The Pact (Winslow Brothers 2)

“Do we get to taste it?” I question, nodding down toward the bowl. “Pretty sure all good bakers test the batter before they commit to putting their cake in the oven.”

“Oh yeah,” he answers.

Dipping one long index finger into the bowl, Flynn lifts his batter-covered digit toward me and gently swipes it against my neck. The coolness of the batter makes me squeal out in surprise, but he’s undeterred. Lips to my skin, he sucks and licks at my neck until the batter is gone, and tingles proceed to shoot down my spine and straight between my thighs.

“Mmm, it’s good,” he whispers against my neck. “But I need to check one more thing.”

His big hands around my hips, he lifts me up and onto the kitchen counter and spreads my legs so wide that my skirt bunches up my thighs. One more finger into the batter, he swipes it across the skin of my inner thigh, just inches away from where the hem of my black panties begins.

“Yep,” he says quietly and glances up at me with mischievousness lifting one side of his mouth. “I definitely need one more taste. Just to be sure.”

“O-of course,” I mutter. “It’s always good to be sure about something like cake or cupcakes or brownies or anything with batter, really…”

What are you even talking about right now?

“Glad you agree,” Flynn says, and his warm breath brushes against my inner thigh. It’s a confusing sensation, the cold of the batter and the warmth of his mouth, but oh my stars, does it feel good.

And it turns downright euphoric when he actually puts his lips to my skin and sucks at the sensitive flesh. His mouth lingers there, sucking and kissing, even occasionally drifting up and brushing against the hem of my panties.

It’s heaven and hell. Delicious and painful. And the throb that’s taken up residence between my thighs grows so intense I shift my hips a little to try to ease the pressure.

But it’s useless. I’m fucking turned on. Insanely turned on, actually. I want Flynn to keep kissing me, touching me, licking me, but I want him to do it everywhere. All at the same time.

“It’s good,” he says and lifts his mouth off my skin. “But I know it’s no match for your sweet-as-fuck pussy.”

Oh boy.

His hands slide up my thighs, over the material of my bunched-up skirt and the fabric of my silk blouse. His fingers linger over my nipples, and I have to swallow the urge to moan.

Eventually, both of his hands are gently holding my face, and our gazes are locked as we search each other’s eyes.

“What are you going to do to me, Flynn?” I ask, hopeful that all this cake-batter tasting is actually foreplay that leads to something a little more hands-on…me.

“First, I’m going to kiss you,” he says, and then, after a few soft brushes of his mouth against mine, he does.

His kiss is sweet like cake yet spicy like sex. It’s gentle but demanding, and I want it to go on forever. But it doesn’t. The instant he pulls away, my lips turn down at the corners. Flynn notices, but the heat in his eyes tells me that he has plans.

“And then, Daisy, I’m going to take you to bed,” he tells me and runs his hands through my hair. “I’m going to remove your clothes, and I’m going to kiss every fucking inch of you. Especially that birthmark that sits on your lower back, just above the curve of your ass.”

The fact that he knows about that birthmark hits me square in the chest.

“I’m going to kiss your breasts and lick your nipples,” he continues. “And I’ll probably stay there for a while. An hour, maybe two, because I’m obsessed with memorizing how every part of you works.”

His hands move from my hair and slide down my arms until his hand gently grazes the apex of my thighs. “Once I’m done with your breasts, I’m going to do the same thing to your pussy. Lick it, taste it, eat it. And I’m not going to stop until you’re begging for my cock.

“And by the time I spread your legs and slide inside you, I’m camping out there for the rest of the night. Until I can’t hold back from filling you with my come. Can I do that, Daisy?” he asks and brushes his lips across mine. “Can I take you to bed?”

I don’t have to think about my answer.

“Yes.” I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. “Please.”

With his lips to mine again, he kisses me slowly, lazily even, and the unbaked cake batter is a forgotten memory as Flynn carries me out of the kitchen and into the bedroom. And once my back hits the mattress, he removes my clothing.