AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Her cheeks burn so pink that I know they’d be hot to the touch, but she looks as turned-on as she does scandalized.
“Do you like the idea of me tasting myself from your pussy?” I taunt.
It only takes her a moment to respond, then she nods.
Pushing two fingers back into her, I pull them out, then offer them to her. “Taste.”
This isn’t the first time I’ve pushed my cum-soaked fingers into her mouth, but this time I’m not forcing her, I’m offering them to her. When she lifts her head off the pillow and sucks my fingers into her mouth, it takes everything in me not to growl, but instead I watch her expression as she sucks the taste from my skin. “You’re fucking perfect. My perfect, good girl.”
When she releases my fingers with a pop, I smirk and arch an eyebrow.
“We do…taste good,” she whispers, barely loud enough for me to hear.
I press a hot, fast kiss to her lips then scoop her into my arms and lift both of us out of bed. “I need to feed you, anything else I want can wait till later.”
Carrying her straight into the bathroom, I lower her to her feet beside the toilet. “Pee.”
Instead of giving her the chance to protest my presence, I turn my back to her and reach into the shower. The moment I’m not watching, she gets on with her business and I pretend to ignore her while smiling to myself that she’s embarrassed about me seeing her pee, but more than happy to let me touch, lick, and fuck her.
I don’t have to order her to get in the shower with me, she simply steps in beside me, letting me take charge as I quickly wash us both. Once we’re done, I wrap her in a huge towel, take her hand, and lead her to the closet. Instead of picking out clothes, I grab a pair of basketball shorts for me and one of my T-shirts for her.
The shorts do nothing to hide my hard cock, but I’m always hard around Etta, so I don’t bother to try to pretend I don’t always want her. She looks fucking adorable in my shirt. It’s huge on her, hanging well past her knees, the collar slipping off her shoulder. She looks like a kid trying to wear her parents’ clothes, and I can’t help chuckling.
“I need to wear my own stuff,” she protests, reaching for the hem to pull my shirt up.
“No, leave it, you look too fucking cute.” I smile, lifting her up until she’s high enough I can kiss her.
Instead of trying to get down, she wraps her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck and clings to me like she never wants to let go.
“I love you,” I whisper against her lips, knowing she won’t say it back but hoping for the first time, like she might actually feel it.
Not letting her go, I carry her downstairs and sit her on the counter while I make smashed avocado, poached eggs, toast, and pico de gallo. We eat at the breakfast bar, our stools turned to face each other, and for the very first time, Etta doesn’t protest the amount of food on her plate. Instead, she eats almost everything, sighing appreciatively once she’s finished.
“That was so good, thank you,” she says, rubbing her stomach.
“Is it weird that I find watching you eat the food I’ve cooked for you really fucking hot?”
“Yes,” she says with a tinkling giggle.
Shrugging my shoulders, I slip down from the stool and reach for her plate.
“I can clean up,” she says quickly.
“Or you could stay there while I do it,” I say, slipping a small amount of steel into my voice that has her pulling her arms that were reaching for the silverware back into her chest.
“If we’re hosting tomorrow, we should go get meat for the barbecue…” My words trail off, and I sigh to myself, realizing that I’ve told my team and the Barnetts that we’re hosting a barbecue when my wife doesn’t like the smell of cooking meat. “Fuck,” I hiss.
“It’s fine. Just because I don’t eat meat, I don’t have a problem with others eating it.”
“Yeah, but you don’t like the smell of it cooking.”
“I’ll be fine outside, it’s more when it’s inside and I can’t get away from the smell. But even then, I’ll cope, I won’t fall apart just because I don’t like how something smells.”
“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable at a party that’s celebrating you,” I growl.
“I’ll be uncomfortable anyway. Telling Tori and Nero and seeing their reaction was hard enough, seeing how a whole group of people react to finding out that we’re stepsiblings all at once is going to be mortifying.”
“We’re not stepsiblings,” I snarl angrily.
