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We get up and make our way to the kitchen. Rory leans toward the fridge and scratches his jaw through his beard. “You don’t have much,” he says. “But I think I can whip up some egg sandwiches. How does that sound?”
“Great,” I say. And it does. I’m starting to love real bread with actual gluten. I don’t know how I’ll ever go back to my pre-cancer diet. I purse my lips because this is the first time I’ve caught myself making plans for the future, and I have the sickening sensation in my stomach that this new outlook has everything to do with the redhead with the broken sternum.
Which reminds me of his scar. Is it okay to ask now? I understood he didn’t want to say before. I thought maybe he didn’t want to ruin the moment, butwhenwould it be okay to ask?
He’s a one-night-stand, so maybe it’s better to not ask at all.Don’t get personal, Valentina. This is just for today.
Rory places several items from the fridge on the counter, and I watch him from my spot at the bar. I’m sitting with my arms propped on the bar top so he can have a view of my breasts as he works. My breasts swell over my forearms, and I smile at him.
He looks up at me, and the corner of his mouth quirks up into a sexy smile. “Fuck breakfast. I’m eating you instead,” he says and walks around the bar to me. He takes me by surprise and lifts me to reposition me on the barstool, so I face away from the counter. Kneeling, his face is at the level of my sex. My entire body blushes, and I almost want to close my legs. What the hell? I’m not shy.
“No.” He grabs my knees and pushes them wide to expose me fully to his face. “Don’t close your legs.” He slides his fingers down the length of my folds. “You’re beautiful,” he says in a husky voice. I found Rory’s deep voice sexy to begin with, but when it deepens further with his arousal, that sexiness reaches an entirely different level.
My chest expands with each labored breath, and I nod. He plays with the black curls of my pubic hair and presses a finger to my clit, sending my head back with pleasure. I’m so sensitive from our time together in bed, and the sensation is so extreme, my face twists into a grimace he can’t see. I feel his tongue on me next, and my head snaps down to look at him. His tongue is circling my clit, but not touching it in a teasing motion. His head moves between my legs as he teases at my entrance with his tongue, and the view of his red mane between my legs is the most erotic thing I have ever seen in my life.
My fingers find their way to his hair and tug on it lightly. I keep his head in place where I want him, and a moan escapes him. “Rory,” I purr his name. “That feels amazing.” He rewards my praise by pressing his tongue to my swollen clit, and my legs start to quiver. His hands are keeping my legs apart, his grip tightening over my inner thighs. I’m so sensitive, that familiar coil starts building in my core almost instantly. His lips enclose around my clit so he can suck on it gently, and I can’t take it anymore. My hands fist his hair, and my abdomen convulses as I climax onto his tongue. He doesn’t stop, and the orgasm keeps going. I had no idea an orgasm could stretch out that long. Rory Dennis has a magic tongue.
I can’t take the maddening ongoing release anymore, and I start to beg. “Rory, please, Rory, stop!”
He encircles his tongue around my clit one last time and finally comes up for air. My legs shake as he trails kisses up my lower abdomen, licks a circle around my belly button, and trails his tongue to my neck. He stops to nibble at my jaw and finishes with a sensual kiss that lets me taste myself on his lips. He parts from my mouth to study my face, and his smirk is cocky, like he is so damn proud of himself.
“That was yummy,” I say, coming down from my fuck-drunk state.
“Indeed.” Rory chuckles.
I look down, and he is starting to harden again, though he isn’t at his full size yet. I reach for the waistband of his boxer-briefs, but he grabs my wrist with a shake of his head. “No. That was just for you.”
“Rory—” I protest because I want my turn, but he kisses me into silence.
“One down,” he says when his mouth leaves mine.
“What?”
“I told you I was going to make you come five more times before I leave today. Four more to go.”
I blink slowly at him. This man can’t be serious. I don’t know if I can handle four more.
“I’m a man of my word, Valentina. You’ll see.” He pulls away from me and goes back to his work in the kitchen.
I blink after him, too stunned for words. It was odd how this day started, with him shy about his chest, but the moment I licked his scar, Rory came out of his shell. I smile at him, glad he could open up to me, even if only sexually.
I go to the restroom to clean up a bit, and when I get back, he winks at me, starts chopping onions, and tosses them into butter on a hot pan. He moves quickly, like he knows this kitchen. Before I know it, the smell of butter and eggs has my stomach grumbling.
“Here.” He places the egg sandwich in front of me before coming around the counter to sit next to me.
“Thanks,” I say, and we both dig in. “This is great,” I offer after the first bite. He smiles and keeps chewing but squeezes my thigh.
“Valentina, how do you say ‘sandwich’ in Spanish?” he asks between bites.
I laugh. “How do you say ‘taco’ in English?”
Rory turns to me slowly, a large bite bulging his right cheek, and he blinks. He starts laughing and trying to swallow at the same time, which makes him cough. He takes a sip of water, and when he successfully swallows, he faces me again. “I don’t think our Spanish lessons are going very well so far. Maybe I should give up?”
I laugh. “No, don’t give up. Spanish is a beautiful language. And in your defense, there is a word for sandwich, but it’s not really used. A lot of people wouldn’t even know what it is. At least in Mexico.”
“So you just call it sandwich, then?”
I nod. “But you have to pronounce it in Spanish.”
