Can't Get Enough by Tenille Brown Page B

closed in an attempt not to shout out as the intense sensations of climax crashed through every last cell of his body. He couldn’t prevent the odd humming noisehe made, but nobody but Nina would have been able to hear it in any case.
    Nina slumped down onto Owen’s prone form, her cunt still twitching wildly around his shaft as she rode out the waves of her pleasure. They smashed into her, again and again, wringing her out, turning her world upside down in the most perfect, blissful way. It seemed like an age since she’d had an orgasm like that, and she suspected that come bedtime, she’d be eager for another one.
    They lay panting together for a few moments more, until finally Owen cupped his wife’s face in his hands and gave her a long, lingering kiss. He pulled away earlier than he really wanted to, aware that if he carried on much longer, they’d both end up ready and raring to go again, and they were already running the risk of being caught. “Baby,” he said, stroking Nina’s hair, “as much as I’d love to lie here all night with you, and definitely fuck you again, do you think we ought to go inside?”
    Nina sighed. “I suppose so. Ugh.”
    They reluctantly made themselves decent, clambered out of the car and headed into the house. Owen, more out habit than any need for security, pressed the button on his key fob to lock the car, before closing the door to the garage.
    â€œSo,” Nina said as innocently as possible to her husband, having spotted the kids entering the kitchen, “how was your trip, darling? Glad to have you home.”
    â€œIt was fine, sweetheart, thank you. But I couldn’t have wished for a better homecoming. Hi, kids!”

BEFORE THEY BURN
    Beatrix Ellroy
    I hadn’t meant to gasp, biting off a moan, when Aral slapped me on the ass. But I had.
    In all fairness, he had started it, reaching out to steal a cookie from the cooling rack; I’d absentmindedly slapped his hand, still holding the piping bag with my other. But instead of drawing his hand back, like any naughty boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he’d grabbed my wrist.
    He still held it firmly, his fingers circling completely around my wrist like a cuff. When I looked up at him he grinned, crooked and full of challenge, then slapped me on the ass. One big open-handed swat, right on my asscheek. He was looking right at me as he did it, could not have missed the gasp, or the soft moan bitten off as I closed my mouth.
    His smile was broad, but his eyes were dark in the fading light. I snatched my hand back and continued piping the cookies onto the tray, looking down, cursing the blush I knew was rising on my cheeks, the tips of my ears and probably the bare skinabove the low back of my shirt. I usually loved the way it felt, my hair brushing my skin, but I suddenly felt naked, exposed. He disappeared for a moment, and I let go the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
    I ignored the slight trembling in my hands and went back to piping. Guests would be arriving soon and I loved the smell of fresh cookies, the delicate crumble against my tongue. And since it was my birthday, I was going to give myself that small pleasure. And the smell of freshly baked deliciousness always added a little something special to the party, so I usually timed the cooking fairly close. Even so, Aral shouldn’t even have been here, but his plane had arrived late so he’d come straight here instead of the hotel. There was a strange and not unwelcome intimacy to being alone with him in my kitchen, in my house.
    In truth I barely knew him, had only met him once or twice at other parties, at friends’ houses as he traveled through for work. He had always caught my eye, with his dark hair wild and curling, his skin the color of good caramel and the most wicked smile. So he was a distraction, even before his hand came down on my ass.
    When I heard the dull tread