Page 40

TWENTY-FIVE

AUGUSTE

Man, my arms are fucking whipped from beating the egg whites for Court’s dessert. I’ve had strengthening workouts more gentle than this shit. Almost forty minutes of working the mix and my pulse is racing, sweat is beading on my forehead, and my arms are officially dead.

Still, I’d keep going just to keep Court squirming next to me. Her eyes are flitting between each of my arms, tracing the veins that are throbbing beneath my skin. Stare all hooded and lusty along with the flush of red that’s spreading to the tips of her ears.

“Yep, I think they’re done,” she croaks with an audible swallow.

“Are you sure? I can keep going.” I might die, but it’s worth every second that she spends drooling over me.

Honestly, I’m not that kind of guy that thrives from women’s attention. Being a pro hockey player has desensitized me from it. It’s more like a side effect than a highlight. Most of the time it’s awkward and sometimes creepy as hell.

But Courtney’s attention… Yeah, I fucking love it.

It feels good when she watches me. Bright blue eyes fluttering with every thought that runs through her head. About me. It’s as though I’m living in her head, and I like that. I like the thought of being inside her. Living inside her.

And so does my dick… way too fucking much.

I lower the large bowl of glossy egg whites down my stomach to block my reaction to her attention as Court draws closer to take a peek.

“They look perfect,” she says keeping her eyes on the bowl .

They look yummy like marshmallow fluff. I fucking love that stuff. It’s my kryptonite.

Dunking my finger in the mix, I bring it to my lips only to pause when Court’s eyes lower back down to the bowl.

What? No, look back up. Look at me .

Courtney doesn’t. So I smoosh my finger onto her nose, and enjoy every second of her glare when it meets my grin.

Fuck me. This girl is stunning. Like, I just want to eat her up. Every fucking inch of her skin and double fuck me… my dick is so goddamn hard I can’t think straight when she grumbles, “What was that for?”

“I wanted you to look at me.”

“Excuse me?” Her dark, perfectly shaped brow cocks.

“I like your eyes on me, Princess.”

Both brows hitch with the cant of her face. A grin tugs at her lips as she croons, “Needy much, Auggie ?” Then she makes a show of swiping the meringue mix off her nose and licking it off her finger while holding my stare.

What a fucking tease.

I love it. My cock is definitely on board. My balls… blue is not their color.

With a lick of her lips, Courtney peels the bowl from my hands. Spinning on her heels, she sashays to the other side of the kitchen where she’s prepped a piping bag and cookie sheet to bake the meringues.

“Are you going to stand there staring or are you helping?”

“Depends, are you done teasing?” Not that I want her to stop. I don’t. I’m just obsessed with the flush that glows on her cheeks and all down her throat to her chest when I turn the tables.

With a shrug, Courtney focuses back on the bowl. “If you can’t take the heat?—”

Her words stop the instant I step behind her and pluck the whisk from the bowl and shake it off firmly. There’s enough spatter that it covers her chest and the bottom half of her face in glossy white freckles.

Holy mother of all fucking visuals .

I swallow, putting the whisk down on the spare parchment and grabbing the prepped piping bag.

My arms relocked around her, my front pressed to her back.

And yeah, it’s torture. Every wiggle of her hips deepens her breaths.

Every roll of her toes that has the curve of her ass rubbing up and down my aching bulge.

“Fill it up.” The command is hoarse and short.

Courtney nods, using the spatula on the side to sweep the meringue mix into the bag. Her hands are shaking so hard that it’s going all over the back of my hands.

Tightening my arms around her waist, I step completely flush to her at the same time as she wriggles deeper into me. The move doesn’t steady her one bit.

A shallow gasp vibrates through her body when I pin her to the edge of the counter, turning into a whimper as I bury my face in her hair and inhale her scent all the way into my lungs.

The sweet burn never gets old.

Same way the drum of her erratic pulse colliding with mine always lights me up. A push and pull that accelerates the heat of her scent taking over my lungs into an all out inferno pounding through my veins.

“Like that, Snow? When I suck you all the way into my chest?” The spatula drops from her hand into the bowl, and as I twist the bag shut, I pull another hit of her until my lungs are so full, they might burst.

I hold it in, savoring every nuance. I can’t get enough of her.

“I fucking love living inside here.” I skim my lips along her temple. “Inside your thoughts…”

Her head tips back on my chest. Tight face freckled with the mixture as wide eyes flash to mine.

All shades of blue swirling together, begging me to kiss her like they have been all damn day.

