Kristen Ashley - Wild Man

“I know.”

Her lips tipped up in a small grin. “Well, she said I had my head in the sand. She said most women would take one look at you and know you were fun to play with but you weren’t the one for the long haul. But me, she said I took one look at you and had visions of white picket fences and making you birthday cakes until the day you die.”

She swallowed, the smile died and her eyes grew bright.

Brock held his breath, his fingers clenching into her ass and he waited.

“She was wrong,” Tess whispered. “I was right.” She drew in breath through her nose, dipped her face closer and the pads of her fingers dug into his neck then she finished, “We don’t have a white picket fence, baby, but I’m going to bake you birthday cakes until the day you die.”

He let out the breath he was holding, the burn in his lungs moving to become warmth in his gut, his hands sliding from her ass up her back, one arm curving around, the other one going up her spine, her neck so he could sift his fingers in her hair as he whispered,

“Sweetness.”

“I’m glad it’s me who gets to bake your birthday cakes.”

He was happy she was glad but he reckoned he was a fuck of a lot happier he had Tess making his cakes and not just because they were the best fucking things he’d ever tasted.

He closed his eyes, shoved his face in her neck and rolled her to back, groaning, “Tess.”

“My Brock,” she whispered, her lips at his ear, her limbs moving to grow tight around him, “he’s not so wild.”

He lifted his head and brought it close, locking his eyes with hers.

“You’re wrong, darlin’, I got wild in me. And I’ll never lose it. It’s just that my wild is a safe place for you and it always will be.”

Her eyes got soft and one of her hands slid from around him to cup his cheek as she nodded.

Then her thumb moved to trace his lower lip as she asked, “Did you have a good birthday, Slim?”

He grinned against her thumb and answered, “I started it in bed with you wearin’ a sweet nightie and I ended it in bed with you wearin’ an even sweeter nightie, so, yeah, outside the drama at the hospital, I had a great birthday, Tess.”

She grinned back and asked, “So you liked your birthday present?”

His hand glided down the emerald green silk at her side as he dropped his mouth to hers and muttered, “Fuck yeah.”

Her fingers slid from his cheek and into his hair as she muttered back, “Good.”

Brock was done talking and he shared this with his wife when he slanted his head. Tess read him loud and clear and tilted hers. He put pressure on her lips, she opened hers, his tongue slid inside and she welcomed it.

And, with that, his sweet Tess made a great birthday even fucking better.