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“You’re starting dinner now?” I peeked over her shoulder into the slowly simmering pot and inhaled what was obviously going to be an amazing herb-filled sauce.
She turned back to stir in some basil leaves. “I am. I learned this recipe for Fettuccini Pomodoro while I was in Italy, and I fell in love with it.” She leaned back into my chest. “Since we have tonight to ourselves, I wanted to do something nice.”
Well, damn. Other than when I went home for Thanksgiving two years ago, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a woman prepare a home-cooked meal for me. Tricia wasn’t much of a cook, so dinners back then typically consisted of store-bought frozen meals, Hamburger Helper, or I grilled. Not that I’m hard to please—MREs on the battlefield made me pretty fucking happy to eat anything on a dining room table with someone who didn’t stand to piss.
Olivia put the lid on the pot and turned to look up at me with soft, inquisitive eyes. “Is that okay? Would you rather go out? Or did you have other plans?”
I cupped her hip. “Other plans? I’m with you like white on rice, remember?” I leaned down and nuzzled my nose along the side of hers. “And no, I don’t want to go out. This is perfect. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in ages. Much less one this nice.”
Her hands wound around my neck as she leaned into me. “Really?”
“Really. Thank you for going to all this trouble.” I whispered a kiss along her cheekbone, then another on her temple. “It’s sweet.”
I felt her smile. “It’s no trouble. It’s dinner.”
“Well, still...” I tugged her away from the stove and picked her up so she was perched on the countertop.
She automatically opened up and embraced me between her thighs, winding her arms around my neck as I leaned in to scent her throat, then ran my tongue and teeth along her collarbone. She let out a dreamy sigh, letting her head fall back, opening to me fully as I ravished her neck and upper chest, my hands deftly finding the tie at her waist. It easily came undone, and the robe slid open, where I found her naked underneath.
“Damn, baby,” I groaned against her flesh just before I took a taut nipple into my mouth.
She gasped and forked her fingers through my hair to hold me tight in place, arching her back to offer me more.
And I did, gorging on both breasts and nipples until she was whimpering my name, begging wordlessly. I glanced up at her flushed face. The way her eyes were closed in pleasure, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as if she was trying not to cry out... she was like a goddess, and I was undone.
Wrecked for this woman, I reached down and spread her thighs farther apart.
Her eyes shot open to meet mine as I caressed her with first one finger, then two. She bucked against me, silently asking for more, so I buried them deep, making her moan and clutch at my shoulders. “Oh... fuck.”
“You like?” I gritted, adding my thumb to circle her clit.
She made a low groan that I took as a yes, then I leaned down to take a nipple back into my mouth as I pumped harder into her.
Her groans became mews and she smacked her head on the cabinet. “Justin... please... more...” She was begging. “I need you.” Her hips gyrated on my hand, but her eyes pleaded with me for my cock.
I pulled my fingers out and scooped her off the counter. I held her up while she gained her bearings on wobbly feet, licking my fingers clean as she watched with lusty eyes. Before she could say a word, I led her two steps to the dining table, loving how her silky robe was falling off her shoulders and she didn’t seem to notice or care.
I spun her around until she faced the table and bent her over, placing her hands on the tabletop, lacing mine over hers, so I was bent over her. “You want me?” I gritted in her ear.
She turned to look at me over her shoulder. “Please.”
“I’m all yours, baby.”
I slid her robe up to showcase her perfect little ass as I undid my jeans and let my cock free, pumping it a few times in my hand as I took her in like this, bent over for me. I ran a hand up her spine to grip her hair. “You are so beautiful. I can’t believe I get to touch you like this.”
She wiggled impatiently. “Justin, please,” she whispered.
I wasted no more time. I sank home in one deep, hard thrust, burying myself balls deep, making us both cry out. She gripped the table and dropped her head as I grabbed her hips with a fierce hold. I slowly pulled out, then pushed back in, savoring the feel of her, but she pressed herself backward.
“Don’t be gentle,” she begged. “You make me forget everything but you.”
Something in my chest cracked at her words. She’d been through so much—hell, I’d been through so much. Maybe that’s why it felt like our souls recognized each other. It was our pain that connected us. And our coming together like this was fated. It was healing us. And I wanted nothing more than to help her forget.
I leaned down and planted a kiss between her shoulder blades. “Hang on, baby.”
She turned her head to the side so I could see her bite her lip as she nodded.
Then I began to thrust and pound and pour every bit of energy I had into trying to purge the ugliness from both of us. She gave as good as she got, writhing and moaning and letting me know I was all she could feel. When I reached around and found her clit, she broke free with a quivering cry, my name on her lips, and I’d swear in that moment, I forgot too.