Page 363 of The Winslow Brothers

Rachel

“Now, I’m ready for my dessert,” Ty says with a mischievous grin.

Before I even know what’s happening, Ty is off the stool and lowering me, back first, onto the metal prep table behind me, his hands at my ass.

My gasp is short-lived as he brings his lips to mine, licking a path to open them and then kissing me like anything but the character I’ve painted his face to look like.

I kiss at his lips at first, but then I make my way around his face, licking at the colored sugar paint I took out of the refrigerator supplies to erase my work. There’s something nearly frenzying about the mix of sugar and Ty, and I work my tongue along the line of his jaw like a woman starved.

Ty groans when I flick my tongue at his ear and makes short work of pulling my leggings off. It occurs to me briefly that I’m going to have to sanitize this tablereallywell when we’re done, but it’ll be worth it. Of that, I’m certain.

My rose-gold lace panties are next, and I catch only a glimpse of him tucking them into his pocket. “What happened to your concern for my underwear supply?” I tease.

“That only applies when they don’t look like these,” he answers too easily, making me laugh and then swallowing the sound in a kiss.

I’ve cleaned off most of his face, but a little icing is still lingering around the edges. I imagine I’m going to be finding it in places tonight that I never dreamed it would be.

“Oh, my sweet Rachel, I can’t wait to taste you.” Ty waggles his brows as he spreads my thighs and sinks to his knees on the hard, tile bakery floor.

A shiver runs through my entire body. Mostly due to the fact that we have to keep it pretty cold in here, just to keep the sugars pliable before they set. Evidently, the cold air is good for icing, but it’s a little bit of a shock on girlie bits.

“Cold?” Ty asks, in tune with my body enough to notice even without my saying it.

“Uh… Yeah.” I giggle through chattering teeth. “But I’m okay.”

“Don’t worry, I’m going to make you warm soon,” he promises, closing his oh-so warm mouth over the sensitive flesh between my legs. The sensation of his tongue and the illicitness of what we’re doing is unbelievably hot. So hot, I’m not thinking at all about the temperature of the room anymore.

The ceiling lights shine down on Ty’s brown hair, and I reach out to grab a handful as he slowly runs his tongue against me. It’s a tease and a pleasure, and I can’t decide if I want him to get on with it right now or do this forever.

Luckily, he chooses for me, and I lose the ability to think altogether. His tongue is like magic, thrusting inside softly butfirmly and then circling my clit with just the right amount of pressure. He’s an expert with his mouth, that’s for sure, and if I could magnanimously thank all the women who came before me who got him here, I’d do it.

I’ve never been one to get worked up about other people’s past lovers. I’d be a hypocrite if I did. And while I’m sure he’s responsible for some raw talent, this kind of precision could have come only at the instruction of a woman.

He flicks his tongue against my clit and slides a finger inside me. The combination is so perfect that my back arches and my breasts push up into the air.

I moan, and my body is at war between wanting to come like this or wanting to come with him inside me. Eventually, though, I know there’s only one way that will leave me completely satisfied.

“Ty,”I whimper and gently tug at the hair on his head. His head comes up in question, a shine on his lips that isn’t a mystery. “I want you inside me,” I admit freely, opening my legs wider and prompting him to step in between them. He leans down over me to put a kiss on my lips, and I taste the lingering evidence of myself on him. A heady mix of sex and sugar and us.

He keeps up his sweet assault on my mouth as he works at his zipper between us, and then he enters me with one smooth, clean stroke. It’s not rough—it’s precise and efficient. I gasp at the feeling of fullness, and he smiles against my lips. “You feel so good, Rach. Every fucking time.”

I moan again, since that’s the only reciprocation of the sentiment I’m currently capable of, and wrap my arms around his shoulders. For some reason, tonight, I want him close. I wantto see his eyes while he moves inside me, see the way his neck crooks when he comes.

I don’t need anything extra or fancy—I just need a front-row seat to him.

He sinks his head into my throat while his hips do all the work, and I hold on tight for dear life. The table shakes beneath us, and I’m hoping on a wing and prayer that it holds its ground through the onslaught.

Ragged breaths mingling, Ty thrusts and swirls his hips at the end and then repeats it over and over again. My skin is on fire now, the cold officially gone, and I can feel the tension of my pending orgasm all the way into the tips of my toes.

“God, Rachel.” Ty finds my lips again, running his tongue along the surface with a reverence I’m not expecting. It’s slow and poignant and feels like itmeanssomething. I just can’t put my finger on what.

But my orgasm can’t wait any longer, no matter how hard I try. Pleasure and hypersensitivity crash over me, tumbling me to the bottom of the ocean floor and repeatedly coming back for more. I’m caught in a tide, washing away anything and everything I’ve ever known other than this moment, for what feels like an eternity. I can’t blink, can’t speak—I can barely hear anything other than the roar of overwhelming fogginess in my ears.

This is, without a doubt, the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever had in my life—and with the way Ty and I have been for the last week, that’s saying something.

It’s so good, it hurts—and not just where it should.

My chest aches too, an overpowering feeling of somethingmorenagging at my heart. Ty Winslow is so many more things than I knew.

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