I gasp. “He did not! He doesn’t even have the authority.”
I pull open the fridge, grab us each a beer, and slide one his way.
“That’s what I told her, but she wouldn’t listen.” He twists off the top and takes a drink. “She just screamed at him some more, telling him he can’t fire her because she’s pregnant. Your dad had to ‘rehire’ her in front of everyone because she wouldn’t quit crying and customers were threatening to walk out because of your brother.”
I lean against the counter, shaking my head. “I could maim that insensitive jerk.”
“I’d help, but to be fair, he had no idea she’s pregnant. He was real pissed after she blurted it out to him, stormed out for the day. When I left, your dad was still trying to find him.”
“Good! He should feel like a complete ass for being such a jerk to her. He’s so dang mean lately.”
“Has he always been this moody? I don’t remember him being that way.”
“No. It’s been like this since the accident.”
Foster shakes his head. “Well, he needs to knock that shit off. I’ll have to talk to him.”
“Good luck.” I set my beer down and pull two bowls from the cabinet next to me. “You hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Let me grab the garlic bread from the oven and we should be good to go.” I slide a glove over my hand and tug the door open. “They look perfect.”
“Yes, yes they do.”
I peek over my shoulder.
Foster’s staring at my ass.
“Are you referring to my butt cheeks or my breadsticks?”
He groans, dropping his head into his hands. “You can’t say butt cheeks and breadsticks in the same sentence, Wren, not when you’ve had my dick hard for four weeks straight.”
“Yikes.” I wince, plucking the hot pan from the oven. “You might wanna get that checked out. I thought four hours was the max.”
“Hardy fucking har. Just feed me so I can fuck you.”
The breadsticks nearly go crashing to the floor before I recover and set them on the cooling rack.
“Jesus, Foster. You have to warn a girl before you say some panty-melting phrase like that.”
He pushes up from the table and saunters my way with a saucy grin. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me close. I can feel the way my teasing has affected him, his hard length pressing into me.
“Speaking of panties…” He slides his hands around my backside, cupping my ass cheeks. “Are you even wearing any?”
I smirk up at him. “Now what would be the fun in me telling you that, huh? It would ruin the surprise.”
He snakes his hand under my skirt, eyes lighting up when he feels my bare cheeks.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
“Or maybe”—I wiggle my ass—“you just haven’t looked hard enough.”
Spinning me, he flips my skirt up, sucking in a hard breath when he sees I’m wearing a thong.
“Fucking hell. Killing me,” he murmurs. He drops his lips to my ear. “Hands on the counter, Wren.”
“But dinner…it’ll get cold.”
He pulls my long hair away from my neck and trails his lips down my skin. “Look, I love that you cooked me a meal and I’m certain it’s fantastic, but there’s something else I’d much rather be eating right now.”
My breath leaves my lungs in a loud whoosh.
“So put your fucking hands on the counter and spread your legs.”
I don’t hesitate to follow his instructions as he drops to his knees behind me.
He doesn’t dive right for the action. No, that’s not Foster’s style.
Instead, inch by inch, he lifts my skirt, kissing every sliver of skin he uncovers, nipping and licking at me like he’ll never get a taste again. He palms my cheeks, massaging and spreading them, enjoying playing with the thin material I’m wearing.
“As much as I hate taking this off you, I don’t think it’s going to grant me the access I desire.”
He pulls my poor excuse for underwear down my legs, stopping when they’ve hit mid-thigh. This forces my hips to jut out toward him, and I’m sure he planned that perfectly.
He rains kisses down on my skin and my legs quiver with anticipation, knowing what’s coming next.
“You’re shaking.”
“Because you’re taking forever. Just get to it already. You’re—ohhhhh!” I groan. “Good lord.”
He chuckles, the vibration running through me in the most delightful of ways.
His tongue assaults me, swirling circles around my clit, and I must admit I’m loving the way his nose is pressing against the thin strip between my pussy and my ass. The pressure is enough to nearly kill me.
He runs his hands over my skin, down my thighs, lifting my cheeks and spreading them as he presses into me more. He sweeps his tongue into my pussy, fucking me with it before sliding back to my clit and sucking the swollen button between his teeth.
My legs nearly give way as the shudders rack through me.
“Foster.” His name comes out a moan, and I swear I can feel him smile against me.
With a few more gentle strokes, he drags his tongue away from my body, setting me back down on my feet.
He holds me steady, sliding up my body and cradling me to him for support.
“How’s that for taking forever?”
I close my eyes and sigh. “I don’t think I’ve ever orgasmed so fast.”
He chuckles. “You’re welcome.”
He bites at my earlobe and lands a hard thwack to my ass cheek. Another shiver races down my body, and I’m not sure if it’s the nibble or the smack that does it.
“My turn.”
He walks us backward, which is good because I couldn’t move my legs myself right now if I tried. He’s unbuckling his belt and unsnapping his jeans as we go, and he surprises me when he drops to the seat he abandoned earlier and pulls me down on his lap, my back to his chest.
