Page 28 of The Mechanics of Broomstick Racing

She had to admit—she liked this part slow. She felt every inch of him fill her, and after each of her moans or whimpers, Neil paused and savored the moment with her. Bracing herself against the shower wall so she could push back against him, she soon realized, as he had in the shop, he wouldn’t let her set the pace. His strokes were deep but slow, and she could not handle not having control anymore.

“I want to change positions,” she said, and he obeyed immediately. She shut the water off and pushed him out of the shower, right past the towels he’d found for them, and shoved him down on her bed.

She straddled his lap, slid down on his length, and rode him at the speed she wanted. “Do not come until I do,” she ordered. She took his hands, unfisting them from her bedsheets, and placed them on her hips.

“Fuck, Zephyr. I—”

“No excuses. Look at me.”

He did, and gods, how she enjoyed seeing those blue eyes so undone. Helpless. All for her. He called her beautiful and a torment, and she agreed with both assessments. She delighted in keeping him right on the edge. He pleaded with her, but his sentences came out half-scrambled and needy.

“You already knew I like teasing you,” she reminded him. “I’m sure you imagined this—exactly like this.”

“More or less,” he muttered. “You weren’t so bossy in my imagination.”

“And do you like it, Neil?”

He paused. “I do,” he admitted.

It was a quiet confession, and the vulnerability of it, and a new angle, brought her falling over the edge she’d been riding. She clenched around him, struggling to keep pace as she came. He followed right after, his hands bruising her hips. She’d find his marks on her later, and she looked forward to it.

She dismounted to head to the restroom, and when she returned, Neil had found her salve. He held the jar aloft and pointed to her bed. “Lie down and let me know if I miss anything.”

He remembered? He wasn’t already asleep? Were her standards really low, or was Neil really great? Probably, sadly, it was a bit of both. “It’s mostly my back. It’s hard to reach, even when I actually try.” She got face down on her bed and braced for the cold salve.

He worked quietly, rubbing in the salve with a soothing massage. She hummed, her eyes fluttering closed. She’d be asleep soon if he kept that up.

“I was hoping for thunder,” she mumbled.

His massage paused. “Thunder?”

“When you came.”

“When I think you can’t be any more ridiculous, you outdo yourself.” His need pressed against her again, and he coughed. “Sorry, but if you had my view, you’d understand.”

“It’s okay,” she mumbled. She shifted, raising her hips as she buried her face in her pillow. “You can go slow this time.”

They reunited once more, and he lay next to her when they finished. Neil asked softly, “Can I—”

She interrupted, “Go to sleep, Neil. You can mow my lawn in the morning.”

Chapter 14

Her alarm woke both of them, and Zephyr groaned as she threw the worn-soft quilt over their heads to escape her responsibilities. “I used to love getting up at the butt crack of dawn. What happened?”

Neil was awake, too, and peered at her through the darkness of their cover. “It’s because we’re old now.” When she mumbled half a hex in response, he tore the quilt away and interrupted her sleepy incantation. “No cursing, and I can’t have you showing up late today. I’m expecting a delivery, and it’s already been delayed twice.”

Zephyr bopped him with her pillow. “I let you sleep here and this is the thanks I get?”

“You made it very clear you only let me sleep here so I could do yardwork.”

“And I meant that. I also don’t own a lawnmower, so you’ll have to figure that out.”

He laughed, grabbing her hips to drag her underneath him, possibly guaranteeing a late delivery, when her doorbell rang.

“That thing still works?” Zephyr asked, frowning. She picked up her phone, checking the time and looking for any missed calls. Nothing. “Whoever that is, I’m sicking Dale on them.”

“Could be a nosy neighbor. Plenty of those in Pumpkin Hollow.” Neil squeezed her hips once, hard, before letting her go. “Maybe they want to watch my walk of shame.”