At Wits' End - Kenzie Reed Page 0,70
uncertainly – exquisitely – on the brink of orgasm.
I can see on his face what it costs him – the control he has to exert over his own body. There’s a little furrow of effort between his brows, and his dark green eyes are dilated with lust. But he holds back until I twist beneath him, moaning, and he lets the fierce spasms of my climax carry him into his own release.
The sound of his frantic cries is enough to send me again, and he gives another heartfelt groan and twitches inside me as he feels me pulsing around him.
We collapse side by side, gasping fond nonsense as we fight to get our breath back. We’re both sticky with sweat, and Donovan’s fingers tremble just a little as he brushes a damp curl away from my forehead. I put my palm on his chest and I can feel his heart beating against my hand, still fast, but strong and reliable.
After a while, he turns his head and smiles down at me. He quirks an eyebrow. “After that, I think it’s time for me to do something I’ve never done before. It’s going to be a new experience for you too…but if you just relax and let me take control, I think you’ll be surprised how much you like it.”
I give it a bit of thought, but in for a penny, in for a pound. “Butt stuff?” I say. “I guess I’ve always been curious…”
I swear he almost swallows his tongue. “No!” he chokes. “I mean yes. Definitely. Any kind of stuff you want. Later. For now, I’m going to cook you an entire meal, from soup to nuts, and you’re going to sit here and let me, and not lift a single finger.”
I ponder again, then I grin. “It’s a deal,” I say. “After all, it sounds like I’m going to have to keep my strength up. For…stuff.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
DONOVAN
May drifts into June, blessedly cool. The heavy rains have stopped. In the morning, the hillside vineyards are wreathed with fog that melts by afternoon. The vineyard owners of Greenvale have smiles on their faces; this weather couldn’t be better if it had been ordered from a catalog.
If only ninety years of bad decisions weren’t hovering in the air like a foul smell, ruining what should be a perfect evening.
Unfortunately, history can’t be undone so easily. Both of our families are gathered together for dinner in the private banquet room at Le Gourmand, at the request of Murray, and shockingly enough, it’s not going well.
That’s why we booked the private room. Fewer witnesses.
Linda is our waitress today, and in keeping with the new leaf she’s supposedly turned over, I notice that her makeup is more low-key and her white shirt is buttoned up to the very top button. She moves swiftly around the table, taking our orders.
I put my hand on Sienna’s knee and whisper in her ear. “At least Jamie isn’t wearing her– Aw, hell.”
Jamie’s sitting across from my family, between Cesare and Sara, looking sulky. She’s wearing her deely-bobber headband. She flashes me a look of defiance, takes a healthy sip of her gin and tonic, and taps her headband to make the penises quiver. Dance, little dickies, dance.
“She wasn’t wearing those when she came in,” I complain. “How did that happen?”
“Smuggled them in her purse.” Sienna shrugs. “Where there’s a Witlocke, there’s a way.”
“I knew I should have searched her.” I shoot a laser-sharp glare of fury at my sister. “Next time we all get together, I’m going to make everyone pass through a full-body scanner.”
“They don’t have body scanners that detect penis deely-bobbers.” Sienna’s forehead wrinkles in thought. “I think. I mean, when I go through the airport I don’t think that’s what they’re looking for.”
“I can invent one. I’m that good.” I am, too. I’m not sure how Graham would feel about me diverting my time and mental energy to a project that isn’t technically an emergency, but if Jamie doesn’t stop wearing those damn things, someone in my family is going to have an aneurysm, so it kind of is an emergency.
Sienna twists around to face my sister. “Jamie. Just for this dinner, could you please take those off?” she says calmly. “We’re here for a reason. And having you wearing headgear that makes you look like a demented novelty shop escapee isn’t helping. I say that with love.”
“Wow, I shudder to think what it would sound like if you said it with hate,” Jamie grumbles,