For her. Because he wanted her to smile. Because he wanted to give her a cake to eat.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged him down for a quick, scorching kiss. Her tongue licked inside his mouth, letting him know just how pleased she was.
He broke the kiss off with a small groan, then leaned in and said in a low voice, “Help me get rid of Brenna. I can’t shake her. As soon as she found out I was making you a cake, she wouldn’t go away.”
Beth Ann looked over at the other woman, who was watching them both with an amused smile. The woman acted childish at times, but Beth Ann suspected it was all very deliberate. “Hey, Brenna?”
“Hey yourself.”
“I’d really like to make love to my boyfriend right now,” she said softly, and brushed her thumb over his lips. He groaned, bit the pad of her thumb, and she gave Brenna a slow smile. “Think you can bail out on us?”
Brenna winked. “Absolutely.” She sauntered to the door, paused by a half-open bag of flour, and grabbed it. “If Grant asks, you two did not see me leave with this.”
And then she left.
Beth Ann turned to Colt, running her fingers down the front of his apron. His was immaculate. Not surprising to learn that the mess was probably 90 percent Brenna. “Are those two sleeping together?”
“Not yet,” he said, his dimple flashing. “They claim to hate each other.”
“Oh, that,” she whispered huskily, and leaned in to suck on his lower lip. When he groaned, she caressed it with her tongue, and leaned back. “I think they’re lying to themselves, then.”
“Kind of like us?”
“Very much like us,” she said softly. Her hands went to his apron and she tugged the strings at his waist undone. She tugged the apron off and tossed it to the side, her hands moving to his belt buckle.
His hands caught hers. “You want to try your cake first, darlin’?”
She shook her head and bit her lip, giving him a naughty look. “I’m kind of hungry for something else.”
Need flared in his eyes and his hands went back to brace his body against the counter. “Oh?”
She nodded, finished unbuckling his pants, and knelt before him. She tugged them down to his knees, and then tugged his briefs down. His c*ck rose, hard and thick already. She continued to tug his pants down, noticing the long white scar that ran along one knee. She leaned in and kissed it, because she knew he hated it. Knew that it was why he’d left the marines. He hadn’t had a choice.
But she loved it, because it had brought him here, to her.
“My scar’s not half as interesting as my cock,” he said in a husky voice.
“Mmm, agreed,” she said, lightly brushing her fingertips along the smooth length of him. “I think this would be delicious with frosting.” She reached to his side and dug her finger in the corner of the cake, then smeared the glob of frosting on the tip of his cock.
He groaned, his hand moving to the base of his c*ck to cup it.
“Looks delicious to me,” she said, and then reached out to lick it—and him. The frosting was sweet in her mouth, and she twirled her tongue over the head of his cock, making sure to get every bit. Even after the frosting was gone, she continued to lap and smooth her tongue over the crown, enjoying his ragged breathing and the exquisite taste of him. When a salty drop of pr**um touched her tongue, she looked up at him. “The frosting is delicious.”
He reached behind him, and to her surprise, grabbed a bowl of frosting. With one hand on his cock, he tipped the bowl over it, and more frosting, liquid, thick and wet, smeared down the hard length. “Looks like you have a bit more to lick off.”
Beth Ann smothered her laugh, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in her eye. “A feast indeed.”
And she settled her open mouth against the head of his c*ck again. His h*ps thrust lightly, pushing the thick length deeper into her mouth, frosting smearing against her lips. “Oh, f**k me,” Colt groaned. His other hand tangled in her hair, and she felt its sticky weight against her head. “That is so damn hot.”
She rubbed her tongue against him, lapping at the frosting around his thick length. Beth Ann pulled her mouth off of him and slowly tongued down his length, lapping at the dripping, sweet mess, cleaning his shaft. He groaned in his throat with every new press of her tongue. Decadent vanilla frosting filled her mouth, the taste overpowering and rich, and, accompanying that flavor, the salty, masculine taste of Colt’s skin.
Lord have mercy, she loved the taste of him. Loved doing this to him. She moved her mouth back to the crown of his cock, lapping at the droplets of pr**um there. Again, his h*ps bucked, as if he wanted her to take him deep in her mouth again. And the thought excited her, so she obeyed, opening her mouth wide.
He surged inside, filling her mouth with more of his sweet, salty flesh. She moaned at his tortured groan, and he pumped into her mouth again. And then again, pushing deeper until he butted against the back of her throat.
“Not going to last, Beth Ann,” he rasped, his fingers clenched tight in her hair.
In response, she sucked him harder, and her frosting-covered fingers went to his sac, caressing the globes there.
He exhaled sharply and began to slowly f**k her mouth again, each slow, exaggerated thrust working deep. He watched her, watched his c*ck disappearing between her frosting-slicked lips, and she knew the sight must have been incredibly erotic for him. She stared up at him, too, knowing that he’d love to see her gaze on him as she took him deep. And as he slid back and forth inside her mouth, faster and faster, she rubbed her tongue along his length.
