Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
I moved into the living room and approached her, my dick hard in my sweatpants the second I walked in the door. “Even if I had been, I’m definitely not thinking about her now.” I moved to my knees in front of her and slid my hands underneath her body, cradling her so I could tug her toward me.
Her knees pressed tightly together, refusing to give me access to what I wanted most.
“Baby, you know you’re the only one.” I grabbed one knee and forced it back.
She let me move it before she relaxed her legs.
My face moved between her thighs, and I kissed the exposed flesh above her stockings, kissing the soft skin of her inner thighs, slowly inching up higher to the object of my desires. She breathed harder the closer I moved, and then my lips landed on hers, giving her a slow kiss.
She inhaled a deep breath as her head tilted back. Her thighs relaxed even more.
“I’ll make it up to you, Pretty.” I kissed her hard and then harder, hitting her just right to make her writhe on the couch.
Her fingers fisted my hair a moment later, and she ground into me, moaning quietly, sliding farther down the couch. “Axel…”
My arms supported her legs as I kissed her, as I gave her clit the pressure she liked. My tongue moved around and around, swirling the way her fingers did. Her hips started to thrust automatically, and I knew I’d primed her for release.
But I didn’t let her finish.
I moved away and pulled my shirt over my head.
She released a growl that came out as a wince.
I dropped my sweatpants and let my cock free before I positioned her on the couch so I could move between her thighs. I bent her underneath me, her head propped on the armrest. Then I slid inside her, entered the best pussy I’d ever had.
The moan she gave was visceral.
“Sorry, baby.” I thrust into her hard and fast, making the couch shake because I moved so forcefully. “You’re so fucking fine, I couldn’t wait.”
When I woke up the next day, I knew it was early afternoon because of the warmth in the bedroom. The sun pierced the closed curtains and filled it with summer heat. Once I became conscious, I heard all the sounds I loved.
The running water from the faucet in the kitchen. The sound of pans on the stove. The fridge opening then closing. I could smell it too. Smell the bacon best of all. I lay there and treasured it, knowing she was out there in my t-shirt and barefoot.
Once upon a time, my mother used to make breakfast on the weekends. I guess it reminded me of that, which was both a happy memory and also now a sad one. I lay there for several minutes, just listening, treasuring the peace and joy this woman gave me. I was with someone who wanted me for me, not my money, and someone who knew my soul better than my own parents ever did.
It was more than I could ever ask for.
I finally got out of bed and took a quick shower, helping myself to her body soap, her razor to shave my face, and her toothbrush. After a quick towel-dry, I put on my boxers and my sweatpants and headed into the kitchen.
The pans on the stove were still hot and dirty, and the sink was piled with dishes that she’d accumulated, but the table was set with all her masterpieces. There were chocolate croissants, scrambled eggs with gruyère cheese, crispy bacon, and a stack of pancakes. “Morning, baby.”
She turned to me, a smile on her face, my shirt a blanket on her. “Morning, babe.” She rose on her tiptoes and kissed me as she cupped my face.
I pulled her close and grabbed her ass. “Damn, this looks good.”
“The food or my ass?”
I smirked. “Both.”
She smiled then grabbed a mug and filled it with coffee before she placed it on the table.
I sat down across from her, and together, we had a grand breakfast. My chef was classically trained in Paris, but her food was better than his. “Fuck, this is so good. You really have a knack for this.”
She stabbed her fork into her eggs and ignored the compliment.
“You think I’d lie to you?”
“No. But I think you’re biased.”
“I’m not.”
“I fucked you last night and then cooked you breakfast the next morning. Yes, you’re going to be biased.”
“I’d like your food no matter what, but when I say you have the talent of a chef, I mean that. And I’m not saying that just because you have a great pussy.”
She smirked as she looked down at her food.
“It’d be fun if I bought a restaurant and you ran it. Made a bunch of recipes…something we could do together.”