He ran his thumb through my wetness, pressing it against my clit and I squirmed, letting out a moan of desire. He shifted, burying himself to the hilt before dragging my hands over my head and anchoring them there with one of his own.
“Soft or hard, Twinkles?”
“Oh my god,hard,” I breathed out.
He slammed into me, rolling my right nipple between his fingers with his free hand, hard enough to sting, but in the best of ways. His mouth covered mine and I pressed my tongue against his as I desperately tried to catch my breath.
“Get there, baby,” he ordered.
“I’m already there, honey.”
He let out a grunt and I felt his cock pulse against my walls as another orgasm rolled through me. Kissing me again, he rolled us onto our sides, facing each other but keeping our connection and smiling. “Lookin’ at you now, Rowan. And I can confirm it’s a fuckin’ fact you’re beautiful.”
I ran my thumb over his mouth. “So are you, big man. In every single way.”
He kissed me again before we headed to the shower and got ready for the day.
* * *
“Oh, cheese and crackers!” I snapped, dropping butter on the floor. We’d left the diner in the capable hands of Dusty and Monty and headed up to my loft early and I was working up the nerve to ask Scooby something.
“That’s three,” Scooby called out from the living room.
I narrowed my eyes and muttered under my breath as Lord nudged my thigh.
“Twinkles.”
I let out a quiet squeak and looked up from my stove.
“Careful,” he said. “You’ll burn yourself.”
I flipped off the gas. “Well, if you didn’t sneak up on me, I wouldn’t have to be careful.”
He crossed his arms and smiled. “Spill.”
“Spill what?”
“Baby, we literally ate less than half an hour ago and now you’re in here cookin’ somethin’.”
“Not successfully,” I grumbled.
“Exactly, so what is it you’re trying to avoid?” He nodded to Lord. “You’re ampin’ your dog up.”
I bit my lip and took a deep breath. “I’m working up my courage.”
“To do what?”
“To ask you something.”
“Baby, you can ask me anything.”
“I know that… in theory,” I said.
Scooby leaned against the counter and waited.
“Okay,” I breathed out. “You know how my favorite author is D.W. Foxblood?”
“It is?” he deadpanned. “I had no idea. I mean, the fact you own every book, all her movies, the soundtrack from said movies, and the signed anniversary hardbacks of the books that were turned into those movies never gave that away.”