I cross my arms over my chest. “Absolutely fucking not.”

She opens her mouth, likely to argue her case, but I put up a hand to stop her. “I don’t give a shit if Alex lets Violet emasculate his dick with costumes. That’s their thing. It’s not going to be ours.”

“But I worked so hard on this.” She holds up what appears to be some kind of cape.

I’ve heard about this—not because I want this kind of information, but because sometimes Charlene shares things she probably shouldn’t with me. Apparently living together gives me extra information privileges. I’d be fine without them, but Charlene is chatty before bed at times.

As I take in the array of cape-like designs, I’ll admit—in my head and never out loud—that she’s been very creative. “Still no.”

She bites her lip, clearly trying to come up with a way to convince me to let her dress up my dick like a fucking superhero. Her eyes light up, and a coy smile appears. “I’ll let you tie me up.”

For half a second I get excited by this prospect, and then I cock a brow. “No you won’t.”

She runs a hand up my chest. “With the yellow satin ribbons.”

As enticing as her offer may seem, I know Charlene. “I’ll get one wrist tied to the bed and you’ll change your mind like last time.” She was so cute, and anxious as hell by the time I freed that one wrist. It took me about thirty seconds to make her come. I also got a sweet blow job as a concession.

“I won’t change my mind this time, I promise.” She parts her legs and pulls me between them.

She really doesn’t want to give up on this, apparently.

“Okay,” I concede. “I get to use the yellow satin ribbons. Then you get to dress up my dick with an edible costume.”

Her brows pull together, and I fight a smile. This is clearly not going the way she expected.

“Do we have a deal?”

She huffs. “What about anal instead?”

I scoff. “Baby, you love me in your ass. If I’m going to let you make a fool out of my dick, I better be getting something phenomenal in return.”

She chews on the inside of her lip and starts slipping buttons free on my shirt. Her knees press against the outside of my legs. “What about anal against the window in the front room?”

I like everything about that idea, except the landscapers are here. Usually the whole point is the illusion of an audience, but I have an issue with that today. “No.”

“No?” She tips her head to the side, regarding me curiously. “Why not? The landscapers are working on the garden right under the window, aren’t they? You love that.”

She hops off the stool before I can stop her and rushes for the front room, stripping off her shirt as she goes. I chase after her, her bra smacking me in the chest and dropping to the floor.

Charlene’s all giggles as she glances over her shoulder and pulls her shorts and panties down, kicking them off.

“You’re not playing fair, firefly.”

“Says the man who likes to make me wait all damn day for an orgasm.” She wiggles her ass and slaps her palms against the glass, causing the landscapers to look up. Which is when the reason I said no becomes obvious.

The company who does my landscaping hired a new kid. He’s in his early to mid-twenties and has full sleeves.

She spins around, wearing an amused smile, and thumbs over her shoulder. “So it’s okay when it’s the Ramsbottoms and their poodle wandering by, or ancient Bob, but this new guy is a problem?”

“You’re not checking him out while I’m fucking you.”

“You think I’m going to check him out?”

“I’ve seen the way you eye my tattoo artist. This kid looks almost the same, except less broody.”

“I was trying to figure out the design on his arm, not check him out.”

“Still no.”

She throws her hands up in air. “Oh come on! Stop being so difficult.”

I laugh and thread my fingers in her hair. “I’m always difficult.” I brush my lips over hers. “I appreciate your creativity, but you already own my balls. You’re not dressing up my dick.”

“I’m trying to be fun, Darren.” She pouts. It’s cute. And she’s obviously already worked up, considering the way she’s rubbing her thighs together.

“Stay right here, and don’t move.”

I go back to the kitchen and grab one of the bar stools. Charlene is exactly where I left her when I return, rolling her pearls over her lips. I give her a dark look as I set the stool down in front of the window and hold out a hand. “Have a seat, Charlene.”

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.