Page 41 of Keeping Mr. Sweet

“Nothing yet,” he says. “This is a memory we still need to make. One for our future.”

“They’re perfect,” I say, the box sliding from my lap as I straddle him. “They’re all so perfect.”

“You deserve more,” he says. “Even if it isn’t everything you want. Maybe one day—”

“It doesn’t matter.” I wind my arms around his neck and press my forehead to his. He probably hopes, like I did for a long time, that my dad will one day show me he cares, but that isn’t going to happen. I broke the man’s heart until there was nothing left to give me. He can’t forgive me for destroying the love of his life, but that’s his burden to carry. I can’t keep carrying the blame he’s allowed me to believe was mine. I have to let it go. Maybe I won’t ever get to have a relationship with my father. I have to come to peace with that.

Sam’s own father told him that, but he didn’t understand. He doesn’t know that I overheard him ask his dad for his grandmother’s ring. That it was the happiest moment of my life, knowing he would choose me over everything. That he loved me as much as I loved him. Nothing else mattered until Stephen said he couldn’t support Sam when it came to me. That I was the kind of girl who would break a man until there was nothing left. That it was unfortunate because he cared about me, but I had issues that Sam couldn’t hope to stand up to over the course of our lifetime. Anyone other than Sam’s dad and I might not have believed them when he told Sam he wouldn’t understand love until he found the girl he couldn’t carry on without. I already knew what that felt like. I could see what that did to people. How could I hope to hurt Sam like that? How could I willingly let him volunteer for that?

“Where’d you go?” Sam asks.

“Nowhere,” I say, leaning in to kiss him before reaching for the open cupcake box. Am I selfish for not being able to move on? For being happy that he couldn’t either? How do I explain it to him?

Flipping open the lid, I scoop up some frosting with my finger and draw it along his jaw, leaving a smear of white buttercream and rainbow sprinkles.

His eyes widen and then fill with heat, hot enough to melt the icing and my insides. I nibble along his jaw, cleaning up the sweetness with my tongue as he grows hard between my thighs.

“Give me that.” He growls and snatches the box from my hand, upending me onto the bed so he can climb over me. With a leg on each side of my hips, he holds me down as he takes the cupcake out of the box and smears the frosting down my torso, from the hollow of my throat, between my breasts, and down my belly. Setting the cupcake down, he slowly peels me out of my boots. My pants follow, then my panties. With one finger he smears more icing from my navel to the very tip of my slit. I’m practically panting, turned on and wanting.

He picks up the cupcake and carefully balances it on my mound. “Don’t move.”

“What?” The cupcake wobbles.

“Keep still,” he says, laying down beside me. “Or you’ll unbalance the cupcake.”

“But…” I whimper as his fingers stroke the inside of my thigh, and he leans over me to lick at the hollow of my neck. His teeth graze my skin and it’s all I can do to stay still.

As he slowly draws his fingers up the inside of my leg, his mouth follows the trail of sprinkles and icing. Every lick, nibble, and kiss thrill me, making me slick for his fingers as they creep higher, to the crease of my thigh and along my seam to my clit. They dip there, and I can barely fight the need to move to his touch as he rubs little rings around my most sensitive spot. The cupcake shakes, and I have to bite my lip to keep control. He dips a finger into my center and I moan with need.

He licks the line between my breasts as he slowly glides his digit in and out of me. His teeth find a nipple and pull it into his mouth, toying with it. Then he moves to the other one. Somehow the cupcake stays where it is, its weight like a hand keeping me still for his indulgence. It’s erotic and hot as hell. My skin burns up everywhere he touches. He shifts his mouth lower as he slips another finger inside me, his movements unhurried, deliberate, bringing mind-blowing pleasure.

His lips skim my navel as they work from my belly to just above that damn cupcake. His warm breath and the scruff on his jaw tickles my skin. I’m losing my mind. I want him inside me. Need him to fill me. I can barely stand to look at him, but I can’t tear my gaze away. He owns me completely. All of me. Without him having to ask. Without words.

He shifts onto his knees when he reaches the cupcake. Strips off his shirt and licks his lips as he looks at me. Picking up the cupcake he smears a little icing on my bottom lip before drawing it into his mouth. I kiss him back, my hips frantically humping the air now that I’m free to move. I can’t get enough of him.

When he pulls away, he dips his fingers into the frosting again and spreads it along the outside of my pussy. He sets the miniature cake aside on the bedside table, and I cry out as his tongue lashes across my seam, slowly at first, while he licks up the buttercream he smeared there. Only after it’s all gone does he thrust his tongue into my entrance and suck my clit. I come apart immediately, an orgasm rocking me.

I want more. “I need you inside me.”

He takes a moment to strip out of his pants and boxer briefs before he’s back between my legs. His mouth and jaw glisten with my arousal and I taste the sweetness as he fills me. We move slowly, locked together, never taking our gazes off each other. His is so serious, filled with care and longing. It prickles my skin, and warms deep inside my core. Everywhere I feel him is a part of me that belongs only to him, and he’s making sure I can sense him everywhere.

My thighs start to tingle, and he grips my ass with one hand to push deeper. He strokes until dark spots float in front of my eyes as I come apart. Everything inside me clings to him, holding him while my inner walls pulse around his cock until he fills me with his cum. Even after that we don’t move while he kisses me and brushes my hair out of my face. And when we do shift, it’s only onto our sides where he pulls me into his arms and holds me tight. Neither of us speaks for a while. It just doesn’t seem like a moment that needs more than the noise of our beating hearts.

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