Pippa gives me a nervous smile. She shouldn’t be nervous—I’d be excited about anything she planned. I just want to spend time with her. To get to know her a little bit more. To try and wrap my head around what it is about this girl that drives me fucking wild. She’s always driven me wild. At first, with anger; now, it’s with something else. I can’t put a finger on what exactly, but there’s something about her. Something different. Something special. And because of that, she could plan a date with the two of us in the middle of a cornfield, and I’d be ecstatic about it.
Although I don’t know if there are cornfields in Colorado. The temperatures don’t seem conducive to it, but I don’t have a fucking clue.
“I thought we’d start the night here.”
“Here?”
She nods. “Yes. I want to bake something together. Pasta with some other things I have planned. And then I want to take you to Pop’s for dessert after.”
“Funny because I think I’d much rather make you dessert.”
She rolls her eyes at me, playfully swatting at my chest. “In case you’ve forgotten, you have to work for that, Mr. Hunter. You better get to it.”
I kiss her cheek, gesturing for her to lead the way. She tugs on my hand, pulling me toward the back kitchen. “I really thought the roses would work in my favor. I made your Ms. Lori search her entire stockroom to make sure I got every red rose in the place. I’d actually asked for pink ones since it seems, you know…” I look around her cafe, which has pink in every direction. “You really like pink.”
When we get to the back room, I find a little table placed in the corner. There’s a candle at the top with the table already set.
“I could’ve done all this,” I note, missing her touch the moment she lets go of my hand. It falls awkwardly to my side as she heads to a cabinet. I look back to the table, upset that she had to do all of this. That wasn’t my intention when I told her to pick. I just thought she might want to choose the location—not set up and plan out an entire meal.
“You could’ve, but I wanted to. To start the night, I didn’t want to share you with anyone. There’s still so much I don’t know about you, and I don’t want to go somewhere public where everyone will be stopping at our table to snoop every two seconds.”
“I was wildly unprepared for how interested people are. That Rosemary was something else earlier.”
She laughs. “A little advice for you. Everyone here knows everything about anyone. If you take it public—and even sometimes when you don’t—people will find out. If you wanted to keep us a secret, it’s too late. Rosemary has already called up her bunco friends, book club ladies, and probably half her bible study.”
“Do you think I want to keep this a secret?”
She places the flowers on a large, narrow table on the far side of the room, getting them out of the way for whatever she has planned. My heart races in my chest, anxious to hear her answer. Is she stalling? I don’t want to keep it a secret. At least, I don’t want to go out of my way to hide anything. I’m sure men fall at her feet in this town. I want them to know to look away. She’s mine.
Is she, though? It’s still too fresh to say that, but I don’t give a damn. I’ve tasted her, gotten to know the parts of her she doesn’t share with the world, and I want her as my own.
I feel awkward, standing in the middle of her small kitchen, waiting for her to answer me. Maybe I’ve misinterpreted things. We haven’t had any conversations about what we are, but it might sting a little to find out she’d rather keep whatever is developing between us a secret from this town that she loves. I’d be proud for them to know we’re seeing each other.
Are we seeing each other?
“Do you want to keep this a secret?” I press. Fuck. My heart beats so fast. Why am I so anxious? Why do I care? This hasn’t ever happened. It feels like everything hangs in the balance as I watch her with bated breath, fully realizing that I might care about her far more than I’d anticipated.
“I’m not sure what this is.”
“I’m not either,” I confess, scratching at my chin. Do I lay it all out on the line now or keep my cards close to my chest? I never want to be the one to admit how I feel first. I like to watch people, read them, to see where their head is at before giving them any indication of what’s going on in my own head. It’s something I’ve done with work for years. I’ve never had to do it with a relationship because I’ve never cared enough. Taking a deep breath, I make my decision. And if it backfires, I’ll just do the simple thing and pack up and head back to Manhattan, never to return to Sutten again. Maybe avoid Colorado altogether. “But I want more of this. More of you. More of us. And unless you want to, I don’t have anything to hide. I want you, shortcake. In an intense, ferocious way I’ve never wanted anyone else.” Another deep breath in. “And it’s actually really fucking unnerving.”
“Good,” she whispers, her voice so soft I almost miss it.
“Good?”
She rubs her lips together. “Yes. Good. I want to unnerve you, Camden. I want to rip away the cold and collected front you put on for everyone else and see what you hide underneath. That way, I can find out what parts you save just for me.”
I shake my head, staring at her for a few drawn-out seconds before rushing to close the distance between us. She helps me close it, her body catapulting into mine as our lips meet in a heated rush of desperation.
