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I stand under the eaves, steam rising off the coffee cradled in my palm, and look out over the sweet and tidy gardens that rim her backyard. I’m hard pressed to understand how she can clean up such vile messes while creating such beauty.

Deep inside, I want to tell her to quit. Tell her to walk away from the wet work and do what makes her happy.

She was so upset over the prospect of ruining Christophe’s wedding, babbling about who would have to clean up her remains when the time came, whether they would do a good job. And then her musings turned to how she would be taken out.

We don’t lead normal lives. Our thought processes and choices are different from the rest of the world’s.

I want to hold her close, tell her to focus on gardening and landscape design, maybe start doing some elite floral design. She doubted her abilities going into the wedding flowers but, snakes aside, they were stunning.

Her book. She could fully immerse herself in her passion project and give her full attention to the book she so coyly acts like she’s not working on.

My lungs deflate as I picture what trying to tell Jess what to do would actually look like. Not good. Volatile. Incendiary.

She likely would not react well at all.

That’s the bottom line.

“Checking out my petals or produce?” Jess’s voice is raspy with sleep and all kinds of sexy.

“Thoroughly inspected your petals on multiple occasions.” This level of flirting doesn’t come naturally for me the way it does for Jess. But the curve of her lips and soft crinkle at the corner of her eyes make it look like I’m doing okay.

I set my demitasse on the small table and pull her body to mine. Her curves fit perfectly, and I dip my head to take her mouth and taste her.

Sweet and sultry. Delicious.

I cup her ass and lift, wrapping her legs around my waist. The shorts and tank top she’s wearing look like they’re ready for the rag bin, threadbare and see-through. I slide my hand down, swiping my fingers through her core.

“You’re wet.” One finger trails along those petals, plunging inside her.

The second finger has her arching into me and moaning.

“Think I’m always wet for you,” she mumbles, biting along my jawline. “You should fuck me out here. In the garden. Rain falling all around us.”

“What’ll your neighbors think?”

“I can assure you, I don’t care in the least.”

My dick is game. Jess is grinding on my fingers, and she’ll probably be more receptive to suggestions regarding her work after another orgasm. Or three.

So I free my cock and slide her down my shaft.

“God, Eddie, you feel so good. So full, so… oh, God… yes…” She tries to buck and rock, to swivel her hips, but I have a firm grasp on those hips and a hell of a lot more control over what’s happening than she does.

“Let me.” I lift and lower her, moving her how I want, how I need her. I gather her wetness on my pointer finger and slide it back. I haven’t played with her pretty little asshole yet. “Can I have this?” I ask circling the tight ring of muscle.

Jess chuckles low. “Not with that dick. There’s no way that thing would fit.”

Little fool. With the right preparation, it’ll fit just fine. But that goes on that list of things for another day. For now, I’m satisfied sliding just my finger into her tight hole.

“Oh my… shit. Yes… yess… Oh fuck…” Jess chants her litany as I roll my hips and fuck her until she comes undone taking me right over the edge with her.

“That was delightful,” she proclaims primly. Her contented sigh wraps around my heart in a way I don’t think I’ve ever experienced.

Not ready to examine what that means, I bury my face in her sleep-mussed hair and let my heart rate calm. When I can breathe normally, I say, “Tea is delightful, Jess. A sunny day. What we just did is dirty and decadent”—I grind my hips into her to highlight my point—“and decidedly not delightful.”

She laughs, and I feel it everywhere. “Silly Mr. Yore. You know I’d much rather dance in the rain, feeling every drop lovingly caress my skin. That I thrive in the shadows of little black rain clouds. Decadent and dirty are my delightful. And so are you.”

With my dick still firmly lodged inside her, I carry her through the door and into the house. My intent is to clean her up, maybe shower though that will likely lead to another handful of orgasms, and then cook her breakfast for a change.