27

Knox

After giving ponycorn rides for what my back is convinced is fourteen straight months, I declare break time and shoo the little minions back into the bounce castles. It’s probably only been fifteen or twenty minutes, but that’s fifteen or twenty minutes of letting Parker fend for herself, and guilt is seeping in.

As is an intense desire to just be near her.

On my way to find her, I give Troy a man-hug, then pass another to Reid, a buddy from college, now a single dad here on birthday party patrol. “Getting old?” Reid asks with a grin when he catches me rubbing my back, as if he’s not sporting premature gray on his head.

“Your kid kicked me in the kidneys.”

“Good to know her training’s paying off.”

I laugh and head to the taco room.

Didn’t think I’d start anywhere else on a quest to find Parker, did you?

She’s sitting at a side table between Mom and Nana, eyeballing my sister-in-law’s taco spread with lust in her eyes while Nana gestures to the room at large.

“I’m telling you, Buck Tickle is going places,” Nana says. “He got off to a rough start with Pounded in the Peen by my Gayranasaurus Rex Lover, but The Viking Alien Baby Takes A Bride had some decently titillating sex scenes. Although I’m still not sure how I feel about his—”

“Buck Tickle is a self-published train wreck trying to make a dollar off people who like to gawk at car accidents,” Mom interrupts. She tilts her rainbow-colored margarita at Parker. “There are tons of wonderful self-published books in the world, but his are not among them. You should try Maria Geraci. Sweet beach romances. Sexy heroes. But not too sexy. Perfect for an afternoon getaway.”

Steph’s watching Parker bite into a taco. “What do you think? Did I get halfway close to Taco Nation’s chili lime tacos?”

Parker moans. “Oh, yes.”

Fuck, why are we at a birthday party instead of back at her place?

“That’s what Buck Tickle’s heroines say too,” Nana says. “Except the heroes are never halfway close. They’re always—”

Mom growls. “If you say Buck Tickle one more time—”

“I’ll start telling people you’re Buck Tickle,” I finish. “Put it right up there on my blog. With your picture. And I have your friends’ phone numbers.”

“Ha! That would up my street cred in two shakes of your unicorn tail,” Nana replies.

I stop behind Parker and settle a hand on her shoulder. “They’re behaving?” I ask.

“She won’t tell us anything about the wedding,” Nana declares.

“We’re waiting to see when her brothers can all be there before we start making plans.”

We’ll just break up before they figure out we’re fake engaged, she’d said on the way here.

This breaking-up bullshit is giving me more indigestion than a bad can of refried beans.

Do I want to get married?

That was a much easier question to answer a week ago.

But the fact that it’s not a definitive yes still says something, and that’s something I don’t want to think about. Because Parker and I have to end this engagement one way or another, eventually. She doesn’t want to get married. Or have kids. Or give up her single lifestyle. And I don’t want to marry a workaholic.

“Taco time,” Steph declares.

Like magic, the hordes descend in the room. Parents line up to fill their kids’ plates. I tug Parker’s hand and pull her out of the room. “Everything okay?” I ask softly.

She squeezes. “Not as good as staying home would’ve been,” she whispers coyly.

Those hips. Her freckles. That mouth.

She’s in another of her jeans-tank top-light cardigan get-ups, and all those curves are temptation incarnate.

The kids are piling in from the bouncy castles, parents and friends swirling about us, and all I want to do is kiss this woman senseless.

There’s a door to my left. Without thinking, I open it and haul her inside.

Storage closet.

Hallelujah. I light up the room with the flashlight on my phone, put it on a shelf, and lock the door.

She shimmies out of her cardigan, grabs my cheeks, and kisses me with those lips and that tongue and that hot, wet mouth, and it’s all I can do to hang on to her hips and kiss her back.

Her hands slide up under my T-shirt, and then she’s tracing my abs, tweaking my nipples, grabbing my ass, her touch everywhere at once. I put a hand on either side of her, pinning her against the door, and dip my head to suckle her lower lip into my mouth while I part her legs with my knee. “I need to touch you.”

“I need to touch you.” She grinds her pelvis against my thigh and unbuttons my jeans while my cock leaps to full mast so fast my balls get whiplash.

I palm her breasts, and she gasps and arches into me.

“I want to lick every inch of you.” I’m peppering her jaw with kisses. “I want to make you come so hard you can’t remember your name.”

“Yes, please.”

She thrusts her hands into my pants, grabs my cock, and strokes me as though we didn’t do this four times already since last night. “Fuck, Parker, that feels so good.”

She squeezes tighter and pumps. I grab her wrist. “Not so fast. You first.”

“Me—”

I dip my head and suck her nipple through her bra, she gives a muffled cry and rides my thigh harder. Her hands fist in my hair and hold my head to her breast. “More,” she gasps.

I pop the snap on her pants and slide a hand down from her belly, into her panties, and stroke that perfect pussy.

“More,” she pants.

I move to her other nipple, kneading the first between my finger and thumb. It’s so hard, so tight, and her pussy is so slick and ready in my hand. I brush her clit once, twice, and then slide three fingers up into her channel.

A low moan comes from her throat as her orgasm explodes around my fingers, and I almost come right there with her. I’m aching and hard and ready, and she’s squeezing and pumping and riding my hand and biting her lip. The light’s all shadows playing over the ecstasy on her face. It’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve seen all day.

“Ohmygod, I needed that,” she whisper-gasps.

Before I can think, she’s on her knees, whipping my aching cock out of my pants. She cups my balls, licks me from base to tip, and then takes me into her slick mouth. Her tongue twirls around my cock, she gives one hard suck, and—fuck, she’s not even taking me all the way, but she swirls her tongue again, sucks once more. I grip her hair, try to still her, because— “Parker, I’m going to—”

She sucks harder, and I come in her mouth. I come so hard I feel it in my fingernails. The explosion rips through my body, so powerful and overwhelming and all-consuming that glitter sparkles in my vision and my knees buckle.

Holy shit.

“Was that…okay?” she whispers.

I haul her to her feet and clutch her in my arms, half-leaning against the door for support. “Fucking amazing.”

Kids, marriage, my job, her workaholic tendencies—it all flies out the window.

I am not letting this woman go. Not anytime soon anyway.