Page 106 of Oathbreaker

“Deep throating,” I pant, “can be lesson…two… For now, just—oh God!”

I’m fucking her mouth without even realizing I’m doing it, the warm wet cocoon clamping around me just right. And she instinctively sucks harder.

“Baby…” I tighten my grip on her hair, start moving faster, going a little deeper each time. I won’t choke her, but this feels too good to stop. “Just a little more—Briar!” The tsunami racing down my spine is unstoppable, and I shoot into her mouth, pulsing over and over.

And she hangs on, swallowing every drop.

My heart is hammering against my ribs, skin flushed with pleasure, and all I can do is lie there—staring at the ceiling as I try to find my breath.

She sits up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Yum.”

My eyes snap to hers. “Yeah? You like a little salt with your hot dog?”

Laughter bubbles out of her. “As a matter of fact, I do.” Then the laughter fades, replaced with a look of uncertainty. “Was it…okay?”

“Okay?” I shake my head. “No. It was not okay—it was fucking phenomenal. Get up here.” I reach out and pull her against me, taking her lips greedily. I can taste the remnants of my semen on her tongue and when it’s part of kissing her, it’s amazing.

Everything with Briar is amazing.

“So…does that count as fucking or making love?” she asks when she lifts her head.

“That counts as the love of my life doing beautifully dirty things to her man. Like I said, it’s more nuanced than that when you’re in a committed, loving relationship. But trust me—when I truly fuck you—you’ll know.”

She cocks her head. “Can that be…now?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Thirty-Three

Briar

“And then we add…”

Colt glances down at my recipe—and seriously, thank God I laminated it because it’s covered with flour and egg goo and who knows what else.

I can just wipe it clean later.

Instead of having to rewrite the whole thing.

Maybe I need to laminate everything in the house for easy cleanup.

Grinning, I watch my man and my daughter lean close as they scrutinize the paper.

“...three-quarters of a cup of heavy whipping cream.”

“That’s this one, Daddy!” Frankie says, reaching for the carton and holding it up.

Colt’s smile for her?—

God, it’s so beautiful it’s almost painful, piercing my heart somewhere deep inside and burying itself there, never to be shaken free.

Because I’ve felt that same thing for Frankie, for the beauty we created together.

So, seeing the clear evidence of his love for her…

Yeah, it may be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever had the privilege to witness.

So much so, I don’t jump in to help them, don’t clean up the mess they’re creating—on the recipe card and the counters and the floor. I don’t chime in that they’re mixing too vigorously or that the pie crusts are overfull.