Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 102016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
I do, and moan when I find her nipples already hard.
“That’s what I thought. You’re already turned the fuck on. Does taunting me do it for you, kitten?”
“It’s fun.” It’s a confession, and she tips her head back and lets out a soft moan when I pinch her nipple a little harder. “God, that’s good.”
“And how are things down here?” I glance around and see that no one’s around and then unbutton her jeans and slip my hand inside. Dani moans when I slip a finger through her folds. “Jesus fuck, sweetheart, you’re soaked.”
“Always,” she says on a sigh. “You exist, and I’m wet. That’s just how it seems to work.”
“And I fucking love it.” Her clit is hard under the pad of my finger, and I move my lips down to her throat. “I. Can’t. Get. Enough of you.”
She whimpers, and my finger leaves the hard nub, moving down to her entrance, and when it slips inside, that whimper turns into a moan.
“Shh.”
“This isn’t really a punishment,” she says against my shoulder.
“Oh, yeah, it is. Because there are people twenty yards away, picking apples, and someone could walk up on us at any time.”
She stiffens at that and tries to pull away, but I hold her in place.
“And I’m going to make you fucking come, right here and right now, and you can’t make a sound. Do you hear me?”
“Yes. But how—”
I plant my thumb over her clit and push my finger in to my first knuckle, and whatever she was about to say flies right out of her head. She leans her face on my chest, grunting and moving against me, but not whimpering.
“Good girl,” I croon into her ear and feel her tighten around my finger.
My girl loves being praised.
In less than thirty seconds, I have her worked up and cresting over into oblivion. She bites my chest. It takes my breath away to see this beautiful woman fall apart like this.
Slipping my hand out of her pants, I lick my fingers clean, and then rebutton her pants and pull her into my arms.
“You haven’t even kissed me yet.”
With a laugh, I tip her face up to mine and settle my lips over hers, tasting the traces of the apple cider donut we shared when we got here and the pure lust moving through her.
“Better?” I smooth the hair off her face and tuck it behind her ear.
“Holy shit, Bridge.” She swallows, leaning against my chest to keep her balance. Her gaze drops to my fly and the obvious bulge straining against it.
“Don’t even say it,” I growl and kiss her forehead. “You’re not sucking me off right here, kitten.”
“Seems only fair—”
“No.” I laugh and take her hand in mine, linking our fingers. “I got what I wanted. I’m crazy about you. You know that, right?”
“Yeah.” She sighs as I lead her away from our tree. “It’s kind of wild, and I have to pinch myself sometimes to make sure that it’s real.”
“It’s real, sweetheart.”
“There you are, Daddy!” Birdie’s running in our direction, her cheeks rosy from the cool air. “We got three big buckets full of apples. Grandma says that should be enough.”
“Sounds like a lot of apples to me.” I grin at my daughter and then at my parents, who are following her, loaded down with their goods.
“Bubba,” Mom says to me, “we’d like to take Birdie back to the rental with us for the weekend. She wants to help me with my apple projects, and we thought we’d try to go to the pumpkin patch tomorrow.”
“Yeah, Dad, can I?”
“I don’t see why not. We’ll swing by the house and pack you a bag.”
When I glance over, I see Mom leaning in to say something to Dani, and my girl blushes and then nods and glances my way.
“We’re happy for you,” Dad says softly beside me. “Couldn’t have handpicked someone better for you and our girl.”
“She’s the best,” I agree, watching Mom fold Dani into a warm hug and then loop her arm around Dani’s shoulders as they walk toward the checkout building so we can pay for our apples and head home.
“You need a foot rub.”
Dani turns to me from where she’s standing in the kitchen, washing apples.
“Me?”
“I’m not talking to Pickles, sweetheart.”
She snorts at that and then shakes her head. “I have to finish washing these apples, and then I need to do some laundry.”
“Are you telling me that Birdie is out of the house for the next thirty-six hours, I’m not at work, and you’re planning to fill that time with laundry?” I shake my head at her as I cross to her and turn off the tap. “The apples are clean. Let them drain. I want you to go sit on that couch and put your feet up.”
She sighs, her shoulders droop, and then she smiles up at me.