Page 168 of Sassy Love
Promises, promises.
Chapter 42
LAWSON
Carlie laid bare on my kitchen counter is the way I want to end every fucking day. Every long, hard day should be rewarded this way. For the both of us. Grabby hands pull on my wrists. Her brown eyes darken as her fingers pluck a nipple.
Fuck me.
“You hungry?” I ask, and her head pops up, brows drawn, tone obviously not lending to her current mood, and it catches her off guard. I smile, playing with her.
“No.” She slides a hand down her belly, slipping a finger into her soaked center, and I almost ditch what I had in mind. Almost.
I open the refrigerator and lean down, turning my back to her. “I’m starvin’.”
A little huff sounds from behind me.
My smile widens.
I grab the can of whipped cream and the strawberry jam.
Perfect.
I turn back, letting the refrigerator door fall closed, and she’s sitting at the end of the counter, hands gripping the edge. Herexpression is a tangle of confusion and annoyance that falls away to surprise when her gaze dips to the items in my hands.
“I’m fucking starving, baby. Lie down.”
“You wouldn’t...” she breathes, her gaze alternating from the cream and jam to my face.
“I absolutely would. Now. Lie down.” The words are more of a growl as every last bit of blood sinks south at the sight of her bare on my kitchen counter.
She huffs a breathy “Fuck” and does as she’s told.
I like this Carlie.
For a little while, anyway. I couldn’t go without her smart mouth keeping me on my toes for too long. Her eyes don’t leave my face, her breaths cycling deep and quick as I shake the can and flip the lid off with my thumb. It hits the floor, rolling away as I step up to the counter.
“Close your eyes, Princess.”
With a quick warning glance, she lets her eyes flutter shut.
I survey her soft skin, the delicious angles of her curves, her breasts, the dip of her stomach, the frame of her hips that gives way to the place I want to dive into and never return. Shaking the can once more for good measure, I squirt a perfect circle around one nipple. The instant the cold cream hits her skin, she hisses, hands curling around the long edges of the counter.
“Laws . . .” she breathes.
“Keep ’em closed,” I rasp.
A tentative smile curves over her lips, her grip turning white on the counter when I pepper more cream on her breast. I run a line of the glossy white topping down her center, stopping just before the sweet nub I’m sure is driving her crazy right now.
I round the counter so I’m at the end, spread her thighs, and strategically place more cream up each thigh, stopping short of her entrance.
“Lawson Rawlins, don’t you dare.” She swallows hard.
I squirt the cream over her clit, letting it fall and cover her pussy.
“The hell . . . you didn’t,” she whines.
I chuckle at her. I’ve never seen her so wound up. So desperate. It’s magnificent. I reach for the jam and twist the lid off before dropping dollops over her skin, little ruby pearls of jam.