His hard cock rests against my ass cheeks, and I love the feel of the heaviness against me.
“Are you going to fuck me in here?”
“Yes. I can’t wait another second to be inside you.” He taps my waist. “Lift your hips. Gotta cover up.”
I push onto the balls of my feet as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a condom.
I lift an amused brow. “Were you planning this, Foster?”
“I was,” he says with zero remorse. “But then again, I’ve been planning this for years.”
He pulls my hips back to him, lining up my opening with the head of his hard cock.
“That’s an awfully long time to plan something,” I say through staggered breaths, anticipating the feel of him inside me.
“This is going to change everything, Wren.”
“I know.”
He breaches my opening, stretching me to that delicious point where pain and pleasure meet.
“Breathe,” he encourages, and I hadn’t even realized I was holding my breath.
I exhale and he buries himself inside me fully, pulling me flush against his lap.
“You… Sweet hell,” he hums.
His hands curl into my hair, fisting the long locks and pulling my head back to expose my neck. He drags his tongue up the uncovered column of my neck and sucks my earlobe between his teeth.
“Better than I imagined.”
“Y-You’ve i-imagined this?”
He drives into me, his free hand wandering under my shirt. He deftly pulls the cups of my bra down, freeing my nipples.
“So much.”
He rolls my perked buds between his fingers, and I dig my hands into his thighs, the sensations getting to be too much. I can already feel another orgasm working its way to the peak.
“We were never in your kitchen, but I’ve imagined you many ways. In my bedroom…”
The jeans he never took off rub against my naked thighs as he pushes into me over and over, the scratchy material feeling like silk beneath me.
“In my bed.”
I whimper when he abandons my breasts. He chuckles, and if he didn’t feel so amazing inside me right now, I’d be annoyed.
He inches his hand lower, pulling my skirt up and finding my still swollen clit.
“In my truck.”
My pussy clenches around him when he says this and he hisses, grasping my hair tighter and driving into me harder, faster. He works his lips up and down my neck, shifting between licking and biting me. I’m certain I’ll have marks tomorrow, but I don’t care right now. Right now, all I care about is how Foster feels inside me…like he was made to be there.
Everything feels so…right.
I meet his thrusts with drives of my own, shoving his hand out of the way to rub my clit in the way I know I need it right now.
He laughs and smacks at my ass again, bucking under me so hard and fast our thighs are slapping together, the noise echoing around the kitchen.
Our breaths are harsh, loud, and full of so much pleasure.
“I’m not gonna last much longer,” he warns.
“You want a cookie?” I mutter.
He yanks my head back again and I hiss, loving that fine painful-pleasure-filled line he’s riding.
I squeeze my pussy again and he moans.
“Son of a bitch,” he spits, barely holding himself together. “Please tell me you’re close.”
“So close.”
Like he knows exactly what I need, I feel his thumb press against my asshole, drawing small circles over the sensitive spot, and my legs begin to shake, my orgasm hovering near.
He drops his head against my temple, holding me to him, and sighs.
This moment with Foster inside me…his hands on my body touching me in places I never thought I’d be touched…the way his heartbeat is synced up with mine…the way his breath sounds like it’s forever caught in his throat…everything about it…
It’s perfect.
Everything I didn’t know I was missing.
Everything I didn’t know I want. Everything I need.
“I love you,” he says against me.
I don’t say anything.
I don’t have to.
Because I fall apart around him at his words.
With a few more rough thrusts, Foster sputters out more cuss words than I’ve ever heard him use in one sentence and slows his movements beneath me.
I collapse against him instantly, my body utterly drained.
He loosens his grip on my hair, pressing kiss after kiss over my jawline until he trails his lips back to my ear.
“I’ll take that cookie now.”
Slice Eighteen
Foster
“Your dog shit in my living room.”
Well, that was the last thing I thought I’d hear this morning…
I roll over and peel my eyes open, blinking against the bright daylight filtering into the bedroom.
Wren’s kneeling on the bed next to me, looking rather disgruntled. Her hair is wet, her natural curls a mess around her head. There’s a distinct I just got fucked look about her that makes me want to beat on my chest like some idiotic caveman because I’m the reason it’s there.
Despite her glower, she’s stunning.
“Quit smiling!” She grabs the nearest pillow and smashes it against me. “Your freakin’ dog crapped all over my living room and I freakin’ stepped in it and then had to clean it and me and now I’m all freakin’ angry!”
“Freakin’ ew,” I mock, scrunching my nose. “That’s disgusting.”
“Tell me about it!” she explodes, whacking me with the pillow again.
“Stop hitting me. It’s too early to be beaten.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I should have waited until after your coffee to beat you because your freakin’ dog shit. In. My. House!”
She screams the last part and I can’t help but laugh.
Another wallop with the pillow, this one with a little extra force behind it.
“Okay, okay.” I snatch the weapon from her and chuck it across the room then pull myself into a seated position. “I’m sorry he shit, okay? What time is it?”
