She moaned. “I don’t want you to. Ever.”
The chair creaked and rocked as he slammed into her, thrusting so hard she half expected the seat to collapse beneath them. And they would have kept going without missing a beat.
“Oh, shit,” she mewled as spasms of raw pleasure shafted through her. “Remy...ohh...Remy...”
“What, baby?” he whispered roughly against her parted lips. “What do you need?”
“You. Just...you.”
“You got me.” His eyes blazed fiercely into hers. “You got me.”
She shuddered and leaned back on his muscular thighs, so far back that her hair hung almost to the floor.
Remy groaned, his hands cupping her ass as he drove his shaft harder, deeper, drilling into her until she arched her spine and came with a primal cry.
He shouted her name as he climaxed, hot jets of semen spurting out of him to flood her *. She shivered as his cock pulsed and throbbed inside her for several moments.
As he slowly pulled her back up, her eyelids drooped and she slumped against him, spent and boneless.
“I can’t move,” she croaked.
He chuckled softly. “Then don’t. I like you just where you are.”
That makes two of us, she thought languidly as his hands stroked up and down her back, a soothing caress.
Neither spoke for several minutes, their hearts beating heavily against each other’s ribs, sweat cooling slowly on their skin.
Zandra found herself gazing at one of her mother’s paintings, a piece entitled Three Peas in a Pod that featured Zandra flanked by Remy and Roderick. The painting had been inspired by a photo Autumn had taken of the three children one summer as they sat licking Popsicles on the Brands’ front porch. Zandra was pouting as Remy and Roderick, sporting mischievous grins, tugged on each of her pigtails, a favorite pastime of theirs.
As warm nostalgia curled through her, Zandra sighed and lifted her head from Remy’s shoulder to smile at him. “Now that we’ve worked up an appetite, let’s eat.”
They dined outside on her balcony with the glittering expanse of Lake Michigan spread before them. Candles glowed on the small table, the flames flickering and dancing in the gentle summer breeze.
Zandra sat on Remy’s lap as they took turns feeding each other from the same plate of spicy crab linguini. Zandra had always enjoyed Cora’s cooking, but tonight it tasted even better than ever, the rich flavors enhanced by the experience of sharing the meal with Remy.
She twirled a few strands of linguini around the fork and slid it between his lips, watching as he chewed, then closed his eyes and groaned with husky satisfaction. “I think this is the best damn meal I’ve ever had.”
Zandra smiled, licking a dab of sauce from the corner of his mouth and purring, “I was just thinking the same thing.”
“Great minds think alike,” he murmured, kissing her softly. “But as much as I’m enjoying this meal, I can’t wait for dessert.”
“You’ll enjoy it. Cora made her truffle tart with strawberries. It’s delicious.”
“I’m sure it is, but that’s not what I had in mind for dessert.”
“No?” Zandra raised a brow at him. “What’d you have in mind?”
A purely carnal gleam lit his eyes. “You.”
Her stomach quivered, and she smiled demurely. “I’m not on the menu.”
“Then we’ll just have to create a new one, won’t we?”
As he leaned close to recapture her lips, she pulled back with a soft laugh and reached for the glass of Chablis they were sharing.
To her dismay, Remy had poured the rest of Colin’s rosé down the drain. When she’d protested, he’d reminded her of what she’d done to the drink he’d received from the woman in St. Lucia.
That shut her up.