Our hands cling and clutch at clothes, limbs, hair, everything. We can’t get enough of one another.
I’ll never have enough of her.
Pippa grabs at the lapels of my shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons. She gets the first few undone, pressing her hand against my exposed chest. My heart beats erratically underneath her touch, further proving the words I just confessed.
“Your heart is racing so fast,” she says against my lips, pressing harder.
“It always does that when I’m with you.”
“Good,” she repeats, smiling before leaning in to kiss me again.
I roughly grab her hips. “You think you’re pretty cute saying that word, don’t you?” I’m not gentle as I pull her lip between my teeth and pull, stretching it out slightly.
“Maybe.” Her hands drift lower.
Her yelp echoes off the walls when I spin her, pushing her hips into the lip of the island. “I tell you that you’re driving me fucking mad—stitching yourself to every single one of my thoughts—and your response is good?”
I reach around her, undoing the button and zipper of her jeans. I don’t take my time pulling the fabric down her hips, down her legs, coaxing her to step out of each pant leg before I toss the jeans to the side.
She wears a red thong, the same color as the roses I got her. It’s so goddamn sexy, cutting through her ass cheeks, teasing me as the perfect globes just ache for attention. I kiss above the high-rise fabric on her hips, kissing along the path the thong travels. “I tell you that my heart skips a beat, completely against my will, every time I’m near you, and you have the nerve to say good.”
I nip at her soft skin, earning a moan from her. “I’m beginning to hate that word,” I mutter against her. “I want more from you, shortcake. I want it all.”
Her hips arch as I trail my hand up between her thighs. She steps apart of her own accord, widening her stance so I have better access to her sweet cunt. “Good.” She moans when my fingers pull at the fabric between her round, perfect ass cheeks.
I smack her ass, the sound of my skin against hers ringing loud in the small space. “Two can play this game,” I say, admiring the red mark I just put on her skin. I do it again, my cock stiffening at the loud moan from Pippa. She jolts, knocking over a bowl full of flour, which falls to the ground in a cloud of white powder until it covers both of us.
The mess doesn’t bother me. I wipe away the flour on her ass, annoyed by it obstructing my view of the red marks I’ve left on her ass cheeks.
“Camden,” she moans as I kiss the slightly raised skin, wanting to ease the sting.
“You like that, don’t you?” I note, letting my hand drift between her legs. The fabric of her thong is soaked through. “Being punished for being a defiant little slut.”
Her head falls forward, her fingertips going white from gripping the island so hard. “I—” Her words cut off when I sneak a finger underneath the triangle of fabric, running it through her wetness.
Goddamn. She’s soaking wet.
“I, I—” she stammers, her back arching further from my touch. “I’m so wet,” she finishes.
She can’t see me, but I smirk. “Good.” My finger slips inside her, inching in achingly slow.
“I know you’re feeling what I’m feeling, baby.” I slide another finger in, relishing in the way she tightens around my two fingers. “You can feel proud giving me one-word answers, thinking you have all the power. I’ll let you have your fun.” I nip at the meaty part of her ass, leaving a love bite next to my palm print. “Because your body speaks to me. It gives you away. We’re in this together.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she bites, pushing her ass into me.
I shake my head. Fuck. I like it when she talks back. “Keep talking back to me, baby. It turns me on.” I slide my fingers out of her, a small punishment for having the nerve to do it despite how hard it makes me.
She moans in annoyance, looking over her shoulder with anger in her eyes. “Don’t stop.”
Reaching around her, I grab her by the throat and bring her body flush against mine. My straining cock pushes into her ass cheeks, trying to fit itself in the seam of them. I feel her moan against my palm, the sound vibrating against my fingertips.
“Want to know why I stopped?” I force her chin up, my lips dancing across her jawline.
“Why?”
“Because I want to hear you say it.” My palms run along her body, her skin raised with goose bumps, traveling to the bottom of her shirt. I lift the fabric over her head, throwing it behind me.
I like having her nearly naked with my clothes still fully on. It’s hot as hell to see the difference between us.
“Hear me say what?” Her body shakes with anticipation. She jumps when my hands find her again, my fingers slipping underneath the band of her bra.
“That I drive you wild. That you think of me all damn day. That you don’t hate me anymore.”
“Hate’s a strong word. I don’t know if I ever hated you,” she confesses.
“Then tell me that you feel something stronger for me now. And that it isn’t hate.”
She doesn’t answer. In fact, she even seems to fight it so hard that her top teeth rake against her bottom lip as if she’s trying to force the words from spilling from her mouth.
