You’re not the only one who can spoil someone.”

Her hairbrush rests on the end table. My mind spins in a new direction at the sight of it. I snag it, pulling her into my lap on the couch. The dress rides up as she settles her legs on either side of mine, giving me a glimpse of her panties.

Or rather—the fact she isn’t wearing any. I practically growl as I haul her closer, one hand tangling in her silky hair, the other digging into her perky ass. The mere sight of her had me aching, but now that her weight is on top of me, I’m starting to strain against my zipper.

“You want domestic?” My voice is low, measured. Part of me wants to flip us over and push right into her, but a greater part wants to tease her back. To lean into the fantasy she laid out the moment she lit those candles and pulled on those knee socks. I finger the ribbon over her breasts, loosening it. She arches her back, instinctively seeking more of my touch. “You want to play house, sunshine? Then I just came home from a game, and you’ve been waiting for me in that silly excuse of a dress, acting like an angel when we both know you’re my slut.”

I emphasize the last sentence with a rough rub of her clit. Her breath hitches, eyes wide, showing off that endless blue.

I hold up the hairbrush, letting the silent question hang in the air between us. I’ve spanked her plenty, but never with an object, just my hand. She nods, swiping her tongue over her bottom lip.

“Use your words.” I trace the bristled side of the hairbrush down her back, relishing the way she shivers. It feels like all the blood is rushing to my cock at once. “I think you want it to hurt before I kiss it better, but you gotta tell me.”

“Please,” she says, voice breaking on that single word. “Please, I need...”

“I know.” I kiss her so deeply, I can taste the chocolate on her tongue. I smile against her lips. “I know what you need.”

And it’s a need that fills something in me, too. A shared desire to mix a pinch of pain in with the pleasure. Nothing gets me hotter, but only when it’s her. Only ever her.

I give the dress ribbon one last pull, groaning when it unravels. She gasps as I massage her tits, pressing the small, soft handfuls together. I kiss a path from her mouth to her throat, her chest, then catch her hardened nipple between my teeth roughly enough, she cries out. Her nails dig into my thigh, making my cock jump in the confines of my pants.

“You want to take a break, or stop, you tell me,” I murmur.

“I know,” she says shakily. “I trust you.”

“Good girl.” I pull the dress over her head, tossing it onto the floor. I stare shamelessly at the sight of her. The curve of her breasts, the tattoo gleaming on her rib cage, the contrast between the knee socks and the smooth skin of her thighs... she’s a picture of goddamn perfection, and better yet, all mine.

I roll my sleeves to the elbow. “Put yourself over my lap.”

She does as she’s told, tossing me a cheeky look as she wriggles her bottom. There’s no fucking way she didn’t have a scene like this in mind when she got ready earlier; she’s already dripping, inner thighs shining with her arousal. As soon as her ass is nice and pink, I’m going to devour her.

---