Page 27 of Headed for Home

“Yes,” she murmurs and thrusts her chest at me.

I cup her breasts, gently sliding the metal through her pebbled peaks. “Fuck, beauty. You’re blowing my mind. I knew you were incredible, but this is…”

She trembles from my fondling. “Shock and awe?”

“To put it mildly,” I breathe.

“These are a gift from me to myself. After nursing twins for almost two years, I developed a strange relationship with my boobs. They didn’t feel like mine anymore, if that makes sense. I’d become a mother and a food source and lost my personal identity in the process. This”—her palms lift to cover mine playing with her pierced nipples—“helped me feel like a woman again. My most important and sacred role is being a mom, but I can also look at myself as sensual. Seductive. Desirable.”

At some point, I begin moving inside her again. Just a lazy rhythm to stoke the smoldering embers. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t be more attracted to you if we were magnets.”

Cassidy’s smile flirts with mine. “Such a line.”

“But true,” I vow.

“Show me,” she urges on a whimper.

And I do just that. There’s no hesitation as I buck upward to fulfill her request. Her back bows when I strike hard. One of my hands drifts along her spine, fingers tangling in her hair. She clutches my head to her breast and matches my strokes. I tongue her nipple, tugging lightly on the jewelry.

“I hope you weren’t planning on getting much sleep,” I murmur into her flesh.

She gasps when her clit rubs along my piercing. “Who could deny this?”

“Not you.”

“Not me. I’m choosing to indulge,” Cassidy confirms. Her grip on me tightens and she adds, “Just this once.”

Sunlight streaks in through the window to alert me that morning has arrived. With my eyes still shut, I smile into my pillow and stretch until the stiffness in my joints recedes. There are more tender spots than usual, especially in my lady business. My lips tip higher.

I’m sore and barely awake but I haven’t felt this refreshed in years. There’s a lingering scent of sandalwood and orgasmic bliss surrounding me. I’ll have to wash the sheets or my dreams will be a constant replay of the best sex I’ve ever had.

My fingers reach for the opposite side of the bed. The spot Drake had occupied while cuddling me to sleep is now cold. A pinch of disappointment clenches my heart. Stupid. This is what I wanted. I had every intention of kicking him to the curb but he saved me the trouble.

Just then, a clang rings out from downstairs. I shoot upright, pulse leaping to the sky. My breath catches as I wait for Chester and Cheeto to sound the alarm. Not a single woof confrontswhoever just dropped something. My ears strain to hear a voice to identify. The racket continues with more clinks and clatters. There’s definite rummaging. Nobody speaks.

I shiver, suddenly very aware that I’m nude. There’s a lump of fabric within grabbing distance and I yank the cotton over my head. Drake’s scent washes over me but I’m too distracted to appreciate the comfort.

I grab clean underwear while noting the clock strongly suggests my kids shouldn’t be home yet. It’s possible that Shawn dropped them off early but he would’ve called.

As I creep down the stairs, the most likely intruders come to mind. I slump against the wall for a moment and gather my scattered wits. Several members of my extended family live just up the road. Auntie June is notorious for dropping by unannounced. She caught the horse bug at an early age, unlike my mother. The unmistakable aroma of freshly brewed coffee points a guilty finger at my cousin.

I stroll into the kitchen and stumble to a stop. The scene in front of me takes a solid minute for my brain to compute. It isn’t Paisley raiding my fridge. Auntie June is nowhere in sight. Charlie and Kenzie wreaking unsupervised havoc would be more believable.

Drake is standing at the stove with his back to me. Smoke and steam curl around him like a caress. There’s a distinct sizzle from whatever he just flipped in the frying pan. But it’s not the possibility of food that captures my appetite.

An apron string is tied at his lower back, leaving his ass on naked display. That firm bottom is something to admire. Especially in the soft light fondling him. My mouth waters and I have the sudden urge to nibble on a juicy peach.

Those sculpted cheeks flex as if aware of my intense admiration. “Hungry?”

“I could eat,” I croak.

Drake peeks at me over his shoulder, a smirk waiting on his lips. “You look freshly fucked.”

“You’re one to talk.” But the retort is weaker than my vagina’s willpower against him.

Between the dimple buried in thick stubble and twinkling baby blues, this man can get whatever he wants. He couldn’t be unattractive if he tried. Meanwhile, my hair resembles a nest that most birds would abandon. It’s entirely his fault I’m in this disheveled condition.

I tug at a snarl while slinking toward the large island that occupies the center of this open concept layout. The butcher block surface provides support for my unsteady limbs. His bare butt is within chomping distance.It wouldn’t spoil my appetite to take a nibble.

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