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“Let’s move this to my bedroom,” she suggested. I was up and walking toward her room as soon as the words left her mouth.
Becca stepped out of her jeans and tossed her T-shirt over her head. Her breasts looked even more luscious than usual, straining against the delicate mauve material of her bra. I saw a wet spot blooming on the front of her panties.
I laid back on her queen-sized bed and peeled off my jeans. Becca grinned when she saw my erection. She slung her legs over me and straddled me, kissing me deeply. I grabbed the lace hem of her panties, and Becca hitched her hips upward, letting me peel them off her.
I relished in the softness of her skin. I reached behind her and unhooked her bra, taking her nipple in my mouth as she mounted me and ground down. I let the length of me fill her as I sucked on her perfect nipple. Becca whimpered. I felt her tighten around me as I thrust, filling her as deep as I could. Her hips bucked. It’d been a long week. I’d missed the feeling of her; her scent, her sounds, the hitch in her breath when she was about to come. Becca clutched me closer, digging her nails into my shoulder blades. She kissed me even harder as I thrust, and she came with a cry. The back of her thighs shook as I felt myself release.
Becca rested her head on my chest and snuggled against me.
“How are you feeling now?” I asked.
“Much better,” she murmured.
“Hey, could you get me some water? I still need to take my birth control,” she said with a yawn.
I nodded and got up, grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen and handing it to her. Becca dug through her bedside table until she unearthed her pastel-colored wheel of pills. She broke the foil seal and popped one into her mouth, washing it down in one gulp.
“Is that still giving you … trouble?” I asked.
“Yes and no. I talked to my gyno about lowering my dose like you said, and they did. The headaches stopped. But I’m still really nauseous, even if I take them at night. Plus, I have no idea why but my boobs have gone up a cup size, and they’re super sensitive. Sorry if that’s TMI,” she said, blushing.
“No such thing,” I grinned and palmed one of her gorgeous breasts, feeling her nipple pebble with desire as I stroked it with my thumb. Becca hummed happily.
“They’re super sensitive, but I’m not complaining,” Becca giggled. We continued to laugh and make out, fucking lazily until around two in the morning when we fell asleep in a contented tangle.
Chapter 12
Becca
Becca
Thetrillofmyalarm was a rude awakening the next morning.
I was still encased in Sebastian’s sinewy, strong arms, his hand lazily clutching my hip. It was funny to think how a couple of months ago, we could barely stand to touch each other. Now Sebastian’s touch felt natural and attuned to the rhythms of my body. He knew exactly where to touch me to make me come. His rough hands tenderly fondling the arc of my clit were enough to have me climax within minutes.
I wanted to stay in bed and fuck; to wake up late and grab breakfast, not haul ourselves down to a stuffy bakery filled with dry cakes. Maybe it was because our wedding was now officially only three months away.
My mother finally nailed down the venue. We were scheduled to be married on September second, the last weekend of summer, at an exclusive Hamptons resort. My mother wanted this wedding to double as an end-of-summer blowout party. Most of our parent’s friends already had summer homes in the Hamptons, so the fact that this was technically a destination wedding would not be an issue.
My alarm trilled again. I buried my face in Sebastian’s shoulder as he reached over to turn it off.
“I don’t want to do this,” I pouted.
“Hey, at least your mother invited us to a cake tasting, right? I half expected her to pick out a cake for you.”
“The only reason she invited us is because she hates cake,” I grumbled.
“What? Who hates cake.”
“Regina hates any sort of food that doesn’t act as a harbinger of guilt and shame. She had me on the Atkins diet when I was ten.”
Sebastian got up onto his elbows and looked at me in disbelief. “Ten!”
“Yeah. Puberty made me a little chubby. Or no, not even! Puberty was a normal thing that happened to me, and Regina hated it, so she made me drink slim fast instead of milkshakes for most of my tweens.” It’d taken years for me to deconstruct from my mother’s heinous ideas about body image and food. Some days I still caught myself glancing at myself sideways in the mirror, silently hoping that my stomach didn’t stick out.
In a way, The Cookie Cove was my ultimate attempt to prove her wrong. I wanted to show her that food could be enjoyed, those desserts could connect people and brighten their days, not act as a catalyst for a week-long shame spiral.
I sighed and glanced at my mid-section. I was trying my best not to let it get to me but going on birth control had made me gain weight. I had another fitting for that monstrosity of a dress next week, and I knew my mother would be horrified to discover that the corset would now definitely be working overtime. But it made sense; technically, I was long overdue for disappointing her in a colossal way. Ever since I agreed to marry Sebastian, she’d kept her barbs and quips to a minimum. She was probably saving them up for some sort of blowout fight where she would alphabetically list all the ways I’d disappointed her.
