Traded for Nine Boats, I Walked In Pregnant and Ran Their House novel · Chapter 9 of 24

Chapter 9: Thanksgiving

The pie was pumpkin, and I had eaten a third of it standing at the counter in nothing but his shirt.

It was past midnight on Thanksgiving.

The cousins had gone home, and the turkey carcass was in the pot, and the house was dark except for the light over the stove.

Alex stood behind me with the can of whipped cream in his hand.

"You're going to eat the whole thing," he said.

"I'm eating for two."

"You're eating for four."

I turned around and hopped up onto the counter, and the cold of the tile went through his shirt.

"Give me that," I said.

He held it out of reach.

"What do I get?"

"What do you want?"

His eyes went dark.

"I want to see you," he said. "Open the shirt."

I undid the buttons slowly, one at a time, watching his face.

I let the shirt fall open and sit on my shoulders.

Underneath I was bare.

My breasts were full, and my stomach had a little new curve in it, and my skin was flushed from the stove.

Alex made a low sound in his throat.

He pointed the can at me and sprayed a swirl of cream onto my left nipple.

I yelped.

"It's cold!"

"Not for long."

He bent his head and licked it off.

His tongue was hot and slow, and he took his time, and he closed his lips around the peak and sucked.

I braced my hands on the counter behind me and arched into him.

"Oh," I said. "Oh, that's good."

"Better than pie?"

"Don't make me choose."

He laughed against my skin.

He broke a piece of crust off the pie with his fingers and held it to my lips.

I opened my mouth, and he fed it to me.

I sucked the sweet pumpkin off the tip of his finger, and his eyes went black.

"You're doing that on purpose," he said.

"I'm hungry."

"You're a menace."

His other hand slid up my thigh under the open shirt.

He found me bare and slick, and he stroked one finger along me, lazily, while I chewed.

I swallowed with difficulty.

"Alex," I said.

"Keep eating," he said.

"I can't concentrate when you do that," I said.

"Keep eating, Ariadne."

He fed me another bite.

He circled my clit slowly with his thumb, and I let my head fall back against the cabinet.

"You're so wet," he said.

"You're so wet, and you taste like pumpkin pie, and I want to eat you alive."

He sprayed the other side and licked that too.

Then he went lower.

He painted a thick white line down the center of my stomach, over the soft curve of it, and I watched him lower his head.

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