“Not falling for that, Sarge. I feel like lookin’, I’m going to look.”
Her fingers found his chin and tipped it up. He was greeted by arched black eyebrows, pale skin, and a full, kissable mouth. She was a pinup dream girl. Especially with that thick shock of bangs dusting her forehead and her long ink-black hair flowing over her shoulders. She had a mad case of bedhead and he absolutely loved it. There was something inviting about her with her mascara slightly smudged under her eyes and her lipstick gone, her clothes missing. She was softer than ever. Even while trying to be hard.
Catlike blue eyes held his like she’d forgotten why she’d tipped his chin in the first place. He let himself sink into those depths and let his mind wander to the syrup that he’d much rather pour onto her than his stack of buttermilks. He slammed his mouth over hers, and Gloria squeaked, shifting on the bed and trying to hold herself so that they didn’t end up rolling around in their breakfast.
He slid his tongue along hers and she let him, holding his face with her hands while they kissed. She probably wanted to stop him, so he made it his job to keep her turned on enough so she forgot she wanted anything but his mouth on hers. His mouth all over her.
His hand went to her breast and he kneaded until her nipple pebbled under his touch. He reached behind him and blindly felt around in the plastic to-go bag, keeping his mouth on hers so she couldn’t argue. When he came in contact with a small foam bowl with a plastic lid, his fingers slipped on something sticky and he knew what he had. Real maple syrup. He’d paid extra for it instead of the corn syrup shit, thinking of nothing more than how fantastic his pancakes were gonna taste. Now? Now he couldn’t care less about the flapjacks. But he had plans for the syrup.
He pulled his mouth from hers and tore the plastic lid from the bowl with his teeth.
“Oh no. No, no.” She pushed against his shoulders.
He spit out the lid and flashed her a grin. “Trust me.”
She shook her head, but a smile crested her mouth. “You can’t—” She sucked in a breath as he poured syrup on her breast, watching the sticky drops spill over her nipple and drip down her stomach, onto the sheets half covering her where she sat cross-legged on the bed.
He set the syrup container aside, balancing it as best he could on the bed within arm’s reach, and began to lick her clean.
“Asher.” Just a breath. A lilting, hot breath that made his cock jerk to life.
He cleaned every bit of syrup off one nipple, then moved down her stomach and licked the path of sticky stuff to her belly button. Her hands were in his hair, pawing at him as she panted, her breaths tight. He may have given in to her request for a quickie this morning, but that meant skipping over a part of her he’d wanted to taste but had been denied.
“Hang on,” he said. Any other time, he’d have swiped every bit of food onto his bedroom floor and yanked Gloria’s ankles until she was flat on her back, leaving the mess for later. But a niggling in the back of his mind reminded him that Tank would eat every bit of food that hit the bedroom floor and Asher really didn’t want to spend the rest of his Sunday at the emergency vet with a sick dog.
He worked fast, shoving containers into the plastic bags and tying them off before dropping them to the floor. As an afterthought, he dug out a pancake and threw it into the hallway. Tank padded after it and Asher shut the bedroom door behind the pup. Then he turned back to his girl.
Glo sat, legs still crossed, fists pushed into the bed. Her hair was wild, her eyes filled to overflowing with want, and her breasts lifted and fell with each ragged breath she took.
“’Bout to make you dessert,” he announced, stalking toward the bed.
She shook her head and made a feeble attempt to back away when he put a hand on her thighs. Before she worked up a protest he knew wouldn’t be sincere, he buried his other hand in her hair and captured her mouth. Then. She melted.
He felt it—the way her bones loosened, the way her head lolled as he kissed his way down her throat. Even the hands that had been braced to hold her upright had moved to hold him instead. And he liked that a whole hell of a lot. He liked her a whole hell of a lot. And he was about to enjoy eating her * a whole hell of a lot.
He had all day. May as well make it count.
*
Asher’s tongue moved against her clit, one insistent push after the other. The thoughts in her head ceased like she’d suffered brain damage. And maybe she had. She’d been determined to maintain control where he was concerned. With the sticky remnants of maple syrup on her breasts and his mouth moving in a tantalizing rhythm between her legs, she could say, without a doubt, she was no longer in control. He was treading heavy, overtaking her the same way he had when they’d first been together. And because of the brain-damage-like effect, she couldn’t for the life of her remember why she didn’t want this.