Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
When he’s as deep as he can be, he licks my neck before biting it, before fucking me. Slow, long thrusts at first. But he soon builds up the speed and force. I lock my ankles behind his back and hang on for dear life. He took the request to fuck me seriously. One of his hands slides down my side, gripping my ass cheek nice and tight. My skin is sure to show some small marks tomorrow. And though he tries to kiss me, we’re too frantic, our bodies too demanding. I raise my hips with each thrust, meeting him halfway and urging him on. Faster. Deeper. More. The slap of his skin against mine fills the room along with the scent of sex. If I could bottle and keep it I would.
He builds me back up gradually. I don’t often come twice. I don’t always come at all. But Dean has taken the job of proving we work together in bed to heart, it would seem. And I was a fool to doubt him. The man knows what he’s doing. Our bodies fit just fine. I moan and hold on as tightly as can be. While he angles himself to give me that necessary pressure. It is electric, the way he turns me on. How he blows my mind. Everything in me tenses down low and fuck.
“That’s my good girl,” he mutters. “Come on me, Jude. I need to feel you.”
And I do. My heart is stuck in my throat, and my body just…goes boom. All of the muscles inside of me clench at his cock and the noise he makes. How he swears and slams himself into me. The man knows how to fuck. I really do owe him an apology. Which I will give just as soon as I come down once again from the heavens. His hips buck, and his cock jerks as he comes. The way he holds on to me so tightly is lovely. Like he might never let me go.
Sweat slicks our skin, and his body lies against mine. I love the weight of him. The solidity of being held down against the mattress by his body this way. Other times I was crowded or anxious after sex, but not with him. With him, I feel safe. My limbs are all limp and melty. Like I just got a really great massage or something. And last but not least, my mind is at ease. Dean is, without a doubt, just what I needed.
“You were right,” he mumbles. “We have no chemistry. We absolutely suck in bed.”
I reach down to slap him on the ass just because.
He laughs and groans. “How much sleep do you need?”
“Six hours minimum.”
“Me too. I say we rest for a bit, then we’ll give making love a go.”
I grin. “Sounds good.”
* * * *
The next morning, over Pop-Tarts and coffee, it’s like we’ve been dating for a while. We move in sync, sharing small touches and little kisses in the kitchen. Like our bodies are hyper aware of each other and can’t stand to be apart for long.
It’s just seems so easy to fall into life with Dean. And I don’t want to fight the pull of this happiness and contentment.
Last night, he definitely fucked me. But around 4 a.m., we made love. Slow. Gentle. He kissed every part of my body he could find. Like he was worshiping me. Us. And something shifted in my brain. Instead of wondering if I was doing anything wrong, or if he was thinking of anyone else, I just…let go.
I know he felt it. The change. Because his reverence turned to obsession. Like he couldn’t get enough. Of my taste. My touch. And when I whispered his name with my last orgasm, he plunged deep, hugged me hard, and sighed my name with his release.
He held me until morning and woke me with a smile and a kiss. Along with a cup of coffee.
Extra points for the coffee.
We showered together, which is a new experience I intend to repeat, and then dressed for the day.
“See you tonight,” he says on his way out, a small smile playing at his lips when he kisses me. “Don’t play too hard with the toddler.”
“Don’t worry.” I wink. “I intend to save my playtime for you.”
Yes, I’m corny. But that’s me.
And by the heated look he gives me, he likes me just fine.
Epilogue
One month later…
“This is ridiculous,” I say, standing in the middle of the living room of the main house. Like an idiot.
Jimmy grunts his agreement. As he should.
“No negativity allowed,” announces Malcolm Ericson.
Meanwhile, my loving boyfriend, Dean Jennings, just shrugs and smiles as he leans against the wall. He is totally enjoying this. The jerk. I totally take back my admission of love from a few nights ago. Though he’s not allowed to recant his. For reasons.