Page 63 of Bartholomew
“Woman, be still and let me dry you off,” he chuckled. “I may be a sex god, but four times in one night is pushing it, even for me.”
I had the decency to blush. He was right. He had climaxed not once or twice, butthreetimes already. It was mind-boggling. It was incredible.
Finally dry, Ollie wrapped the towel around my back, pulling me close to him and kissing the tip of my nose.
“So, what now?” I asked quietly, happy to stay in this perfect little bubble for as long as I was allowed to.
“Now? Now it’s time for food,” he almost growled, with that spark of humor lighting up his eyes once again.
“Food?” I questioned, confused.
“Now, we cook!” With that, he took my hand and led me out of the bathroom, through our bedroom, and right out into the hallway.
Butt-naked.
“Ollie!” I hissed, pulling him back.
“What? What is it?” he asked, concern etched on his face.
“We are naked!” I hissed again, embarrassed as I stood there in the hallway in such a state.
“Oh! Well, no, we aren’t. Not technically,” he teased, gesturing to the towel loosely held around my naked form.
“Semantics, Ollie, and you know it. We are not, in fact, both naked, but we —”
I didn’t get a chance to even finish my thought before he took hold of the towel and yanked it away from my body.
“Now we are both naked,” he smiled, turning, and waltzing into the kitchen, naked as a jaybird.
“You are insane, Bartholomew Temple. Simply insane,” I replied, unable to hold back my smile. It was hard to be serious when his cute butt was giving me quite the show as he walked away from me.
“You like it, firefly,” he teased. “Now get that sexy ass in here so we can cook!”
I followed him into the kitchen, watching as he gathered a few items together.
“What are we cooking now?” I asked, my arms crossed over my breasts, more in modesty than in frustration.
“Nothing too fancy, just a small charcuterie board to fill our bellies before we head back to bed,” he replied, grabbing the remote from the counter and turning on those speakers once more. “Dance with me, my delightful — and oh, so delicious — Delilah.”
He pulled me into his arms, both of us naked as the day we were born, and danced with me.
“I like having you against me,” he whispered into my ear. I blushed, nuzzling into his collarbone.
“I like being close to you, Ollie,” I murmured in response. When the song ended, he lifted me, much to my chagrin, and set me up on the countertop.
“This is the perfect spot for you while I prepare the food,” he commented, immediately pilfering the refrigerator for items to include on our tray.
“Oh, try this!” he exclaimed excitedly, holding out a raspberry for me to taste. The berry slipped into my mouth, and I chewed slowly, letting the juice burst across my tongue. He watched me with careful eyes. “Now try it this way.”
He handed me a berry, gesturing for me to hold it out for him to taste. He took my wrist in his hand, holding me steady as he wrapped his lips around my fingers. His tongue coiled around the berry, pulling it into his mouth slowly, sensually. All the while, his eyes stayed locked on mine.
I gulped audibly. The sexual tension in the room was palpable.
“Try again,” he urged, handing me another berry to taste. This time I took his lessons to heart. I took his wrist in both of my hands, pulling him to my lips. My eyes lowered as I wrapped my tongue around the berry, but at the last moment, I looked up at him through my lashes, whimpering softly as the flavor burst onto my tongue.
“Fucking hell, that makes me want to put you on your knees and make you taste me, firefly,” he groaned.
“That makes me want to taste you, to make you scream my name again,” I admitted quite audaciously, if I did say so myself.
