She rumbles the prettiest little whine. “Well, to be fair, you thought I was a lunatic when I first got here.”
“Sorry to break it to you, but I still think that.”
She chuckles, but her laughter dies, turning into a gasp as I wrap my arm around her leg, lifting her knee to her chest to give myself better access. I notch the head of my cock against her opening before pushing inside.
Groaning, I fill her. “How are you so fucking tight? And so goddamn wet.”
We lay together, me inside of her but not moving other than our erratic breathing.
“I do a lot of pussy exercises, so that’s probably it. Gotta keep her in shape.”
I laugh into her hair. “Please, for the love of God, shut up.”
She presses her ass into me, willing me to move and I do, thrusting into her from behind. I keep my arm under her, holding her to me, my other hand circling her clit as we find a rhythm.
“You’re so perfect, Miller,” I whisper into her ear. “So mine.”
Her throat rumbles in the sexiest, most agreeable moan.
“You like hearing that?”
“Yes,” she exhales.
“You’re mine, baby.”
She moves against me quicker so I pick up the pace, fingering her clit with a faster tempo.
I know the words are moot to her, simply thrown out in the heat of the moment, but to me, they’re the most truthful words I can say.
If she’d let me have her, she’d be mine. I love the girl, and I try to show her through my actions, but if she ever gave me the green light, I’d tell her too.
“Kai,” she cries, her body contracting. “I’m—”
She can’t say anything else before her orgasm racks through her, always so fucking pretty when she comes. I want to commit the image to memory, every shudder, every moan. Knowing it’s all I’ll have of her in just a few days.
I continue to move inside of her, her pussy squeezing me as she comes apart.
“Are you close?” she asks as her chest expands with desperate inhales and exhales.
My breathing is labored too as I continue to thrust into her, loving how fucking warm she is and wishing this condom wasn’t in the way so I could feel all of her. I haven’t wanted to be that intimate with a woman before, and I especially haven’t wanted that risk since Max came along. But with Miller, I find myself wanting everything.
“Can I taste you?” she asks.
I pause my movements, my cock throbbing and needy inside of her. “What?”
“I want you to fuck my mouth while you’re kneeling over me.”
Jesus Christ, this girl.
Pulling out of her, Miller sits up to take her shirt off, leaving her naked in my bed with her pussy still fluttering on my fingers from her orgasm. She situates herself back on the pillow, close to the headboard with an all too excited smile on her lips.
How the hell is this my life? I’ve come to ask myself that every single day.
That smirk of hers turns dark as she watches me remove the condom, tossing it aside before I climb over her, my knees on either side of her face, trapping her below me.
I raise a brow. “Are you sure about this?”
Her tongue darts out, licking the tip of my cock, nodding with excitement like the little minx she is.
“Goddamn,” I exhale, shaking my head in disbelief. “I’m fucking obsessed with you.”
Her smile lifts. “As you should be, Malakai.”
I nod downward. “Put your mouth on it.”
She guides my cock into her mouth, and I use the headboard for leverage, fucking her face just as she asked me to. Miller moans around me as if this is the hottest thing to ever happen and when I look back over my shoulder, she’s got her thighs rubbing together, already needy to come again.
It was only a few months ago I was exhausted, wrung out, and on the brink of quitting my job just to get me through the day. And now, I’ve got the sexiest woman I’ve ever met below me who’s not only a champ in the bed but has also brought so much light and fun back into my life.
I truly don’t know how I got so fucking lucky to have her attention on me, but I’d do just about anything at this point to keep it.
Chapter 32
Miller
Violet: Today is the big day! This is everything you’ve worked for. Are you excited?
Violet: Also, prepare to hit the ground running when you get back to work next week. Not only is Chef Maven stoked about having you consult at Luna’s, but your Food & Wine interview is scheduled after you’ve settled in for a week there. Oh, and I have a mini virtual food-blog tour set up for that initial week as well.
Violet: Somehow, this break you took has made you even more sought after. Not even I could’ve planned this kind of positive press. We’re all ready for you to be back and see what kind of inspiration you’ve been hit with.
Violet: Miller?
Violet: Why aren’t you answering?
Max is playing outside, trying to catch the bubbles Kai and Isaiah are blowing in his direction. I watch them all together through the glass of the backdoor slider.
“Chef.”
Max smiles up at his dad, his blue eyes squinting with a full-tooth smile.
“Chef.”
He crawls over to where Kai sits, climbing onto his lap as his dad tries to teach him how to blow an exhale against the bubble wand.
“Chef Montgomery.”
Snapping out of it, I turn to find Sylvia, today’s photoshoot coordinator, looking at me as if I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have.
I clear my throat. “Yes?”
“I was asking where you want the crew to put those?”
She points towards the rack next to the sink where Max’s sippy cups and silicone plate lay to dry.
The kitchen is pristine. Kai was up before Max or I were awake to make sure it was spotless because, of course he did. He’s done everything in his power to help me succeed in going back to work.
The only things left in the kitchen are the dishes Max used for breakfast this morning.
“I um . . .” I look around for a place to put them, but that’s where they belong. Because this is someone’s house, and yes, a toddler lives here.
“Just put them on the floor or something,” Sylvia says, frantically waving her clipboard around. “The photos will all be from the waist up, so they won’t be in the shot.
Her assistant bends at his knees to put the dishes down.
“No! Don’t,” I call out. “I’ll take them.”
I gather them in my hands, awkwardly holding Max’s cups and plate so I can find a safe spot for them that’s not the floor. But looking around, there’s no free space because the kitchen has been overtaken and turned into a photoshoot set.
Lingering in the opening of the hallway that leads to Kai’s room, I watch as Sylvia and the photographer go over the different shots the magazine is looking for. Three different people work on the lighting. Another assistant preps glass mixing bowls with ingredients for me to appear as if I were working in front of the lens.
The house is chaotic; ten or so people, whom I’ve never met, mill around Kai’s kitchen, working their hardest to make it appear as if we were in a high-end restaurant instead of the house occupied by a single dad and his son.
Nothing feels right. From the moment the first person shoved inside the front door with their equipment, I regretted my decision to do this here. How the hell am I supposed to look at that magazine cover when it releases in the fall, knowing this kitchen holds some of my favorite memories, none of which relate to the life or career that will be featured in the article.
This is the place where Max and I baked cookies together for the first time. Where I fell in love with the basics of baking again. Where Kai and I were so desperate to touch that we literally rode each other’s bodies on the counter.
And now it appears as if it’s never been used before, with blinding bright lights and strangers frantically running around.
As I hold Max’s dishes, my attention slides to the backyard again. The three Rhodes boys have been outside all morning, keeping Max busy and away from the chaos of the house. Compared to the frantic kitchen, outside looks like a whole other world.