“I’m waiting.” I slide the straps of her bra down her arms, getting rid of the fabric as soon as I can so I can feel her perfect, perky tits without anything in between us.
When she still stays silent, I pinch her nipple between my fingers, grinding my cock against her ass at the same time she lets out a loud, uncontrolled moan.
“Camden.” She tries to arch into me, but I roughly push between her shoulders until her cheek is pressed against the cold counter of the island.
“Be that way,” I mutter, letting one fingertip drift down her spine. She’s covered in goose bumps. I don’t know if it’s from the press of her skin against the cold island or if it’s from me. Maybe it’s both.
My finger stops at the small triangle nestled right between the dimples of her back. I pull at the fabric, pulling it down her legs. She’s fully bared to me now, ready for my taking.
I let my fingertip drift along the seam of her ass cheeks. She shudders.
“Has anyone ever touched you here?”
“Where?”
I apply more pressure, trailing the path again, ending in her wetness. I push inside her again, getting it nice and wet before it travels up again. “Right here,” I say, pushing against a place I haven’t explored on her yet.
Her face rolls against the counter, her forehead pressing into it as she stifles a moan. “No,” she confesses. I don’t think she realizes that she pushes her ass against me, allowing my finger a fraction of an inch inside the tight hole.
“Good.” I fling the word back at her, pleased with myself.
She doesn’t argue. Instead, she moans again. I lay my palm flat against her skin. One finger drifts to play with her clit while the other pushes a little deeper inside her.
“It’ll be too much.”
“Good,” I repeat. “You’ve taken too much of me. It’s time I take more of you.” I fall to my knees, lining my face up with her perfect ass. I’ll think about it in my dreams, remembering how good it looked covered in flour except for the red handprint on her delicate skin.
“Spread your legs,” I demand. “Wide.”
She does as she’s told, spreading them, but not wide enough. I slap the inside of her thigh with the back of my hand. “More,” I continue, pushing her feet even further apart.
I grab both her wrists, forcing her to grip the corner of each side of the island to keep herself steady. It’s a beautiful sight having her ass on display, her cunt wet and begging for my complete attention. She watches over her shoulder with hooded eyelids, waiting for my next move.
With her in the exact position I want her in, I bring myself to her sweet cunt once again. My tongue circles her clit, my eyes closing with how good she tastes.
She tastes like mine. Like no other man should ever have the right to have her again.
While my tongue caresses her pretty cunt, my hands find either side of her ass cheeks, spreading them slightly to expose her. She moans when I let my fingertip drift over it again.
“You dirty girl,” I muse, coating my finger in her wetness. “You like it when I play with your ass?”
She doesn’t answer me, but I wasn’t expecting her to. I’ve learned enough about her to know not to expect an answer. Once I feel like my finger is nice and wet, my mouth seals to her clit once again. My tongue and finger play with her, making her hips buck with pleasure.
I don’t let up until her legs shake. The nice thing would be to have her come against my tongue. But I’m not a nice man. So right when I feel like she’s close to coming, I pull away and stand up. She moans in protest, her head rocking back and forth.
“No,” she pleads, trying to find friction by pushing her ass against me.
I step back, marveling at the sight of her. She’s wet between her legs from her own pleasure and my mouth. I admire the view, finishing unbuttoning my shirt and pulling my arms from the sleeves. She waits for me to touch her again as I fold the shirt nicely and place it on the counter nearest to me.
“Don’t move,” I command when she begins to push the top half of her body off the island. “Let me keep looking at you.”
She does as she’s told, but not without a defiant rock of her hips against the lip of the counter.
I take my time undoing my belt, pulling it from my belt loops and rolling it up nicely before placing it on top of my folded shirt. I strip from my shoes, pants, and boxer briefs, finally as naked as she is.
I fist my cock, needing the relief immediately as I take a few extra moments to gaze at her. She’s fucking perfect. She looks vulnerable, watching me through hooded eyelids as she anticipates what’s to come.
“Your cunt is dripping,” I tell her, looking at the wetness coating between her thighs. “Does that mean I’ve worked hard enough for it, baby?”
She nods. I knew she wouldn’t be able to resist this thing between us. I’ve had her since the moment we shared in this very building, but I don’t tell her that. I let her believe she’s the one in control.
“Good,” I get out, taking a step closer. My cock jerks eagerly when it runs along the line of her ass.
I give her a small smack on her ass again, nowhere near the amount of pressure I had used before, but it’s still hard enough for flour to fly in the air around us from it.
“Now, stand exactly like this as I fuck you until I get the answers I want. That you’re gone for me like I am for you.”