Problem is, the moment I do, I won’t be able to stop.

And I need her to be on the same page. I need Courtney to be ready for me.

“Auguste,” she murmurs—breathy and needy.

“Finish up, Court,” I say, taking each of her hands in turn and wrapping them around the bag.

“What are you doing?” The choked sound of her voice along with the visual of the spattered mixture on her face is doing things to my body that make it impossible to control the urge to rock into her.

When I do, her hips rotate, grinding her ass into my hard cock.

“Helping,” I reply past the thick clench of my throat.

I move the baking sheet in front of us and cover her hands with mine while she pipes puck sized disks.

She’s shaking. I’m shaking. The disks are turning into scrappy blobs by the time the bag is empty and it’s just my sticky hands clasped around hers.

A whole lot of need twisted around us, and the unrelenting urge to taste… devour and own. To claim.

“Put it in the oven, Courtney.”

As I release her hands, she picks up the tray and with a trembling breath sidesteps me.

At this point, I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.

Except for the fact that I’m standing here.

Waiting for her to return. I can’t even look at her.

Because if I do, the whole fucking universe will combust around me. Us.

I swear to God there isn’t a single drop of blood left in my upper body when Courtney pushes between me and the counter again. This time she’s facing me and her goddamn pretty eyes are dark and feral, deep, roiling pools of lust pulling me under.

“I need you to kiss me now,” she says.

“Cour—”

She silences me with her warm, sticky finger. “Let me rephrase. You are going to kiss me, Auguste Broussard, or so help me God…”

Fuck it.

We have time. Our family is always late for everything.

I open my mouth, sucking in a deep breath so I don’t have to come up for air anytime soon.

“Fuck it,” Courtney growls.

Her hands grip my face, crushing my mouth to hers at the same time as my hands grip her full hips and pull her up my body. Long legs wrap around me. Bare heels pushing into my ass for purchase while her arms fold around my shoulders.

My girl’s all fucking teeth and tongue, and it’s the best goddamn kiss of my life. Her mouth is all heat and sin, and my fingers sink into her ass like I’m punishing her for every second she wasn’t mine. For every second she made me ache alone.

“Augus—” I cut her moan off with a sharp bite of her lip when she attempts to peel away for air.

No fucking way. I’ve waited for this for too long.

I need this. I need her .

I crash my mouth onto hers and it’s a claim , not a kiss—filthy, starved, tongue dragging hers into a rhythm that screams mine. Her arms hook tighter around my neck, nails scratching from my nape all the way up my fade, demanding more when her hands mold to the back of my head.

I’ll give it to her. I’ll give her everything she’s ever wanted and needed. Fulfil every single fantasy that’s ever crossed her mind. But first… I want her gasping.

With a nip to her lip, I deposit Courtney on the counter. Her fingers claw into my shoulders when I push her back on the granite, slotting myself between her parted thighs.

“Please, Auguste… I need… please…” She licks her lips in between pleading pants as I lift her dress to the top of her thighs. Every inch of her sk in is perfect. Every curve of her body is a sin I want to be punished for.

I would burn in hell for eternity, for a single taste of this girl.

My mouth waters at the wet patch on her white panties.

“Jesus, Court. Is this for me?” I lightly thumb the stain and she moans.

It’s loud and throaty, and fuck me, when her head falls back, all I can think of is marking every inch of her skin. Her throat, her chest, her tits…

Courtney’s thighs part wider. Welcoming. Begging. And yeah, I’ve been dying to claim every goddamn inch.

Leaning in, I hitch her feet up on the edge of the counter. My hands trail up her calves, holding her thighs open for me when I run my nose along the inside. Breathing her in.

It’s glorious. The soft, soapy scent of her body wash with the tinge of her sweat and the sweetness of her need is unlike anything I’ve ever known.

“Auguste, just… oh my God … yeeees,” she whimpers when I nuzzle her wet core, nipping at the silky fabric of her underwear, sucking at the wet patch for a stronger hit of her.

Then I lick up the middle, from her entrance up to her clit, slow and purposeful. Her body jerks, pressing deeper onto my face.

“Fuuuuck,” Courtney whines—sharp, high-pitched, needy—when I nip at her clit.

The wet patch grows, soaking my jaw with her need.

It’s a fucking treat, and can’t help grin into her. “You like that, Snow?”

“Yes. God, yes… I do… I do …”

A grabby hand twists into my hair as I suck her clit hard enough to make her cry out, then ease back, blowing cool air on her soaked underwear.