Doing It for Love(47)

"You're going to drown yourself if you kiss there."

"I'll use my wickedly talented fingers."

"Ooooooooooohhhhhhhhhh … " There's Chocolateville in the distance again. Erogenous zone number six is by far my favorite. His thumbs gently massage my inner thighs while his fingers take care of my ass, and I have no idea how he's keeping his balance with what he's doing to me.

"Can you come inside now?" I moan, and it takes him two Mississippis to grant my request.

"Mmm … " I muse, settling my arms around his neck.



       
         
       
        

"What?"

"I've never done it in a tub before. The one at home is too small."

"I've done it in there."

I stop moving my hips with him and give him a look.

"I mean, it was with myself," he explains, and I laugh. He twitches inside me, and I tap the back of Landon's head.

"Trying to make me laugh?"

"It's like a hug."

"So I've heard."

We start moving again, the slow lap of the water rising enough to spill from the tub. I have to adjust a couple times because my back starts panging, and when I lose concentration I slip too far down into the water.

Landon rests his forehead on mine, letting out a long breath. He's so sexy, his muscles straining as he keeps himself over me, his nose bumping into mine as he tries to kiss me and grind into me at the same time. He's mine, damn it. I capture his lips, kissing him as hard and passionately as I can because it feels so good to be here with him. And it doesn't feel like we're peas and carrots, or even strawberries and whipped cream right now. It feels like we're the main course, the meat and potatoes of the entire meal.

I open my eyes when he breaks our kiss to keep pumping into me. There's a vein in his forehead becoming more and more prominent, and I settle my hands on his smooth jaw.

"Stop."

He looks back at me, still in the water. "You don't want to … ?"

"Stop overthinking. I'm enjoying this, Landon."

He drops his head onto my shoulder. "I know. I just … you need to be whipped cream or whatever the hell it was you said, and I've already screwed up once and-"

"Landon."

"Yeah?"

"Play with me."

He leans up. "What?"

"Just play with me. Have fun."

The corner of his mouth quirks, and he slides back in the tub, out of me, and pulls me up against him. His hands are on my ass, and he kicks the plug from the drain.

"Hold on to me," he says with a wicked grin, and his hand takes a dive under the water and finds the hallelujah erogenous zone.

My nails dig into his forearm, and that's about all I can concentrate on as sparks fly behind my eyes. The dip in my lower abdomen drops ten thousand feet, then jumps back up and up and up, and I bite down onto Landon's shoulder to muffle the scream.

Ten Mississippis. That's how long it takes for me to plummet into the biggest piece of double-fudge raspberry cheesecake.

He slides his hand up to my cheek, and I can barely make out his burning, lust-filled eyes through my satisfied haze.

"Looks like I've still got it, too," he says, and if I had any energy left I'd playfully smack the smirk from his face. 

The rest of the water drains from the tub. Landon picks me up and we slip on the wet floor, but it doesn't matter, because he's rushing me to the king-sized bed. But we don't jump in. We stay standing next to it, his hands grasping at my face, holding my lips to his, and the Land of Liz is ready for another visit from Lord Landon.

"Make love to me," I demand against his bottom lip. I feel him smile, and he pushes me back onto the mattress. My body bounces, and I can tell he enjoys the show the ladies give him.

His fingers splay across my abdomen, the angel butterflies beat their wings against his fingertips, and then he wraps his hands around my hips. The sheets stick to my butt as he pulls me to the edge of the mattress and slides in. We groan in unison again, and this time it's him who races to Chocolateville, hips rocking and rocking with no prelude, and it's okay, because I am so there with him.

"Please … don't … stop … " I can see the cheesecake skydive. He's driving me to it, pushing and pushing on my shoulders, and I climb onto the lift, throat getting sore as I scream out. The butterflies in my stomach dive-bomb, and I'm only half aware that I'm biting down on Landon's shoulder again, muffling unintelligibles.

