Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
The smile that crept onto her lips sent a bolt of lust shooting straight to my cock. “Saddle up, Ricky. Yeehaw.”
“If you could have a superpower, what would it be?” Bianca looked at me expectantly from across the tub. After a vigorous bout of rodeo sex, we were both sweaty enough to warrant rinsing off, and she’d talked me into a bath. We were sitting back against opposite ends, bubbles up to our chests.
“Easy,” I said. “I’d want to read minds.”
“Oh my God, that’s the last thing I’d want.”
“Why? It would make you so powerful. You’d be able to outsmart any opponent, win every argument, know every pitch that was coming at you before you had to take a swing.”
She shook her head. “Life is not a baseball game, and some thoughts are meant to be private.”
“Okay, so what superpower would you want?”
“Time travel,” she said. “So I could go back and undo a bunch of stupid mistakes.”
I studied her dripping hair, which was much darker when it was wet—almost burgundy. It made her skin look even more radiant. I liked her face without makeup too. And the fact that she was wearing diamonds in the bathtub. “Like bringing a book to that high school dance?”
She shook her head. “No. I stand by that decision.”
Laughing, I reached for her, tugging her toward me. “Come here, selfish, I have to stretch my legs and you’re taking up all the room at that end of the tub.” Really, it was just an excuse to feel her skin on mine, but she didn’t have to know that.
She floated over to me and lay with her stomach above mine, her hands on my chest. Beneath her hips, my cock stirred. I knew she felt it from the way she looked up at me. Expecting a joke, I was surprised when she didn’t make one. In fact, the look in her eye—maybe I couldn’t read minds, but I was getting pretty good at reading her—was practically an invitation.
“So,” I said, sliding my hands down her back, over her ass. “It’s definitely after midnight.”
“It is.”
I pulled her tighter against me. “I vote we extend the clause until sunrise.”
“I second that vote.”
“Then I believe it is unanimous, Mrs. Moretti.”
She smiled, her eyes going wide, and whispered, “That is so fucking weird.”
“I know. Are you actually going to change your name?”
“I guess. It might look suspicious if I don’t.”
“I think you should.” I really did, and it wasn’t just for appearances. There was something I honestly liked about the idea, although it would have been more fun if she’d hated it.
But she was being uncharacteristically agreeable right now. It was fucking with me.
She drew up her knees on either side of my hips and traced my collarbone with one fingertip, then played with the hair on my chest. “You know, all things considered, this has been a pretty good wedding night.”
I grinned. “Oh yeah? Did I say all the right things?”
“I think so.”
“You think so? Give me something else. I’ll work it in.”
She tipped her head to one side and pursed her lips. “Hmm. Give me a line from Romeo and Juliet. Not the one about dying, please.”
“Okay. Let me think.” I racked my brain, trying to recall a line she would find more romantic. I had a good memory, but it had been fifteen fucking years. “I’ve got it,” I told her.
“I’m listening.”
“O my love, I’ve been really trying. Trying to hold back this feeling for so long. And if, perchance, you feel like I feel, then come on.”
“Enzo!” She splashed me again, her expression outraged. “That is not Shakespeare, that is Marvin Gaye!”
“But I changed it up a little,” I said defensively. “Made it sound fancy and shit.”
“You’re the worst.” She put her hands in my hair and pressed her lips to mine, her tongue slipping between them. “But you make me laugh.”
“I’m about to make you do more than that,” I said, reaching between us to touch her again.
She smiled against my mouth. “Let’s get it on.”
The sun peeked through the drapes the next morning, waking me up.
For a second, I forgot where I was, but as soon as I took a breath, I could smell Bianca’s perfume. I glanced over at her side of the bed, disappointed to find it empty, and then gradually became aware of the shower running in the bathroom. I checked the digital clock on the nightstand—it was just after nine.
Absently, I ran a hand over the rumpled sheets where she’d slept. We’d both fallen asleep fairly quickly after round four, probably around three in the morning. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had so much sex in one night. Maybe never. But I hadn’t been able to stop wanting her.
I’d had a hunch Bianca would be a firecracker in bed, and she was. Feisty, playful, attentive, generous. Even during sex, she liked to bite and tease and scrap, which was fine with me because the struggle only turned me on. And in the end she would always submit to me—why wouldn’t she, when it would result in an orgasm that, in her own words, “made the earth quake?”