Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 13908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 70(@200wpm)___ 56(@250wpm)___ 46(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 13908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 70(@200wpm)___ 56(@250wpm)___ 46(@300wpm)
"You smell too good for me," I moan into his embrace.
"You won't be saying that in the morning," he laughs. "That is if you're serious about coming with me."
"I've always been serious about coming with you," I tell him as I pull out of his hug.
"Tease," he mutters with a slight shake of his head.
My mouth says the things my body wants, but logic forces me to change the subject. "Let's go laminate some dough or fold things into batter."
He snorts and kisses me on the top of my head. Dean keeps his arm around me as we walk out of the bar's back door, into the alley, and through another door that leads into the bakery's kitchen. It's freezing as we step inside, sending a shiver down my spine.
"I'd turn the heat up," Dean says as he glances down to see what's obvious. My nipples are as hard as rocks, and I can see the desire glazing over his blue eyes.
"Heat isn't good for what we need, right?" I ask him, turning toward him and letting the hardness of my breasts brush against his arm. He grunts and shakes his head.
"Fuck me," he mumbles.
I smile and stroke the side of his face. "I'm trying not to."
2
DEAN
Mackenna locks eyes with me as her soft fingers slide down my face while her hard nipples glide across my bicep. There's no way I can focus on prepping for tomorrow with her standing this close to me. All night working the bar with her has my mind reeling over what could have been.
Refusing to let the moment slip by, my hand slips behind her neck. I slide the band off her ponytail to let long locks of soft blonde hair fall over my wrist. When my fingertips move up to graze her scalp, soft mewlings of satisfaction rise from her throat just as softly as she rises onto her toes. I lower my face toward hers because of fucking course.
I may be grumpy, which she never fails to remind me of, but I’m not made of stone. My entire being comes alive with her proximity.
When our lips touch, gingerly at first, I want to pull back, but I don't. I won't … not this time.
Fuck it. Let's turn up the heat.
Primal possession takes over. Her mouth, the way her lips mold against mine, and even the way she tilts her head show how perfectly we fit together. A few passes of my tongue over hers have me wondering if her nipples are still hard because of the coldness in the kitchen or from the anticipation of what's to come. Or should I say, who's to come?
Only one way to find out.
Our kiss explodes into something passionate, and I grip the bottom of her shirt and tear it open. The flimsy fabric separates like a jacket, revealing perfect tits that fit into the palms of my hand.
"You've been slinging drinks all night without a bra on, daring me not to look," I snarl against her mouth, pulling her back and then yanking her body back into me. I want to touch every inch of her and carve every curve into my memory.
"It was better for tips," she says with a smile.
"I know something that's better for a tip." I pinch one of her nipples as my other hand dips inside her jeans and between her legs.
Our mouths crash back against each other. My finger dips inside of her walls and forces Mackenna to slide her pants down past her ass to give me more room. I coax an orgasm out of her. The way her wetness coats my finger makes me kick myself for not trying harder to get back to this level of intimacy sooner.
The raw emotion that exists between us is undeniable. But every time we get here, something comes up to keep us apart. Mackenna's shallow breaths of passion pull me deeper into this explosive reunion of our bodies. But the sudden realization of where we are pushes logic ahead of my lust.
The redness of her skin fades away, her lust deflating with mine. A simultaneous exhale draws laughter from us both. She fidgets with the shards of her shirt before laughing and giving up.
"I've missed you," I tell her as I walk toward the break room door.
There are lockers inside with a couch and bathroom. Most of us who work odd hours at Sweet's keep a few changes of clothes just in case things get too messy. When I toss her a new shirt, Mackenna smiles and lets her torn shirt fall to the floor.
"I remember this shirt," she replies, ignoring my sentiment.
I let it go, saying, "You were adamant about taking it off the last time you were here. It's clean."
She brings it up to her nose, inhaling deeply before slipping it over her head. "Thank you, Dean. You always seem to have a way to fix me."