Page 21 of Sweetly Yours

“You’re incredible,” I murmur against her lips, my voice rough with restraint. “Do you know that?”

Her hands grip my shoulders, her nails digging in slightly, and the way her body responds to me—soft, eager, and full of trust—makes me want to give her everything she’s ever wanted.

I kiss her deeply, letting my hands roam higher, inching closer to her pussy.

Her eyes flutter open, meeting mine, filled with a mix of longing and hesitation. “You’re sure?” I murmur, my voice rough with desire.

“Yes,” she whispers, the sound almost swallowed by the crackle of the fire.

My hand slips under the hem of her dress, pushing it up to reveal her panties, soft and delicate. I glide my thumb over the fabric, feeling the heat radiating from her core, and she lets out a soft, needy whimper. The sound nearly undoes me.

I slip her panties to the side, exposing her wet pussy to the cool air. She gasps as I trace my finger along her wet folds.

“Brock,” she whispers, her voice trembling, filled with need.

I lean down, capturing her lips again, deepening the kiss as I circle her clit, teasing her. Her hips rock against my hand, seeking more, and I finally press a finger into her, feeling her walls clench around me.

She moans into my mouth, her hands gripping my shoulders as I move inside her, slow and deliberate. Each stroke sends a shiver through her body, her breath hitching as I add a second finger, curling them to find that spot that makes her gasp. Her nails dig into my back, her body arching against me as the tension in her builds.

“You feel amazing,” I murmur against her lips, my voice low and thick. “So perfect.”

Her response is a soft cry as her body tightens around my fingers, her thighs trembling. I move my thumb to her clit,circling it gently, and her hips buck against my hand. The sight of her, lost in pleasure, is enough to make me forget everything but her.

She grips me tighter, her head falling back as she comes, her soft cries filling the room. I don’t stop, drawing out her pleasure until she’s trembling beneath me, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

When her body finally relaxes, I pull my hand away, brushing her hair from her face and kissing her forehead. Her eyes flutter open, hazy with satisfaction, and she smiles up at me, her cheeks flushed.

I withdraw my fingers slowly, savoring the feel of her warmth and softness, and as she watches me, her lips parted, I lift my hand to my mouth. My eyes remain locked on hers as I press the fingers that were inside her to my lips, tasting her on my skin.

The rich, intimate flavor of her sends a jolt of heat through me, my body tightening with renewed hunger. Her breath catches as she watches, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red. “Brock,” she whispers, her voice trembling, but whether from embarrassment or excitement, I can’t tell—and it doesn’t matter.

“You’re perfect,” I murmur, letting her taste linger on my tongue as I lean closer, brushing my lips against hers. She lets out a soft, surprised gasp, her hands finding their way to my chest.

Her lips part under mine, and I deepen the kiss, letting her taste herself on my mouth. It’s a slow, deliberate connection—one that makes her whimper softly, her body shifting closer, seeking more.

I press my forehead to hers when I finally pull back, my hand cupping her cheek. “I’ll never get enough of you,” I say, my voice low, barely a whisper.

Her lashes flutter, and she smiles shyly, biting her lip as her fingers trace the line of my jaw. “Then don’t,” she says softly, the blush on her cheeks only making her more irresistible.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

WILLOW

The morning rush is finally slowing down, and the bakery smells like heaven—a mix of cinnamon, vanilla, and freshly brewed coffee. The last batch of croissants are cooling on the counter as June leans against it, sipping a latte I made for her.

“So,” she says, dragging out the word with a sly smile that tells me she’s about to dig for details. “How’s it going with Brock?”

I glance at the door to make sure we’re alone, then roll my eyes. “You already know how it’s going. You text me more about him than I do.”

“Not possible,” she says, waving me off. “But come on, I need updates. What’s he like? Is he sweet? Broody? Secretly a terrible kisser?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “He’s... sweet. Really sweet, actually. And definitely not a terrible kisser.”

June raises her eyebrows, intrigued. “Good to know. And what’s with the picture he posted last night? The one of youtwo at dinner, calling you his girlfriend. You’re officially Insta-official now, huh?”

My cheeks heat instantly. “He did what?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb. You saw it,” she teases, taking another sip of her latte. “He captioned it something like, ‘Dinner with my girl.’ It was disgustingly adorable.”

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