Page 51 of Buried Dreams

“Brock,” I hiss, and I really wish we had our box of toys here, “we are going to have to get some toys.”

“Oh, I know, baby.” He slides another finger in me. “You want one in your ass or your pussy?”

“My ass,” I choose unabashedly.

He slides his finger out of my pussy, slapping my ass. The hand that was playing with my nipples moves down my back and into the crack of my ass before he slides a finger into my ass and two in my pussy. “Yes,” I cry out.

“You like this, baby?” he asks as he fucks both of my holes. “So fucking wet, it’s running down my wrist.”

“Only you.” I close my eyes, feeling like I’m going to self-combust. “Fuck, only you can make me feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin.”

He pulls out of my pussy, slapping my ass. “Don’t you ever fucking forget who owns this.” He leans down and bites my shoulder, and I look over at him. His mouth covers mine as he ravenously kisses me while fingerfucking my ass. I move into his finger as he slides two into my pussy. “You are a dirty, dirty girl.” He puts his forehead to mine. “After I make you come, you going to ride my cock?”

“Yes.” I would agree to anything right now. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Watch what you agree to,” he warns, the sound of the wetness from my pussy filling the room.

“I’ll do anything you want,” I repeat, closing my eyes and coming all over his fingers.

“Gushing down my fingers.” He fingers me faster. “That’s it, gush, baby.” I close my eyes, the orgasm ripping through me so hard and so strong I cry out.

By the time he’s done with me, I literally can’t walk. My pussy and my ass are both sore. “I think I’m addicted to your cock,” I finally confess after riding him.

I wake up at 2:00 a.m., and I know I have to leave soon, so I wake him up, sucking his cock. One thing leads to another, and I’m climbing onto him. Even knowing how sore I am, I can’t say no to it.

“I’m addicted to you,” he says, grabbing me around my waist and pulling my pussy to his mouth, sucking my clit. “Tonight, I want you to sit on my face, and then I’ll fuck your face.”

“Don’t tease me with a good time.” I get off the bed and walk toward the bathroom. “I need to hit the road and then take a shower.”

“I’ll drive you,” he offers, getting out of bed and following me, but I stop him.

“I can walk.” I slide my pants up my legs before grabbing my bra.

“Yeah, and you can get that sweet ass into my truck and I’ll take you home,” he instructs, getting dressed and covering his favorite part that I love.

He drives me home and makes out with me in the truck before I walk into the house. Tiptoeing in, it’s all for nothing when my mother is in the kitchen with a cup of coffee to her lips. “Someone had a good night,” she jokes with me, and I look over and see that Oliver’s shoes are by the couch.

“I wasn’t the only one.” I motion with my shoes.

“It’s different,” she deflects. “We live in the same town.”

“Mom.” I hold up my hand, not sure I want to hear it. “I know. I’m trying to live in the moment.”

“Don’t waste time like I did,” she urges softly. “I should have done this a long time ago.”

I nod, walking over to the kitchen, pinning my hair on top of my head, and then washing my hands. I make the donuts, and when I get to the bakery, Caleb is just getting there while the night shift is walking out.

“Want to see something cool?” he asks, and I nod at him. He motions with his head to follow him, and I walk with him into the bakery. “The walls are up and ready to paint,” he points out, and I look at him in shock. “Flooring goes in tomorrow.”

“Holy cow,” I reply, looking around at the bigger space. “This happened so fast.”

“I think by next weekend it should be done and you can start using the kitchen here,” he explains and a pang hits my chest. “So you can start painting by Friday.”

“That sounds amazing. I’ll call the painter.”

He nods at me. “The kitchen will be arriving sometime on Monday, and they should have it installed before Wednesday.”

“That’s just”—I turn around in the space—“so fast.”

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