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He chuckles, a dark, masculine sound. “You ain’t ever gettin’ those back.”

His fingers dive south. I drop the spatula when he finds me, parting me with his first and second fingers. Then he slips one of those fingers inside, moving easily through my slickness.

He grunts. “Wet already. You gotta let me take care of this.”

I turn off the burner. Let out a little moan when his other hand slips inside my shirt and he kneads my breast, flicking my nipple with his thumb. Arousal slices through my center. He circles his finger over my clit.

My legs begin to shake.

“You sore?” he asks against my neck.

I nod. “A little. But not enough to?—”

Before I know what’s happening, he’s spinning me around and lifting me onto the countertop beside the stove. The motion scatters the pair of plates and silverware I set out, sending them across the counter, but Cash doesn’t seem to mind.

Instead, he lifts his shirt over my head and tosses it aside. His gaze darkens as it trails over my naked body, stopping to linger on my tits. He reaches out and takes one in his hand.

He frowns when he glances at my wrists. “Aw, honey, I’m so sorry.” He takes them in his hands. “This hurt? I feel fucking awful?—”

“I’m fine. I liked it.”

His eyes flicker. “Course you did.”

“Seriously, Cash, I’m okay.”

In reply, he brings one wrist to his lips and kisses the bruises there. Does the same with the other wrist.

When he’s done, he steps forward, settling himself between my legs. Then he tilts his head and leans in.

His kiss is soft but hot. It’s the kind of kiss you can’t help but fall into. One that makes your head spin and your heartsing, a poignant reminder of the sweetness of being alive and being here. Right now. In this kitchen, with this man.

I glide my hands up his chest before wrapping my arms around his neck and bracketing his hips with my knees, pulling him closer. He tastes like toothpaste and smells like him, that clean, crisp soap. Hint of detergent, probably from the sheets.

Need thumps inside my skin, a growing beat that gathers between my legs. Cash reaches down to gently stroke my clit with his thumb. Desire streaks through my core, and I roll my hips into his touch.

I need him. Now. I don’t know if this is the first and last time I’ll get to have morning sex with Cash, and I’m not about to waste any time.

I glide my hands down his sides, marveling at the thick bulges and slopes of his body.

He growls into my mouth when I hook my fingers into the waistband of his sweats. I pull them down, his cock jutting against my hand. I wrap my fingers around him, firming my grip how he likes before giving him a tug.

He’s enormous and hot, heavy with need. I use my thumb to swirl his pre-cum over his tip. He growls again. His thumb works faster over my clit, his tongue licking into my mouth.

A blinding, beautiful pressure fills me, the need for release making me short of breath. I dig my other hand into the hair at Cash’s nape and hold on, squeezing my eyes shut as I’m overcome by searing sensation.

I come. Cash’s name is on my lips as I whimper, powerless against the onslaught. Then he’s taking himself in his hand and he’s putting himself inside me, the pressure enormous as his thick head pushes forward.

I’m still coming when he glides inside me on a smooth, deep thrust. All the sensation—the pressure, the pain, the release, the tenderness—it’s overwhelming. I grab at Cash, my legs shaking, and he responds by hooking an arm aroundmy waist and pulling me to him, holding me up while he rocks into me. He holds meclose, close enough that I’m able to bury my head in his neck.

His warmth, his strength, is the comfort I didn’t know I needed.

“I got you, honey,” he murmurs against my cheek. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Cash kisses my nose, my chin. My lips and my forehead.

Emotion clogs my windpipe. I have never felt…lessusedor more cared for in my entire life.

My orgasm lingers, stoked to continuous life by Cash’s thrusts. He keeps an even, steady pace. The soreness between my legs dissipates, pleasure rising in its wake.