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“I don’t want to come, but you feel so damn good.”
“I want you to come,” she said, pressing her clit harder against his fingers. “And take me with you.”
“Ride my hand. Ride it hard, like I’m going to ride you.” He pulled out, only to fill her again immediately, hard and to the hilt, as promised. Then again. And again. Each thrust drove her down, grinding her clit against his plundering fingers.
Surrounded by the scent of sex and the sound of slippery, smacking bodies, she gave herself over to the spiral of sensation. Let it turn her into a rhythmless, orgasm-addicted nympho.
“Fuuuck…” He breathed the single, drawn-out word into her ear. Rutted on her like a beast in mating season. Then folded himself over her like the exhausted beast he probably was.
“Can’t breathe,” she whispered, when his weight pushed the remaining oxygen from her lungs.
Rather than move away, he wrapped his arms around her and rolled them onto their sides. “There.” He swept back the hair that’d fallen in her face, then planted a lingering kiss on the back of her head. “I don’t want to get up, but I have to get rid of the condom.”
“It’s okay.” Common sense warred with uncommon desire. “About condoms.” She still had time to choose common sense. “I’m on the Pill and don’t want more kids. If we’re going to be exclusive and we both get tested, we could go without. If that’s something that interests you.”
His shifted position, propping on one arm to look down at her. “There’s no ‘if.’ We’re exclusive, I promise you that. And hell yes, I’m interested.”
“Then I’ll make an appointment with my doctor.”
“Same.” His grinning face blurred as he descended. “Can I get you anything?” he asked, rising from the bed after dropping a perfect, sweet kiss on her lips.
Shaking her head, she smiled while openly ogling every inch of him. “I am completely satisfied.” And she was. Not only with the amazing sex they’d just had. With absolutely everything about this man, this relationship. The temptation to backpedal on the boundaries she’d set earlier bubbled up from her heart. Foolish, romantic heart—it wanted the fairytale with Sam.
“Everything okay?” he asked, when she hugged herself.
She nodded. “Just a little chill.” Nothing the heaviness of a reality-check blanket couldn’t fix.
With the hand not holding a well-used condom, he motioned toward the bathroom. “Let’s hop in the shower and get warmed up.”
“Sounds good.” Reality could wait. She knew better than to hope for a fairytale ending with a twenty-eight-year-old man. Tonight, she planned to indulge in fantasy with her favorite Prince Charming.
Chapter 8
LEIGH
Leigh hadn’t been slackingoff at the shop or the gym, but she certainly hadn’t done anything extra. Every unscheduled minute had been filled by Sam. And she did meanfilled, in every sense of the word. It had been a wild and wonderful week.
Reality beckoned, though. The bakery’s email inbox was plump with new orders. Buckling down required if she wanted to be home before Lennox arrived this evening.
In the office, she printed the work orders. First up, an oversized sheet cake for an event at the art gallery. Today. The email had included a pleading note with a promise not to send any more last-minute requests. Ha. History being a more reliable source than the future, she wouldn’t hold her breath on that promise.
Four of the remaining orders had short timelines also, though no other same-day entreaties. Thank goodness. She did her best to accommodate every request, often at the expense of personal time. Lennox and Tim had always supported her, and together, they’d made it work. Now she had Sam to include in the equation. Good thing she exceled at organization and planning, because squeezing more into her already busy life was not going to be simple or easy. The best things rarely were.
Time to get cracking. She tied her apron, secured her hair under a hairnet and scrubbed her hands. Yawning, she clipped the additional worksheets to the rail above her prep counter. The coffee she’d downed in Sam’s kitchen was not having the required effect. Being the picture of good health, he probably drank decaf. She’d have to ask him.
Her attention drifted toward the office. Her cell phone sat in its usual spot, propped against her pen cup. The screen was black, as it would remain for a couple of hours yet. Few people were awake and engaging at five-thirty in the morning.
Sam had been asleep when she left his condo. Though when she’d tiptoed into his bedroom and leaned down to kiss him goodbye, he had woken enough to corral her with his strong, warm arms. Which had led to her lying on top of him. Her, fully dressed and ready to start the day. Him, gloriously naked beneath the summer duvet, his erection growing thicker and more insistent with each second of their pre-dawn make-out session. Leaving had been as hard as his cock.
Temptation had lost that battle, but it won now. She returned to the office and picked up her phone. Maybe he was out of bed. Or maybe not, and he’d send her a sleepy selfie.
Hi. Are you up yet?
Been up been since you teased me, then took off like a sexy thief in the night.
Thieves steal things. I promise I’m not one of those women who take souvenirs from their conquests.
God, she enjoyed texting this man.
