Page 65 of Sunshine & Sinful

“Can we worry about that later, Sweets?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.” He kisses the top of my head. “So why don’t we get somethin’ in your belly.”

“I already have somethin’ in my belly,” I quip, and he chuckles and nudges my hip, then squeezes it as if asking me without words to, at the very least, sit up.

Pushing off his shoulder, I straddle his hips, and his spent cock settles between my pussy lips. The man doesn’t wait a second to cup my bare breasts, but he’s sweet about it, acting more like a makeshift bra than like a naughty man trying to cop a feel.

Choosing not to comment on the boob fondling, I ask, “What do you wanna eat?”

His brows bounce cheekily, and I slap him on the chest.

“Colton,” I gasp in mock outrage, even though I’m grinning like a loon.

“What?” He shrugs. “You asked. You’re the one who started it.”

“That’s fair,” I relent. “I did.”

“Your pussy needs a break, and my dick is still trying not to freak out after what just happened. That was intense. So why don’t we spend the night on the couch, watchin’ a movie, and we’ll water the plants before bed.”

“And?”

He hums, thinking. “We smudge the gifts from Penelope and the rest of the house?”

“Sounds perfect.” I nod in agreement and swoopdown for another quick kiss, which he returns as sweetly with three extra smooches and a firm pat to the ass.

Together, we pick up the discarded crystals and lay them on a greenhouse windowsill to recharge before rolling up our yoga mats. We feed the koi and gather Sunshine’s phone before heading back inside.

Not bothering to ask what I want for dinner because he knows what I like, Sunshine pulls two steaks from the freezer and two large potatoes from the bottom of the pantry. He thaws the meat and grills it on the back patio with his signature seasonings as I prepare the potatoes for our side and throw together a quick salad for a bit of roughage.

Rock music pumps through my portable speaker as we prepare our meal. Finally, with plates full, we sit at the island and enjoy our delicious dinner with a glass of red.

Our thighs touch to stay connected as I sip. “I love this wine.”

“I know.” He clinks his glass with mine and swallows the final dredges of his red. “That’s why I always keep the house supplied.”

I peek at him out of the corner of my eye. “You’re too good to me.”

He makes a noncommittal sound in his throat as if he doesn’t believe me. Either that, or I’m making him uncomfortable. It doesn’t make it any less true. The man listens when I talk, no matter how nonsensical the words are.

When I wanted an albino monstera plant, one arrived a week later. When I fell in love with this black, full-length, Gothic Victorian-styled mirror in a horror movie wewatched, he found a replica. It graces my living room wall and looks fantastic against my Gothic wallpaper.

Grateful for his thoughtfulness, my stomach churns in a giddy, girlish way as I reflect on his kindness throughout my life. Wanting to express how much that means without saying anything else that would make him uncomfortable, I lean over to kiss his bare shoulder and resume eating as if our little conversation never happened.

After dinner, we clean up together and return to the living room, where he places a fresh poultice against my pussy. We cuddle on the couch—me settled between his legs, my back to his front, his arms around me, watchingThe VVitch, a creepy horror movie I’ll never tire of rewatching.

Life couldn’t be any sweeter.

I’m a lucky woman.

SIXTEEN

Spreading Penelope’s basket of gifts on the table in the basement apartment for the sisters, I leave everything for them to pick through. I don’t want anything from that woman, no matter how expensive or nice some items are. As far as I’m concerned, the sisters can take what they want and toss the rest. Not that I think they will. The cost of the skin care alone could feed a family of five for a month.

Leaving the empty basket on a chair for whoever may want it, I wander into the kitchen for a treat. I am pleasantly surprised to find a plate of fresh chocolate chip muffins on the island. One of my favorites. Because I’m a chocolate whore, I lift the oversized yumminess to my nose and inhale deeply, like an addict getting her fix. My eyes slide closed with an indulgent sigh. I nibble the peak and moan as the richness bathes my tongue. Then, like a savage, I sink my teeth into the muffin and snatch a napkin from the counter so I don’tmake a mess before wandering into the living room, where I drop unceremoniously onto a couch.

“Boss Lady?” Cell calls out from her nerd corner.

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