“What has he done now?” I asked, my arms around his neck.
“Tricked Whiskey into taking their baby overnight.”
“What for?”
His hands slid down to my ass.
“You know what for.”
“Well, our baby sleeps through the night. We don’t need to trick anyone.”
“That’s true. We are very lucky,” he said as we slow danced to music that wasn’t there. He spun me into the hallway, following me as he hummed a tune.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To the bedroom. Unless you want to do it on the floor,” he proposed, looking somewhat hopeful.
“The bed is better,” I said, already breathless with anticipation. I always responded instantly to him.
“What is that?”
“What is what?”
“Something smells amazing.”
“Oh my God! I almost forgot!”
I ran into the kitchen and checked the timer. Ten more minutes. I sighed in relief.
“What was it?”
“It’s not ruined,” I said as he slid up behind me.
“Oh, good,” he said, biting my neck. “Turn the oven off.”
“It needs more time. Just ten more minutes.”
“Turn the oven off. It will still cook,” he said, continuing to nibble on me, punctuating his words with little nips and kisses against my skin. “How important can it be?”
“It happens to be an heirloom tomato casserole,” I said primly. “It took me over an hour to make, not counting the time it took to grow the damned tomatoes!”
“Uh huh. Sounds delicious. Turn it off.”
It was hard to be indignant when he was running his hands all over me, touching and kissing me ceaselessly. I moaned and let my head fall back as he lavished attention on my most sensitive parts.
“I suppose it will keep cooking if I leave it in, just… gently,” I said as I leaned forward to turn the gas off. Mac grabbed my hips from behind and growled.
“You want it gentle, sweetheart?”
“No… oh, no I don’t…” I moaned as he rubbed his shaft between my legs. I arched backwards, grinding into him. His hands slipped easily over the satin of my blue floral robe. I wasn’t wearing much underneath.
“Can I?” He asked, breathlessly. I could see my casserole through the oven window. It was still bubbling on the surface. He was right. The casserole would be fine. I gasped out a ‘yes’.
“Hold on, baby girl,” he said as he dragged my panties down my legs. I gripped the top of the stove, wondering if this was at all dangerous. And then I stopped thinking at all.
Mac was kissing me there. Long, slow, and deep kisses that made my pulse race and my knees weak. His tongue probed my folds, then pushed all the way inside. He always knew exactly what I wanted. He seemed to sense what I needed.
In life, yes, but especially in bed. He could read me like a book. He never every nerve, every sensitive spot, where I liked more pressure, and where I liked the most featherlight touches… The man had a sixth sense when it came to working his magic on me.
“Ohhhhh,” I sighed in pleasure. “Mac….”
“Hmmm hmmmm,” he said encouragingly. I whimpered in pleasure as he quickened the pace, using his fingers, lips, and tongue in perfect tandem. He doubled down when I started to come, my hands barely holding onto to the top edge of the stove.
As soon as I peaked, he shifted behind me, yanking his pants down so he could slip inside me. I was already coming, but feeling his shaft inside me just made me come even harder.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Come for me,” he said in that rough voice I loved so much. He got so manly when he was fucking me like this. I couldn’t get enough of it.
The rest of the time, he was much more of a give and take kind of guy. Especially since I tended to boss everyone around. At least when it came to the garden. And the kitchen. We coparented like champs, though.
There was no good cop or bad cop in our family.
But right now? My man was definitely in charge and I was more than happy to let him take the lead.
“Fuck. I want to take you to the bedroom so we can spread out. But I don’t want to stop.”
“We can… oh God, definitely don’t stop!” I cried out, changing my mind mid sentence. He grunted his agreement and drove into me even harder.
“You want a quickie? Or should I drag this out?”
“Qui-qui-quickie!” I stammered as I held onto the stove for dear life.
“I like the way you think, darlin’.”
It wasn’t long before I felt him growing even larger inside me. From the sounds he was making, I knew he was close. I bore down on him as a fresh wave overtook me.
Mac cursed a blue streak as he thrust home again and held onto my hips, not letting me pull away. I couldn’t move an inch. He filled me up with his seed, making me his again, as he always did. But something felt different this time. Familiar. Kind of like…