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As I come down, I crumple over her, quaking and sputtering. And she grips my sweaty hair and babbles incoherently about how amazing that was.
When I’ve caught my breath, I lift my head and gaze at Georgie’s gorgeous face, and what I see there is sheer perfection: my own bliss reflected back at me. I’m on fire. High like never before. I pull her up, cradle her back, and devour her full lips with unfettered passion.
“Did you see what happened to me?” she sputters. “Oh my God, Reed. That’s never happened to me before.”
In reply, I kneel between her legs and begin licking up my sweet trophy. And she coos and sighs and laughs through it all.
“Oh, God, Reed. You’re amazing. That was beyond incredible.”
I smile and say nothing. What is there to say? I’ve done exactly what I set out to do. I’ve shown her what her body can do. But only with me.
She’s an addict now.
Newly created.
A junkie hooked on a powerful drug. And that powerful drug... is me.
Chapter 9
Georgina
Freshly showered, I bop into Reed’s kitchen to find him standing at his stove, dressed like a baller, and listening to blaring music. I wrap myself around his free arm, inhale the faint scent of his musky cologne, and swoon from the depths of my soul.
“A man who cooks me breakfast?” I purr. “I can’t think of anything sexier. Well, yes, I can: a man who cooks me breakfast after giving me supernatural orgasms in a sex swing.”
“Oh, you think you’re getting some of this?” he teases, indicating the food he’s stirring in his pan. “Fend for yourself, Ricci. This is all for me.”
I giggle like a fool.
“Someone’s in a good mood.”
“What the hell did you do to me? I feel high.”
He kisses the top of my head.“That tends to happen after a girl has the best orgasm of her life.”
“By far.” I inhale deeply again. “God, that smells amazing. What is it?”
“Scrambled eggs with turkey chorizo, onions, jalapeños, and spinach.”
I give his arm a little squeeze. “I meant your cologne, Tiger. But breakfast smells amazing, too.”
“Did you do a couple shots of tequila before coming down here?”
“Nope. I did a couple shots of Reed Rivers. I’m punch drunk on nothing but you, sexy man.” I give his ass cheek a playful little pinch. “Knowing I’m going to get to be a butterfly caught in your net all week long is making me giddy.”
Reed turns off the burner and reaches for a pepper shaker. “Don’t get too attached to the sex swing. I get bored easily. I like mixing things up.”
“Yes, I’ve stalked you online, remember? I’m well aware you get bored easily and like mixing things up.” It’s a reference to the many different women photographed on Reed’s arm, as I’m sure he realizes—and I instantly regret saying it. Yes, I’ve kept my tone flirty. But it doesn’t take a PhD in psychology to know the comment is borne of insecurity, an uncertainty about the rules of engagement here. After the life-changing sex we just had, I can’t help wanting Reed all to myself. Is that an unreasonable expectation?
Reed puts down his spatula and grabs my shoulders gently. “Georgina, don’t go psycho on me, okay? I meant I’m going to be mixing things up with you, and only you. The mere thought of you kissing another man while you’re working on the special issue makes me want to commit murder.”
I’m tentatively elated. But I can’t help noticing Reed didn’t make that last comment mutual. “And what will you be doing while I’m kissing only you for the entire summer? While I’m working on the special issue, will you be all mine, every bit as much as I’m all yours?”
He looks stern. “Georgina, I told you, quite clearly, the first night we met at the bar: it takes a lot to get me to agree to exclusivity.”
I press my lips together, and he bursts out laughing at the expression on my face.
“Georgina, of course, it goes both ways! Yes, it takes a lot to get me to agree to exclusivity. But, baby, to put it mildly, you’re... a lot.”
I giggle and throw my arms around his neck. “This is going to be so fun.”
He kisses my cheek enthusiastically. “What your body did in the swing this morning was just the beginning. Oh my God. I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”
He kisses me again before we reluctantly disengage from our embrace.
“I’ve instructed Owen to clear my calendar of all nighttime engagements this entire week,” he says. “So I can focus all my attention on you.”
I blush. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. There’s no place I’d rather be, every night this week, than with my butterfly, showing her all the amazing things her body can do.”
I kiss him enthusiastically, and he squeezes my ass with equal fervor, making me squeal. But, finally, it’s time to eat. Reed turns off the blaring music, grabs two plates, and divides the contents of his pan, and then we sit down at a small table in the corner of the kitchen to devour our feast.
