Page 82 of Hungry As Her Python

She shook her head, pulling me closer.

“Don’t you dare.”

That was all the permission I needed.

I slammed my lips to hers, right there in the warm, sugar-scented heart of her home.

My fingers gripped her thick thighs, and I pressed her knees wide, fitting my eager cock to her dripping entrance.

“Mine,” I hissed, thrusting my hips and pressing deep inside of her heated body.

So wet. So warm.

Her soft moans mixing with the hum of the earth.

Every touch, every kiss, was a promise—one I had no intention of ever breaking.

By the time we finally stilled, breathless and clinging to each other, the oven timer dinged.

Bella laughed against my chest. “Guess the muffins are done.”

“Let them wait,” I murmured, kissing her hair. “I can’t, Sugar. I need you again, now.”

“Then take me, Conrad. Take me, please.”

How could I turn down such an offer?

The answer was easy. I couldn’t.

And I never would.

Chapter Twenty-Four-Bella

The Following Morning

I was already mentally running through the day’s muffin and tart lineup, wondering if Mira had beaten me in and gotten the ovens preheated and the fryers going.

My brain was still doing a happy little jitterbug over the perfect batter recipe that had popped into my head during that dreamy, half-asleep moment right before wakefulness.

You know, the magical space where genius ideas are born—like chocolate-covered potato chips or putting your ex’s cursed mirror on eBay.

And okay, fine.

It wasn’t just my culinary brilliance that sealed the deal.

The real inspiration?

A certain sly, sultry, shower-singing Snake man with a voice like sin dipped in honey.

Conrad’s morning serenade had been distracting.

Deliciously distracting.

The kind of distracting that made me want to slather myself in whipped cream and see if he could hit the high notes.

But it wasn’t all him.

The other guilty party was the rhinestone-jumpsuit-wearing King of Rock himself.