All Hallows Heartbreaker by Delilah Devlin

deeply into the pepperoni,” Quentin said, with wry humor in his voice, “may I have a word with you, Dylan?” His gaze flickered over Emmy, assessing, almost clinical. “Doesn’t she put you in mind of a Boticelli?”
    Emmy removed her hands from her breasts and let her arms fall to her side on the floor. He was the one interrupting coitus. She didn’t have a thing to feel ashamed of. Besides, if she was honest she enjoyed his perusal.
    Dylan scowled. One of his sexiest looks, Emmy thought. As worthy as any Calvin Klein pout. “Quentin, is there a purpose to this interruption?” he said, his teeth gritted.
    “I just wanted to remind you that you have a meeting to attend later.” Quentin’s smile fell short of innocent. “And to bring you pillows.” He indicated to the bundle beneath his arm.
    Dylan raised a hand and caught the pillows as they were tossed. “Now, get lost.”
    Quentin winked, then turned on his heels and left.
    “Where were we?” Dylan asked, urging her with a hand to lift her hips.
    Unclasping her thighs, she put her feet flat on the floor and pushed up. “Swallowing sausage?” she asked, grinning.
    He slid one of the pillows beneath her hips. “No, going vegetarian.” He pressed her knees apart.
    Feeling overexposed, Emmy placed a hand over her pussy. “I’ll take cucumber.”
    He raised a pointed finger. “I’m bringing the carrot.”
    She rolled her eyes. “I think this analogy is getting tired.”
    “I agree. Too much roughage.” His gaze dropped to her open thighs. “I’m up for something…creamier.”
    “Potatoes?”
    He lifted one eyebrow.
    “All right, I promise to shut up. If you put your tongue to better use as well.”
    Dylan bent and kissed her inner thigh, nipping gently toward her core.
    Emmy groaned, eager for the lash of his rough tongue.
    He didn’t disappoint. He stroked long laps over her outer lips, alternating with short darts between that fluttered against her clitoris.
    Liquid seeped from inside her, bathing her vagina, and her legs turned to jelly, falling farther apart.
    He dipped inside. “Ambrosia.” He moaned, and the sound vibrated on her sensitive flesh. His tongue delved deeper.
    Her hips rose. “I like carrots. Diced, sliced, puréed.” His finger pushed inside and swirled.
    “Raw. Whole. I love them whole!” She reached between her legs and spread her labia, pulling up to expose her clit. “Did I mention cucumbers?”
    He lifted his head, his gaze spearing her. “I thought you were going to be quiet.”
    “It’s not something I can help. I get excited and my mouth can’t stop. Oh!” Emmy arched her back when a second finger joined the first. She squeezed her inner muscles. Nothing like a little girly calisthenics to entice a man to do the dirty.
    Her hips pumped, shallow pulses as she concentrated on the sensation of his fingers deep inside. “You know a little tongue action would go a long way here.”
    “You’ve no patience, dear. Good things come—”
    “To she who waits. I know, I know. But I was thinking of a new Confucianism.”
    He nipped her inner thigh again. “Is that even a word?”
    “Pay attention. I think ‘A good cum comes to she who does it herself!’” She reached with her other hand and touched a finger to her clit.
    “Uh uh.” His hand closed over hers and pushed it away. “No cheating. You see, I think three carrots beat a cucumber any day.” He slid three fingers into her.
    Her eyes closed and her mouth rounded around a breathless ‘O’. “Are you raising me?” she asked, her voice held a plaintive note.
    “Are we switching from vegetables to poker?”
    She raised and rested on her elbows. “I’m just hoping for more poke.” She raised an eyebrow. A direct challenge.
    “To hell with vegetables.” He withdrew his fingers. “Just turn over.”
    Emmy’s heart pounded in her chest. Now! He’d cram every incredibly edible inch of himself inside her now. She turned onto her stomach, and then