She releases her pearls and slips her palm into mine, allowing me to guide her to the stool where she sits, facing the front yard. The landscapers are working on the bushes to the right. I adjust her position so her ass is hanging over the edge and I have the access I need.

“Hands on the window,” I whisper in her ear.

She complies, palms flat on the glass.

I slide a palm under her chin and tip her head back so she has to look at me. I run my other hand down her spine and between her thighs to circle her entrance.

I bend to touch my lips to hers. “Hands stay on the window and eyes stay on mine or I stop.”

“Okay.” She nods and arches her back, probably trying to get me to finger her. Too bad I’m not in a hurry to make her come. I spend the next ten minutes making painfully slow figure eights around her clit and entrance, but not penetrating. I know exactly the moment to back off so she doesn’t go over the edge.

“Darren,” she whines and lifts her right hand from the window.

“Hands, firefly. Yours stay where they are if you want mine to stay where mine are.”

She moans and slaps her palm against the window. The landscapers have moved on at this point, but she doesn’t know that.

I go back to doing figure eights around her clit. “It’s a good thing the floor is hardwood. You’re making quite the mess right now.” She’s dripping down my fingers.

“You’re so mean,” she grumbles.

I laugh. “Weren’t you the one who wanted to play?”

“I wasn’t expecting orgasm torture,” she shoots back.

That’s the moment I push two fingers inside her, find the sweet spot and start pumping, hard and fast. She can’t keep her hands on the window, and for a second I consider stopping again, but we’re spending the afternoon with friends, and I don’t want her pissed off at me. So I keep pumping, and she starts coming. She latches onto my arm, nails digging in as her mouth falls open and a low moan bubbles up.

I drop my mouth to hers. “Does it feel good?”

“Oh my God, yes.” The S draws out, long and low. And still, I keep pumping, and she keeps coming.

I could have her like this, but I want her wrapped around me, so I spin the stool and fumble with the button on my jeans. Yanking down the zipper, I free my cock, part her legs, line myself up, and push inside.

“We’re finishing this upstairs so I can fuck you like I love you.”

“Whatever you want, Darren.”

“And you’re not dressing up my dick. Ever.” I grab two handfuls of ass and pick her up.

Her lips find the edge of my jaw as I carry up the stairs. When she gets to my ear she whispers, “You have to sleep sometime.”

I chuckle ominously as I stretch out on top of her on our bed and grind my hips into hers. “I think you’ve forgotten who the lighter sleeper is between the two of us.”

Her eyes flare, and she starts to tremble again, likely a combination of the sudden spike of uncertainty and the grinding. I dip down and press my lips to hers. “I love you, little firefly.”

“I love you, too.”

“Don’t forget that when you wake up tied to the bed one day soon.”

Another nerve shattering orgasm steals her breath. I wait until she comes down again before I kiss her, and love her, and tease and torment, and love her some more.DARREN

One summer later“Someone smells like he could use a diaper change!” Sunny scrunches up her nose and passes off baby Lane to Miller. “It’s your turn this time.”

“You gotta keep an eye on Logan and make sure he’s not feeding Wiener all the cocktail wieners or we’re going to have bigger problems than this stinker right here.” Miller holds the screaming baby at arm’s length, his face contorted into a grimace. “I think it’s the broccoli soup that does this to him.” He heads for the cottage.

“Logan!” Sunny calls out, and I follow her gaze to the table of food set up about twenty feet away.

Her son is indeed feeding cocktail wieners to Wiener. He pulls the treat away every time Wiener gets close so the dog has to jump for them, making his ears flap and Logan burst into a fit of giggles. It’s cute, but if the dog gets the human treat, the cottage is going to smell like rotten dog fart for the rest of the weekend.

“I’ll take Liam; you deal with Logan,” I offer. Turns out the reason Sunny looked so pregnant at the end of last season was because she was incubating two babies instead of one.

Sunny glances from Logan to the squirming kid in her arms to me.