Page 166 of With a Cherry On Top

It hits me when she bites her bottom lip and manages to keep her eyes on me for a couple of seconds.

I think I’m in love with her.

No, IknowI’m in love with her.

“Mine.” I grind against her. “Say it.”

“I’m yours, Chef.”

Yes, she fucking is.

Her moans turn loud and desperate as I pound into her over and over again. The sound of our bodies slamming together echoes off the kitchen walls, mingling with the slick sound of me sliding in and out of her drenched pussy.

“I’m not stopping until you’re shaking,” I say, every flutter of her walls around me making me more and more daring. “Until you’re wrecked, Charlotte.”

She gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders like she’s trying to claw her way inside me.

“You’re going to take it, aren’t you?” I push her legs up, her knees pressed to her chest, and bottom out inside her. The new position is even better, and her back arches off the counter as I hit that sweet spot inside her.

“Y-yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Chef.”

So fucking hot. My climax is building, coiling in my stomach as she tightens around me, and I won’t last much longer. She said no man has ever made her come this way, but I’m also theonly man she kisses, the only one she dates, and I’m nothing if not motivated.

I reach down between us to rub circles on her clit with my thumb, and her eyes widen, her breath caught in her throat at the added stimulation. When her walls clench tightly around me, I can tell she’s close too.

“Breathe, baby,” I growl. “Breathe while you come all over my cock.”

A long exhale that turns into a loud whine. “I’m coming. Aaron—I’m coming, I’m—” she sobs, and once she sucks me in deeper, I’m done for. Watching her come around my cock is pure poetry, a piece of art, a thing of true beauty. I can’t stop staring, and the heat feels like it might rip me apart.

My hips thrust erratically, every muscle in my body tensing as I empty myself inside her and grunt out her name again and again.

I collapse on top of her with a long groan, unable to hold myself up any longer.

Fuck.

Fuck, this is it. She isit.

I keep my forehead against her chest, lips kissing whatever skin I find in my haze. It’s not enough, so I reach up with both hands, tracing my fingers down her arms.

“You good?”

“Uh-huh,” she says in a breathy voice.

“Sure?”

“I love you,” she says, her hand buried in my hair.

Did she just . . . say she loves me?

I look up and she swallows, her lashes fluttering. “I do. And I don’t need you to say it back. I just want you to know that I’m in love with you. You made it really easy, even for me.”

Again, my heart stutters.

She said she loves me.