Page 77 of Devious Temptation
My orgasm surges through me, and I come with a strangled cry as my back arches and my hips chase his mouth.
He grins against my soaked flesh. “Give me another one, rainbow.”
Lawson likes to remind me that no other man will ever be able to bring me pleasure the way he does.
He works me slowly, adding two fingers as his tongue laps against my clit, making my body convulse as it nears another release.
And holy shit, I amnotcomplaining.
“Areyou making a gourmet meal for dinner?” I laugh as Lawson pushes the grocery cart down the baking aisle.
He grins, scanning the shelves. “I was going to surprise you.”
“Surprise me with what?” I look over the things he’s grabbed, unable to tell what meals he is planning. The cart is nearly full, even though we’re only staying until Sunday afternoon. I know he wants to fish tomorrow, so that means bass for dinner, but I can’t make heads or tails of the other ingredients.
“If I tell you, it won’t be a surprise.” Lawson pulls me in to kiss my temple. “Stay here a moment. I forgot something in the last aisle. Will you grab a bag of chocolate chips, please? Semisweet.”
Giddiness flutters from my chest to my lower belly. There’s only one reason I can think of for chocolate chips.
I browse the shelves for the brand I remember always seeing Lawson use. When I find them on the very top shelf, just out of reach, I debate waiting for him to come backbefore deciding to step on the bottom shelf to give myself a bit of a boost.
It tips slightly as I step on it, and a hand braces on the small of my back as I jump back in alarm, preparing for the whole thing to come tumbling down on me.
“Hey there, that could have been bad,” a warm, friendly male voice says.
Looking up, I see a pair of brown eyes and the thin smile of a guy I don’t know. He is basically caging me against the wall of chocolate.
“Hi.” He reaches for the bag I’d been trying to get. “Was this what you needed?”
“Thanks,” I mumble as he steps back. The whole interaction is innocent, but my body shivers in revulsion at the stranger’s touch.
“No problem.” He glances toward the end of the aisle. “I know this is probably really random and will sound weird, but I saw you a few aisles over and haven’t seen you around before, and, uh… I’m just going to shoot my shot here. You’re gorgeous, and if you’re here for the weekend, I’d love to take you to dinner.”
A throat clears behind me, and I startle, looking over my shoulder to see Lawson piercing the guy with a lethal gaze. If looks could kill, this man would be dead a hundred times over.
“Hi there, I’m Kip.”Kipholds his hand out to Lawson. “At the risk of sounding like a real creep, I was just asking your daughter here if she’d like to get dinner this weekend.”
I try and fail miserably to hide my erupting laugh behind a cough. Irritation rolls off Lawson in waves. He ignores the proffered hand and wraps his large, muscled armaround me, pulling my body into his side possessively. “She’s not my daughter. She’s my girlfriend.”
Kip’s eyes widen comically. “Oh, wow. Dude, I’m so sorry.” He backs away, eyes darting between us as crimson stains his cheeks. “I’m just… gonna go now. Have a great weekend.”
Lawson glares down at me when I turn my eyes to him, causing me to jump in shock. “What? I couldn’t reach the chocolate you wanted, so he was just helping me.”
“Uh huh,” Lawson hums dryly, clearly not amused.
With a shrug, I push the cart further down the aisle, ignoring his pointed glare. “I can’t help it if men want to help a damsel in distress.”
Suddenly, Lawson’s hands grasp the handle on either side of mine, his chest pressing against my back with a heavy heat that has me instantly wet.
Nuzzling my ear, he whispers, “You are neither a damsel nor in distress. What you are is a devious little brat who is going to get a spanking when we get home.”
Everything he says sends sexual electricity down my spine, and I look at him over my shoulder, brimming with a need to get the fuck out of this grocery store and backhome.“Yes, Daddy.”
“Dinner was amazing.Thank you for cooking.”
Lawson starts getting out bowls, mixing spoons, and a few different pots before pulling the remaining grocery bagstoward him on the kitchen island. “Of course. I enjoy cooking. And you make a pretty good sous-chef.”
“Please,” I snort, “I nearly burned the rice. Who burns rice?” I am not a bad cook and will die on the hill claiming it’s the type of pots he has here—that and the fact that I always use a rice cooker at home.
