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Thankfully, he’s spent all his energy and some and therefore, was out soon after we got home, which gave me a chance to fuck Nicole until dawn.
No kidding.
But this time, I made sure to tell my staff if someone interrupts us in the morning, they’re fired. Since they love Grandpa’s mansion more than their children, they paled and swore on their sacred tea that it wouldn’t happen again.
So I fucked Nicole again in the morning until she whined, then laughed, then sighed into my chest. I love how she snuggles up to me as if I’m her favorite person. As if we’re the only people in the world.
But what I love more is how much she likes the way I touch her, how she doesn’t escape in her head anymore and meets me stroke for stroke.
It’s as if she…trusts me.
My short honeymoon phase came to a halt when Jayden came knocking on our door. He demanded to visit his new friend, Brandon.
Nicole was skeptical about that, but when Uncle Henry offered to take him to Astrid’s and spend the day there, she couldn’t say no.
My schedule for the day was fingering her sweet pussy, eating it for breakfast, fucking it, then doing that all over again—not in that particular order—until we board the plane tomorrow.
Nicole, however, had other plans. She gave me the sloppiest blowjob of all blowjobs that may have transported me to another realm then told me to take her to the cinema if I want another one.
She’s a smart little minx and knew I couldn’t say no to having my dick sucked by her full pink lips.
So we go to see the fucking film. A sappy romantic one that makes my eyes roll to the back of my head.
But it’s fine, I can handle this shit, because another blowjob is waiting for me.
Best currency ever invented.
“It wasn’t that bad.” She shakes her head as we walk through the nearby park. Since it’s early afternoon and the weather is bloody miserable with clouds upon clouds of gray—no surprise there—not so many people are out and about.
Nicole is fucking glowing in a simple white dress and a light peach-colored sweater. Her hair kisses the wind and replaces the non-existent sun, flying all over her face like an angel’s halo.
I can’t even look at her without being blinded, stabbed in the chest, and all these other chaotic emotions.
So I choose to focus on the current conversation instead. “No, it wasn’t bad. It was horrible and fucking cheesy.”
“All good love stories are.”
“All good love stories end in tragedy, Peaches.”
She peeks at me from beneath her lashes, then stares ahead. “I like to reimagine their endings. The tragic love stories, I mean. It used to make me feel giddy when I was younger.”
“I didn’t know you were a hopeless romantic.”
“The worst kind.”
“No wonder your favorite films are romance.”
“Not only romance. I don’t mind action, historical, thriller, or fantasy as long as there’s romance in the midst.”
“You graduated from hopeless romantic and entered the category of a creepy romantic.”
“You have no right to judge when your taste in cinema is boring.”
“Say what now?”
“Quentin Tarantino’s films are your favorites. Can you get any more obvious?”
“Excuse you, Ms. Adler, but his films are nowhere near as boring as your cheesy romances.”
