Page 107 of Off Limits Mogul

Rhys is way bigger than my first and since it’s been a while, it feels like I lost my virginity all over again with none of the first-time awkwardness.

My throat is a little sore from screaming out his name so many times from the multiple orgasms.

My God, the manworked me.

I have to go at it slow and steady.

I sit up in bed.

My mind might not welcome boredom, but my body will. I doubt I’ll be able to do much today other than read and lounge.

I rub the remnants of sleep from my eyes and stretch with a yawn.

God, every part of me hurts.

Clatter coming from downstairs echo throughout the house and a sugary scent tickles my nostrils.

Wow. The housekeeper is going above and beyond this morning.

I pull the sheet off my naked body and slide off the bed.

Ouch, ouch, ouch.

This thing is so big, it’s like traveling across two States. When my feet land on the floor, I groan.

My legs feel like lead.

I swear, Rhys’s cock should come with a warning.

I look around, but my dress is nowhere to be found. Neither is his suit. The same goes for my strappy heels and sexy underwear.

My eyes land on one of Rhys’s t-shirts neatly folded on the chaise longue. I pull it over my head to hide my nakedness before making my way to my bedroom, humming a song from the perpetual jukebox playing in my head. I can’t help my smile when I open the door and I’m greeted by my pretty dress neatly laid out on the bed.

He’s so sweet.

I grab the t-shirt and boxer briefs I last wore on Friday, still sitting on the chair where I left them, and make my way to the bathroom. After taking care of business, brushing my teeth, and a quick shower to wake me up, I get dressed in Rhys’s clothing, and sleek back my new blonde hair.

I amble down the stairs and head to the kitchen. Every stepis excruciating, my tender pussy a reminder of my boyfriend’s formidable cock.

The advantage of a great lover is multiple toe-curling orgasms and discovering new sex positions. The downside is, I’m starved. I once read you can burn between one to three hundred calories in a passionate thirty-minute sex-session. My kind of fitness regime.

When I enter the kitchen, I freeze.

Isn’t it Monday today?

Maybe too much fucking makes you lose track of time.

Rhys is standing in front of the waffle iron in nothing but gray boxers, his back to me.

That round ass…

He must feel my presence because he turns around.

“Morning.” He greets me with a wide smile.

“Morning.”

He drops the spatula and plate he’s holding on the counter and approaches.