Easy Kisses (The Boudreaux Series Book 4) - Kristen Proby Page 0,65

taking his lips from my skin.

“You’re just precious,” I reply, hearing my own accent thicken along with his cock pressed to my belly.

“You make me laugh,” he says, smiling against my neck. “You make me so hard it hurts. And I’m grateful that you’re wearing a skirt.”

“Why is that?”

He reaches down and balls the material in his fists, raising it above my waist.

“You’re not wearing panties,” he says with surprise, his blue eyes pinned to mine.

“Not today.”

“Fucking hell, Charly.” He boosts me up on the edge of the counter and grinds his hard, jean-clad cock against my core, setting me on fire. “You’re already wet.”

“I look at you and get wet,” I reply. I’m breathless. On fire. “If you’re not inside me in two seconds, we’re going to have an issue.”

“We don’t want to have an issue,” he replies and unzips his jeans, frees his cock, and pushes inside me immediately, stealing what breath I have left.

“God, you feel good,” I moan, clutching his shoulders. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

“Good because there will be more later.” He grips my hips and picks up the pace, fucking me hard and furiously here in the middle of my shop.

Sex in the middle of gorgeous shoes? Am I in heaven?

Because I’m pretty sure this is what heaven looks like.

“If you’re able to laugh, I’m doing this wrong. You’re not good on the ego, love.”

“No, I was—oh, God—just thinking that this must be what heaven looks like.”

He cocks a brow.

“Amazing sex surrounded by shoes.”

His lips twitch into a satisfied smile. He rips my shirt open, not giving one shit about the buttons popping off, and sucks my already hard nipples into his mouth.

“How cute am I now?” he asks, his eyes serious and narrowed as he fucks me relentlessly against the countertop.

“You’re not cute,” I reply, holding on for dear life. He presses his thumb to my clit, tearing me apart inside out. “You’re everything.”

I cry out, clinging to him.

Everything.

Fucking baby Moses, I’ve fallen in love with him.

***

Why is there a baby chick in my bed?

Okay, so I can’t actually see it, but it’s nestled up against my cheek, all warm and fuzzy. I might not kill whoever put it here.

“Darling, I need you to wake up,” Simon says, patting my ass. I’m on my stomach, which is my usual way to sleep. I reach my arm out and come up with cold sheets.

Simon’s up already?

“Why are you awake?” I ask, not opening my eyes.

“Because I had work to do,” he replies. “And I brought you this.”

“A baby chick?”

“What?” He bursts out laughing. “No, love. Open your eyes.”

“Can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No, you killed me last night.”

I smirk and stretch my arms over my head, frowning when I feel the baby chick leave my cheek. Our sexual relationship has been out of control over the past few days since the quickie in my shop.

And by out of control, I mean non-stop and wow.

“Do I smell bacon?”

I immediately sit up and spin around to find Simon sitting, shirtless mind you, with a tray of food.

“Happy Breakfast,” he says with a sheepish smile. “I’m not a great cook, but I can make a plate of bacon and eggs.”

“God love you,” I reply and reach for a slice of bacon. “Mmm.”

“Good?”

“Mmm.” I nod and search the bed. “I feel bad eating eggs in front of the chick, though. It might have been his sibling.”

“There’s no chick,” he says, laughing again. “It was your own hair. I brushed it out of your face.”

“No way.”

He nods slowly. “Yes way. I had no idea that you have been pining away for a baby chick all this time. I would have gotten you one.”

“I don’t want one,” I reply. “I must have been dreaming about them.”

“About farm animals?”

“Maybe I was a farmer in my dream,” I reply and then smile when Simon laughs again. “It could happen.”

“Not in this life,” he replies and holds a forkful of eggs up for me to eat. “Here, no chicken siblings around to witness this.”

“You’re pretty good at this breakfast thing,” I say as I chew and hold a piece of bacon up for him to bite. “And I like you well enough to share my bacon.”

“How kind of you,” he says and takes a bite, then the whole piece, practically biting my fingers.

“Hey, you took all of it.”

“There’s more.”

My landline begins to ring, but I shake my head. “Ignore that.”

“Happily.” He smears strawberry jam on toast and holds it to my lips. “Here’s something

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