Judge Me by Abby Knox (ereader for textbooks .TXT) 📕

fucked. Not until then do I fully realize the danger. As much as I’d love nothing more than to do a hundred more rounds of what we’ve just done, I’m reasonably sure a tree has fallen somewhere nearby, and if I don’t get my girl out of the rain this second, both of us could die.

What a way to go that would be.

Chapter Thirteen

Chloe

Sun shining and little birds chirping wake me the following day, along with a sultry tongue gently teasing between my legs.

A smile crosses my lips when I realize I’m waking up with a man in my bed.

No more waking up alone for me, I think to myself, contentedly.

The next fact I absorb as I wake up is I’m in Phillip’s bed—our bed.

Last night, in the rainstorm in the rose garden, Phillip made all my dreams come true, far beyond what I imagined my first time to be. And now, my soon-to-be husband is gifting me with yet another first.

I lift the sheet and look down my body. I gasp. Watching it is ten times more erotic than in my imagination.

He stops his ministrations and looks up at me. “Good morning, poppet.” He winks at me from between my thighs. Because this man never passes up an opportunity to shock me, his masculine hands spread my thighs wide, and he dips one finger inside my cunt. My face goes slack; I’m dumbfounded watching him pull it out again and pop it into his mouth.

“Oh…my,” I breathe.

“Your baking isn’t the best, but your nethers, on the other hand. Grand prize. Best in show, darling.”

I could be offended, but I’m not. I’ve said exactly that about my baking, so I don’t give a hoot.

How could I be outraged when this man’s multi-talented mouth is currently giving me the ride of my life?

Now that I’m awake, he’s pleasuring me with far more gusto. I appreciate him waking me up gently, but now it’s no-holds-barred. The heat and desire from his adventurous tongue sets off shivers all over my body. My hips arc into his face involuntarily. Does this extraordinary, wonderful man know he’s going to make an unquenchable maniac out of me?

The warm licks, gentle nips, and nudging lips build my pleasure so fast and so hot, I can barely find words. But I have to try. “You’re setting a terrible precedent, you know. I’m going to demand that you wake me like this every morning.”

The filthy noise his mouth makes stops for a moment, and he looks up at me again, his face shining in my juice. I almost cannot handle how much this makes my toes curl with shock and arousal.

“Fair exchange. I’ll bring the bread; you bring the box.”

I gasp. “You’re a filthy, naughty man. I ought to bend you over my knee and…oh my god…Phillip, what are you…oh my…”

I slide into a nonverbal stupor because he’s done it now. Sucked my clit into his mouth and made my body react in a sudden, powerful, mind-numbing orgasm. I shout and spasm, feeling like I might levitate off the bed.

My screams fall silent as I release, my body pulsating, cascading into blissful nothingness.

His sinful mouth refuses to relent, pushing me onward until I’m coming so hard, so many times, I fear I might break in half, and my soul might fly away.

Phillip may be a wicked boy, but his care with me is as impeccable as his baking.

He’s there to catch me when I fall back into the real world.

“Thank you, my darling, my sweet Chloe.”

“Hmm?” My eyes close as he gently tosses me on my side and spoons up behind me, kissing me up and down my neck and shoulder.

“You absolute wrecking ball of rainbows, thank you.”

I feel like a mid-morning cat-nap is in order. We can plan the wedding later.

“Oh, wait,” I say, turning toward him, letting his lips catch me in a kiss. “I never heard how my cake turned out. Did I win?”

He winks at me. “It was perfect. You won.”

I giggle. “No, I didn’t.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. But don’t worry. I think you got what you came here for.”

I so did.

Epilogue

Five years later

Chloe

“Have some Christmas cake.”

I laugh because he must be joking. I’ve seen how this fruitcake thing is made, and it does not look at all appetizing to me. Phillip, my loving baker husband, makes every Christmas morning special with an array of sweets for me to enjoy while we watch the children unwrap gifts. The fruity and pungent Christmas cake is the only thing that looks, to me, uninviting. He does this every year, and every year I refuse.

“No, thank you.”

He’s explained to me again and again that it’s a Christmas family tradition.

I do not care. I’m not eating that brandy-filled piece of sludge that looks like a rotted tree log.

“I insist you at least try it.” He sips his tea as the children scramble around the Christmas tree, squealing over their new presents. Katie and Rufus are already firing up a new video game. My parents. sisters and a brother-in-law are all milling around, adoring their gifts, enjoying their spiked coffee, and casually watching a holiday movie. Dad keeps asking to re-watch my episode on Phillip’s baking show, but my sisters keep shooting down that idea. My understanding is the American episode remains one of the most streamed episodes of the show ever. My biggest internet accomplishment, though, is becoming a GIF. Phillip’s on-screen reaction to my infamous baguette creation has endured, and I feel like that is something to be proud of.

As for my comedy career, it’s gone slightly better than my baking. Not going to lie, my ties to the popular show has opened many doors for me among London comedy clubs. My “tight five” has expanded into a full forty-minute set—how could it not, when I live with such great source material? Of course, I’m under strict instructions