Charity Case - The Complete Series - Piper Rayne Page 0,293

The fabric falls between us. “Come take a shower with me.”

His lips give a convincing argument, his hands on my breasts, his fingers teasing my nipples since I’m sans bra what with having to get a turkey in the oven at an ungodly time this morning.

“Then you’re on cooking shift after,” I say.

“Sure thing.”

He lifts me into his arms, carrying me out of the kitchen and down the hall. Before the water’s warm, he has me naked and he’s stripping his own clothes off.

“I have about ten minutes before the sweet potato dish is done.”

“With the way you look, I can be done in five.” He rushes us over into the walk-in shower and under the stream of warm water. The spray feels like heaven after being bent over a hot stove all morning.

“Not before I…”

He laughs. “Never. Ladies first…always.” His lips crash to mine, our tongues finding that perfect rhythm that ensures five minutes will be plenty.

One minute later, his hand is between my legs, running through my slickness.

Two minutes later, his cock is in my hands, pumping as his lips travel from ear to mouth and down my neck.

Three minutes later, my back is pressed to the tiled wall with his body between my thighs.

Four minutes later, his dick is sinking into my warmth and he fills me like no other man.

Five minutes later, inaudible words are murmuring from both our mouths. His hands are on my ass, lifting and lowering me over him.

Six minutes later, my fingernails are gripping at his shoulder blades, needing an anchor to hold as my orgasm builds.

Seven minutes later, my orgasm crescendos and my body loses all tension.

Eight minutes later, Roarke pumps into me while his labored breath echoes within the shower walls.

So it took us longer than five minutes, who’s counting?

“That was all the affirmation I needed to know I should’ve stayed home.”

“And that we should’ve ordered our Thanksgiving dinner.”

He kisses my lips. “Probably, but I bet your turkey is going to taste amazing.”

Where is the incessant need to please my man coming from?

“Oh, I’m sure it will.”

Here’s hoping you don’t end up in the hospital with salmonella.

I pump the shampoo, rubbing it through his salt and pepper hair. “You get washed and I’ll get ready.”

The sight of suds dripping down Roarke’s hard body tugs at me to have a round two, but the fire department will end up being our dinner guests if we don’t hurry. I don’t need to be splashed on the front page of the Tribune tomorrow half naked outside my burning skyscraper.

“Your turn.” He gives me a knee weakening kiss before exiting the steam filled shower.

I never tire of watching his ass.

A half hour later, I leave the confines of our bathroom with damp hair and no shoes.

Roarke moves around the kitchen like he’s flippin’ Bobby Flay, breezing from one pot to the other, appearing totally relaxed.

UGH, of course he can cook. The man can do everything.

I peek in the oven to see the damn poker hasn’t popped up yet to say the turkey is done.

“How am I doing?” he asks, snaking his arm around me and pulling me to him. He kisses my neck since I have lipstick on.

“Better than me, I’m embarrassed to admit.”

“Look in the trash.” He releases as the water from the potatoes overflows and sizzles on the stove top.

Peering into the trash I find the sweet potatoes and green beans in the trash.

“I had to start over. Sorry.”

I cringe then wrap my arms around his stomach and inhale his crisp cologne. “Don’t be sorry. We can’t all be cooks.”

He chuckles but doesn’t call me out. The love of a good man.

“Go finish getting ready. I think I’m good now.”

I squeeze him. “I’ll be right back.”

Another half hour later, I’m on my way back to the kitchen when the doorbell rings. “I got it!”

“Get Lucy, she’s circling the counter like it’s a smorgasbord just for her,” Roarke says.

Our cat Nickel runs through my legs, then darts under the chair. He doesn’t much care for company.

“Lucy! I think your friend might be here,” I say to our German Sheppard.

“What friend?” Roarke calls out.

“Snowball. Jade’s puppy.”

“What?” There’s a rip of fear laced in his tone. “Babe, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Oh relax, it’s smaller than Nickel.”

I open the door with my now perfectly trained Lucy at my side. “Happy Thanksgiving!”

“You look beautiful,” Chelsea says, hugging me briefly, a Taco Bell burrito in one hand.

“You couldn’t wait for dinner?” I chuckle.

Dean shakes his