And I fall. I fall so fast and so hard I can't see straight. It knocks the breath straight from my lungs, fireworks burst behind my eyeballs, and I taste the epitome of chocolate. It seems to last forever, and he's still rocking into me. The thrusters have not ceased, and they continue to rub and please as I find my breath and blink my eyes open.

Landon smirks, and his hips slow.

"Did … did you not … ?" I ask, my mind still trying to figure out where I am.

"It's okay," he says in a horrible impression of my voice. "Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't."

"You're a butt."

"This butt can keep going if you want."

I laugh at his awfully proud grin. My eyes drift to his shoulder, where I've left decent teeth marks. The lady bits perk up again.

"Yes, please."

He gives me a wicked smile before he twists me around, the upper half of my body on the fluffy comforter and legs on the floor, and we go to pound town. I call out "strawberries, strawberries!" I make no sense and I don't care, because Landon takes me to chocolate heaven, which is like the Olympus of Chocolateville.

Five Mississippis. And I dive back into that cheesecake.

I kick Landon away briefly, only to tug him back. I settle against the mattress, pulling him with me, clinging onto those damn fine arms and smiling like a dope on marijuana brownies. I grip his hands, set them firmly on my breasts, and no lie, say, "The ladies are all yours."

He laughs and kisses his way around my chest. Our five minutes of rough and hard dark chocolate turns into a soft melody of angel cake. He loves my chest, my stomach, my inner thighs.

"I want to play with you till morning," he says, breath warm against erogenous zone number six.

"We … we have a plane to catch in the morning," I whisper to the ceiling. Landon comes up from between my legs and starts kissing zone number two.

"Bahamas, here we come."

"You're so funny."

"Thanks. But I'm not trying to be funny right now."

"Just trying to rub it in."

He stops kissing my neck and leans up. "Rub what in? You won … "

"No, I didn't."

"Yeah, you did."

"No … I forced your hands on the lady bits. I'm packed for Utah."



       
         
       
        

"Are you really?"

"I even brought my cute boots."

His smile lines deepen. "I packed for the Bahamas."

"Well, repack. We're going to Utah."

"Why?"

"Because I lost." I reach up and run my hand through his dark hair that's already dry from the tub. "And because I love you. We should go there."

"I love you. We should go to the Bahamas."

"We're arguing in the middle of our sexfest."

He quirks a grin. "So does that make us peas and carrots again?"

I pull him down to my lips. "We're good together."

"But we should shut up so we can get to dessert."

"Mmmhmm."

He takes my hands, holds them over my head, and settles on top of me.

"All right, Mrs. Wangford. This time when I take you to the stars, remember to say my name and not some fruit's."

I laugh, and he groans as my muscles lock around him. And he lets me taste all the treats in Chocolateville. Four more times.





Chapter 38


We don't catch a flight the next morning. We never make it out of the hotel.

Instead we wake up in each other's arms, watch reruns of Friends, and Landon calls the front desk and gets a room for the next week. We just need a hotel anyway, because the only sights we're seeing are on each other.

Then we make love again, and one more time, then fight over who gets to open the biggest present when we get home.

I like this marriage thing, because it's the best of all of us. We get to be the whole meal. The appetizer, the entrée, the luxurious dessert …

And yes, the peas and the carrots.





Epilogue


JULY





Landon


"This thing is impossible to pee on!" Liz shouts through the bathroom door. I chuckle and adjust my hat, trying my best to stay calm, but my heart's beating clean out of my chest.

"You want me to come in and help you?" I joke. She's gonna yell at me for it.

"Don't you dare! And stop pacing outside the door. You're making me nervous."

"Let me in. I'll push on your bladder."

"Go wait on the bed!"

She doesn't even know how nervous I am, and I'm not the one who has to wiz on a popsicle stick. But the second she told me she was a week late I started talking to myself whenever she wasn't looking and checking the bank account. Now that The Walking Stiff got a contract, we've got a nice chunk of change in savings. But who knows how long that'll last. Liz is better at taking care of that stuff, so I trust her to tell me if we're in deep shit or not.