She glances at the old-school clock on her bedside table—something we talked about last night because who the hell still owns one of those things?
“After eight.”
“Ah, that makes sense.”
“The time of day makes sense for your dog—”
“Shitting in your living room.” I scratch at my chest, rolling my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I got it.”
She harrumphs, crossing her arms and shooting daggers my way.
“Sorry,” I wince. “That’s my bad. He’s used to going out promptly at five thirty. It’s running time for me, pooping time for him.”
“Well, thanks for—”
“Oh no you don’t,” I interject. “No smartass comments from you, not after last night and early this morning. You’re the reason I didn’t get up for my run.”
“Me? That was all you, Mr. Horndog!”
“I didn’t hear you complaining.” I laugh. “Are we really having this conversation right now?”
“Yes! Because shit!” She huffs, but she can’t seem to stay annoyed, laughter bubbling out of her.
I shake my head. “You finished being ridiculous?”
“I’m still annoyed, but yes.”
“Good.” I smack a kiss to her cheek. “Now, let’s talk breakfast because I am starving.”
“Well, you did skip dinner last night.”
“Worth it.”
“And you did sleep way past your normal eating time, so I’m not surprised. How about…” She taps her finger on her chin. “Hmm…I don’t know what I have ingredients for.”
“Then surprise me. At this point, I’m not going to turn anything down.”
“Not even pickled beets?”
I nearly gag just thinking about it. “Okay, maybe that.”
“Good, because I’m all out.” She grins. “Go shower. I’ll cook. Deal?”
“Deal.”
She scuttles off the bed and I toss the blanket from my body, springing up and stretching my back out.
“Oh my god, you slept naked next to me all night long?”
Her eyes are trained on my fully exposed package, which is swinging in the wind. My cock stirs to life the longer her eyes linger.
“Yep. And you’d have known that if you hadn’t slept on the complete opposite side of the bed.”
She lifts a shoulder. “What? I hate being touched when I’m sleeping. It’s weird.”
“It wouldn’t have been weird with me.”
“Trust me, Foster, even if Emma Stone were in bed with me trying to snuggle, it would be weird.”
“Yeah, but only because Emma Stone has no idea who you are.”
“Well, she should. I’m hilarious.”
“You sure about that?”
“Can you just cover your junk, please?”
“Weird, I didn’t hear you complaining about my junk last night.”
She rolls her eyes. “Guy gets you off one time and it’s all he talks about.”
“One time? Count again, Birdie.”
“My math skills are just fine.”
“You telling me you faked the other two?”
“No, I’m just saying those weren’t all your victories. You had help.”
“But I still participated.”
She huffs. “Are we really going to argue about how many orgasms you gave me?”
“Yes! My pride is riding on this, woman.”
She lets out a long, exasperated sigh. “Just go shower, Foster.”
“Fine, but this isn’t over.”
“Whatever you say.” Turning on her heel, she heads for the door. “There’s an extra toothbrush under the sink.”
“An extra? Who do you need an extra toothbrush for?”
“Oh.” She smirks devilishly. “All the other guys who can give me at least two orgasms…all by themselves.”
She flits away, leaving my ego bruised, my dick hard, and my lips grinning.
“You’re such a brat!” I shout after her.
“Quit complimenting me and go shower!”
Shaking my head, I gather my clothes from last night and make my way to the bathroom, double-checking that there’s a clean towel for me because I wouldn’t put it past her to leave me empty-handed on purpose.
Butt cheek for a butt cheek and all that.
I set the water temperature and slide in under the stream, loving the water pressure the second it hits my back. This shower is a massive improvement over Winston’s.
As I stand under the hot waterfall, my mind drifts to last night…and not just all the fun naughty parts.
She didn’t say it back.
I told her I loved her, and she didn’t say it back…again.
So lost in the moment, I didn’t realize it right away. It wasn’t until after our third—or was it fourth?—tumble in the sheets that it dawned on me that the words never left her mouth.
Every fiber of my being told me she felt the same, but I’ve been wrong before when it comes to her.
Back when I first confessed my feelings, I could have sworn she was feeling it too, that we were on the same page. The conversations we were having that night just felt so right.
Last night, her body felt right. Her response to my touch, her actions leading up to the night…every moment we’ve had together since we made the stupid fake date deal, since I told her how I felt…
It’s all felt authentic. Absolute.
Surely this hasn’t just all been pretend.
It can’t be.
Not when it feels like it does.
Right?
“Did you die in there? Breakfast is nearly done.”
Already? Damn.
“If you’re not dead, say ‘I, Foster Marlett, only gave Wren Daniels one fair-and-square orgasm.’ If you’re dead, say nothing.”
“Guess who just talked themselves out of any more orgasms.”
“That’s fine. It’s evident I can do it myself anyway. Shots fired!”
I groan and hear her laugh all the way down the hallway.
A Pizza My Heart Page 18