But I could still play this game right now, while a few lingering wits remained.
“Don’t test me, Naughty Girl. I will dirty talk you right off this island.”
“Mmm, Simon, can’t you just see me? Bent over, little apron with nothing underneath, rolling pin in hand, and a bowl full of apples?”
“Apples? Oh boy, I love apples,” he groaned, picking up my other foot and placing it on the opposite shoulder, his hands roughly pulling me even farther toward the edge, his pace picking up again just a bit.
“I know you do, with cinnamon? I could bake you a pie, Simon. Your very own apple pie, even a homemade crust…all for you, big guy. You know all you have to do is ask me…” I smirked, trying to keep my eyes from crossing as he sped up again, the sound of skin slapping not even funny at all. There went another wit.
“How does that feel, Caroline. Good?” he asked, surprising me.
“Good? It feels amazing.”
“Amazing? Really?” He pulled out almost all the way before sliding back into me all at once, making me feel every single inch.
And the wit stands alone. “You know, it does, but back to the apples. Would you like your pie served hot with vanilla ice cream? Warm and melty with—oh my God…”
“You really want to talk about this right now? Because if you keep this up, I’m going to be forced to get really dirty myself.”
“Dirtier than apple pie talk?” I asked, stretching and pointing my toes toward the ceiling, creating a new sensation.
“How about this, if you don’t stop all this apple pie talk,” he started, leaning down to place his mouth against my ear, making me shiver. One hand grasped my breast, roughly turning and tweaking my nipple. The other snuck down, feeling against me until he found the spot that made me tense and cry out. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to stop f**king you, and believe me when I say I haven’t even begun to ravage you in all the ways I’ve dreamed about.”
He stood back up and thrust. Hard.
Last wit? Bye-bye. I ain’t too proud to beg. “God, Simon, I give. Just f**k me.”
“Apple pie for me?”
“Yes, yes! Apple pie for you! Oh, God…”
“That’s right, apple pie for me, apple pie for—God, you’re tight this way.” He groaned, switching both of my legs to one side, holding them up as he pounded into me, again and again, never retreating, only advancing, looking down at me, watching as my back arched and my skin flushed, heat creeping as my climax broke over me, stunning me silent in its intensity as I was shaken to the very core of my being.
“I love you, Caroline, I love you, I love you, I love you,” he chanted, thrusting erratically now as he sped toward his own release, sweat breaking over his brow as he clutched at my hips as I clutched him from the inside, holding him as long as I could, feeling his solid weight on me as he laid his head on my breast. How could his warm weight feel so good? It should have made it hard to breathe, constriction of the lungs and all that, but it didn’t. Holding him, cradling his face as I swept his hair back, it felt the opposite of heavy.
“You’re going to kill me, sure as I’m lying here,” he moaned, kissing everywhere he could.
“I love you too,” I sighed, gazing at my kitchen ceiling. I could feel a smile as big as the bay across my face. The O was going to be around for a very long time.
No way am I painting my kitchen blue.
9:32 p.m.
“I can’t believe this is the second time we’re cleaning flour and sugar off each other. What’s wrong with us?”
“The sugar is good for exfoliation,” I explained. “Not sure what good the flour is doing us, though.”
“Exfoliation?”
“Yeah, I figure every time we sex it up out there, all that sugar helps us remove dead skin cells.”
“Really, Caroline? Dead skin cells? That’s hardly sexy.”
“You weren’t complaining earlier.”
“Well no, how could I? You promised to bake me an apple pie. Don’t forget that part.”
“I won’t forget, but I was somewhat under duress.”
“You were under me, not under duress, under me.”
“Yes, Simon, I was under you.”
“Wash your back?”
“Yes, please.”
We lay on opposite sides of the tub, relaxing and soaking off yet another round of kitchen goo. At some point, I was going to have to clean all that mess up, but right now the only thing I could concentrate on was this man in front of me. This man, up to almost his neck in fragrant bubbles, strong arms snaking out now to bring me closer. I spun in the tub like a buoy, bobbing back and forth and arranging myself in front of him. He used a washcloth to gently remove the last of the sticky that covered me. Then he pulled me to his chest, leaning back against the edge of the tub. Arms encircled me, tucking me in, surrounding me with warm water and warmer Simon. I closed my eyes, relishing the feel of it all. The safety, the sweetness, the sexiness. I shifted, trying to get impossibly closer, and then I felt him against my bum. Growing.
“Why, hello there, friend,” I murmured, sneaking my hand through the bubbles to find him, wanting and wanton.
“Caroline…” he warned, laying his head back on the edge of the tub.
“What?” I asked innocently, trailing my fingers along the sides of him, feeling him react.
“I’m not seventeen, you know.” He chuckled, his voice growing husky and needy in spite of his words.
“Thank goodness, or I would have to answer for my actions—corrupting a minor and all that,” I whispered, slowly turning over to rub myself along the length of him, soap and bubbles and water making me slippery.
He hissed slightly and smiled. “You’re going to break me, you know this, right? I swear on all that’s holy, I’m not a machine—Christ, don’t stop doing that.” He groaned, thrusting into my hand without thought.
“Ah, break schmake. I just want to f**k you until you can’t see straight,” I purred, tightening my fist as he splashed water over the side a bit.
“I can barely see as it is. There seem to be three of you.” He moaned, pulling my legs apart and positioning me above him.
“Aim for the one in the middle, Simon,” I instructed and slid down.
Yeah, we had some water to clean up.
11:09 p.m.
“I’m just going to get the food. I need sustenance, woman.”