He came with a burst of saltiness in the back of her throat and a harsh, ragged groan. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly full of his flavor. It cut into the sweetness, the taste sharp and erotic, and she swallowed all of it. She continued to lick at him even as he pulled out of her mouth.
“Fuck,” Colt said in a ragged voice. His hands moved to hers, dragging her up to her feet. “I should make you a cake every day.”
She stood and smiled at him, licked her lips. They still tasted sugary and delicious, and tinged ever so slightly of him. “It’s a shame you used all the frosting on yourself,” she said lightly. “I didn’t get my turn.”
His eyes lit up and he grabbed her by the waist, then turned and set her on the counter, next to the cake.
Beth Ann glanced over at it and smiled. “You’re not going to ruin my cake by smearing it all over me, are you?”
He leaned up and kissed her. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Stay right here.” He leaned down, hitched his briefs and pants back around his waist, then headed to the far side of the kitchen. She craned her neck to see what he was doing, and then began to laugh as he came back into view with a can of frosting. “Really?”
“Really,” he said, and handed her the can.
She took it, looking down at it with amusement. Chocolate this time. “I don’t get vanilla?”
“You are not vanilla in the slightest, darlin’,” he drawled, and as she watched, he carefully took her perfect cake and moved it to the far counter, away from them.
Colt returned to her side and he took the frosting can from her and set it down, then tugged at her sweater. She shucked it off, along with her bra, and when he tugged at her jeans, she helped him slide those off, too. He even took her panties, and a moment later, she was sitting atop the counter, nak*d except for her shoes, and shivering with anticipation.
“Lay down on the counter for me,” he said, taking the frosting in hand again.
She did. Her hair was in flour, and her arm was resting against a sticky spot on the counter, but she didn’t care. She watched him with a breathless gaze, watched his big hands on the canister of frosting.
“Now,” he said slowly. “I am sure no one in this town thinks you are the type of girl that would lay down and let a man ice her like a cake.”
She laughed, and wiggled a little on the counter. “Is that what you’re going to do to me?”
“I am,” he said, and then pressed a kiss on the closest spot he could find—her knee. “And then I’m going to lick you clean.”
Her breath caught at that, her mind filled with images of Colt licking her, his tongue covered in frosting—and her own wetness. She moaned low in her throat.
He tore the seal off the canister and dug a thick finger into the icing. God, it was erotic just watching him with icing on his hands. She wiggled a little on the counter, pulling up her knees. Her p**sy already felt slick with need.
He leaned forward and then dabbed a fingertip on the hard tip of one breast. She sucked in a breath, stared down at the chocolate dollop over the peak of one nipple. Her gaze flicked up to his face. He wasn’t smiling, his expression intense as he got another finger full of icing and very carefully outlined her breast with it, drawing a circle around it. More icing, and his thumb skimmed over the sensitive flesh of her breast, painting the entire globe with thick chocolate brown. She shivered at his touch.
Then, he turned to the other breast and began to give it the same care, covering her small breast with the chocolate frosting. When he was done, he sat back, licked his finger, and stared down at her.
She licked her lips, waited. “What do you think?”
He smiled at her, a flash of dimple that made her knees weak and her p**sy even wetter. “I’m thinking it’s a shame we don’t have cherries for those little n**ples of yours. Guess I’ll just make do.”
He leaned down and captured the peak of one breast in his mouth, his tongue scraping over it.
She moaned. Oh God. That felt…incredibly erotic. He leaned and suckled at the peak, cleaning it with his mouth, his hand holding his dog tags out of the way. His tongue swirled out, grazing over the flesh of her breast, carefully cleaning it off. With every stroke of his tongue, she grew wetter and hotter, her mind ultra-focused on the traveling of his tongue. It slid to the underside of her breast, traced along the valley between her br**sts, lapping and rasping. He’d frequently stop back at her nipple, swirling his tongue back over it again.
By the time he moved over to her other breast and began to suck on the sweet peak, she was moaning with need. Her hands gripped at the countertop, and when he licked at the hard nipple, she pushed it farther into his mouth. Needing more. Wanting more. Loving the delicious torture. She needed him to touch her p**sy, though, and he wasn’t. His fingers were still sticky with frosting. So she thrust her breast into his mouth, and was rewarded with a tiny bite that made her gasp in her throat.
“Stay still,” he said with a low chuckle. And his tongue swept over her breast again.
By the time he was done with both br**sts, she was whimpering with need. Her sticky hands went to his hair and she tried to pull him in to kiss her. She needed him so badly. But he slipped out of her grasp and grabbed the frosting again. “You taste sweet, but I haven’t had all of you yet.”
“But—” she bit back her protest. He was going to frost her…there?
He dipped another finger into the frosting, looked up at her, and kissed her bent knee. “Spread your legs, darlin’.”