Page 92 of Eye Candy

My sweet Mr. Moral would need to hear that again and again, and not just during sex.

Good thing I would never get sick of saying it. I would reiterate my feelings after we’d finished so he didn’t think he’d sextorted it out of me. I meant every word.

Together, we rolled and he settled me astride him. His eyes followed his hands down my thighs and grabbed hold as I ground my pelvis into his, rolling his cock deeper into me. I slid my hips as leisurely as I dared, groaning when the motion drove him deeper still. I was wet and sensitive from my earlier orgasm, and it wasn’t long until I was shaking again.

Chase locked my hips in his hands. “Hold on.”

He raised me infinitesimally off him and punched his hips, the pace and delicious depth pounding sounds out of my mouth that I didn’t know I was capable of.

The morality blogger bounced me up and down his cock until the edges of my vision blurred. I had just enough time to thinkfuck like a puritan, hah!And I was orgasming again.

With a grunt and a few more thrusts, Chase emptied himself into the condom inside me.

I collapsed over his torso, limp, and he dragged a hand over his sweaty forehead and said, “fuck,” in an awed voice.

After catching my breath, I carefully separated us and checked the condom before tossing it and heading to the bathroom. Back in bed, I waited until the lazy strokes of his fingertips on my back began to feel more purposeful than automatic.

“I love you, Chase Sanford,” I said clearly. “You are a kind, passionate, magnificent man. I’m not going anywhere.”

He kissed the mussed and probably very sweaty strands of my hair. “I love you too, Caroline. Floss. Summer. I’ve loved you in every incarnation.”

Strong arms pulled me close, and we fell into the night together.

Chase woke me early in the morning and thoroughly destroyed my theory that being awake before the sun was no fun.

I was happier than I could ever remember being, and proud of myself too. Everything was coming together.

Because I wasthat bitch.

EPILOGUE

NINE MONTHS LATER

CHASE

“Do you have the link?”

“I thought you were finding the link, I have Pickles.” I held up our rabbit and the carrot he was gnawing his way through.

“Rita Hayworth’s hair,” Caroline cursed. “I’m sorry, I was distracted.”

With a grin, I tucked Pickles back under my arm. “Distracted by…?”

Floss turned pinker than her hair and I grinned. This morning she’d had new costume pieces delivered to our Chelsea apartment and spent a few hours modeling the strappy panties for me.Justthe panties.

There was no better way to spend a Sunday morning.

Eventually, Caroline found the link, but not before teasing me about what she called my Capricorn obsession with punctuality. We settled on the sofa with her laptop to join our regularly scheduled Holli-ford family call.

Pickles twitched a long ear as the abrupt sound of many voices in mid-conversation burst through the laptop.

“Hi, Mom!” I said loudly.

“Hey, Dad!” Caroline waved. “Mike!”

Two men in one frame, both wearing plaid shirts, waved back at her. Caroline looked nothing like her dad, Kevin, or her brother, but they looked a lot like each other, not including Mike’s mustache, which was a recent addition. Their other main difference was Kevin didn’t hate my guts or call me Silver Spoon.

“How’s the blog going, Spoons?”

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