Page 105 of Forty, Flirty & Fake-ly Yours

I don't make her wait any longer. My tongue finds her clit and circles its edges slowly. She cries out, her body jerking as I lick and lay my tongue across the tiny bundle of nerves.

"Oh God, Grayson," she moans, her hands fisting in my hair. "I'm so close."

I double my efforts, my tongue and fingers working in tandem to bring the beautiful woman in my arms to the brink of ecstasy. She sucks in a stuttered breath as she comes hard, her juices coating my tongue.

As for me…

I lap up every last drop, my cock pulsing, throbbing, nearly aching with the need to be inside of the only woman who makes me feel alive.

I stand up, my body pressing against hers as I capture her lips in an angled kiss, and Roz moans. Her taste is still lingering on my tongue as I lift her up, her legs wrapping around my waist and trapping me between her soft thighs.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I need to be inside you," I grit out, each word raspy.

"Yes," she pants, her nails carving crescent moons into my shoulders. "Please, Grayson. I need you too."

It’s the only thing I need to hear, as I wrap one hand around my hard cock and slide it between her legs. I wait to capture her gaze, and Roz nods, just as I thrust inside her with a strangled groan.

The noise she makes once I’m inside her is animalistic—unnatural. And it’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.

“Jesus, Roz,” I huff out, “are you trying to kill me?”

“Don’t die,” she pants, her hips moving in time with mine. “Before we can finish.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“Ah, thank you. Now…Please, Grayson. More."

I comply, my hips moving faster, my cock sliding in and out of her with ease.

"Oh God, Grayson. I’m going to…going to come. Please don't stop."

I don't. I keep moving, my hips thrusting faster and harder as I chase my own release. I can feel her body twisting, tightening. Her muscles clench around me as she comes hard, squeezing me more snug than a vice.

I follow her over the edge, my dick pistoning and pulsating as I spill myself inside her. I hold Roz close, kissing her soft, slightly salty skin.

When we finally come down from our high, I press a single soft kiss to her lips. “Do you know how much I fucking love you, Ms. Carpenter?”

She smiles, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Apparently enough for you to start cursing. I love it when you swear, Mr. Dixon.” Her mouth brushes against mine. “And I love you too, Grayson. More than you'll ever know."

When we finally pull away, her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are bright. "We should probably get back out there," she says, her voice breathless.

"Probably," I agree, my thumb sliding along the edge of her swollen lips. "But I'm not ready to share you just yet."

And the truth of it is: I’m not. Not at all.

Because when you find the person who makes you realize that nothing—not even Sunday dinners—should be perfect and predictable, you hold on tight.

And I plan on doing just that for the rest of our lives.

When Roz and I do finally emerge from the pantry, we're met with a scene that's even more chaotic than when we left it.

The dove is now perched on Nonna Flora's head, cooing softly, while my mother is being fanned by Connor's grandmother, who is also trying to feed her risotto from a spoon.

Dani is in a heated discussion with Marvin, who is now draped in a tablecloth like a makeshift toga, while James looks on in bewilderment. Mia, Mac, and Alex are now performing a full-blown K-pop routine in the living room, complete with synchronized dance moves.

Natasha and Olivia are still huddled in a corner, and Derek and Mark are now arguing about hospital politics, while Bianca is trying to teach the dove to sing "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star."

Roz looks up at me. "Should we... intervene?"

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