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It’s a struggle to catch my breath.
She isn’t faring much better.
She’s a beautiful trembling, sweaty mess, spent and satiated.
I lower my chest to her back and wrap my arms around her body as I drop a trail of soft kisses across her shoulders. “Talk to me.”
She turns her head to the side.
I lift my eyes to meet hers.
“I like being your friend,” she says.
“It’s mutual.” I chuckle. “We’re going to have a lot of dirty, naughty fun Love that book.”
Chapter 20
Arianne
Europe is Europe, but it has nothing on the breathtaking sight stretching before me—LA at dawn. The canvas of warm colors painting the skyline in the early morning hour is sublime.
The City of Angels is barely waking up, but I’ve been standing on the balcony of my sublet for half an hour in nothing more than a loose-fitting t-shirt—no panties—a first—as I enjoy the view. Since I couldn’t sleep, I figured what better way to ease into my day.
When sleep eludes me, it’s because of my never-ending to-do list on a project, the stress of not letting people down, the worry of not measuring up to my last stellar performance or the anxiety of potentially failing.
Not today.
My body is still humming from my sizzling-hot encounter with a blue-eyed god. As much as I wanted things to go further, Beckett insists the wait will only make it better. He’s already given me the most thrilling sexual experience of my life. I can’t imagine what better even looks like.
After Beckett slipped out of my apartment, I went to sleep wet and aching, remembering the feel of his thick cock between my ass cheeks. God, that was so perverted. I’ve never done anything that kinky, and I’m not ashamed to say I want more. Pleasuring myself alone isn’t nearly as earth-shattering as pleasuring myself under his watchful eye.
It’s no surprise he’s an insane lover, but I didn’t expect the bad boy to make me feel like I was the most beautiful woman in the world. Thank you, Beckett Christensen! To add icing on the cake, I sure as hell never knew a few hours of filthy pleasures with the right guy could make me feel invincible.
Take that, Chance. My vulva IS good enough!
I know better than to send my ex a snarky text message to inform him that germ-filled bodily fluids are heavenly, but I’d love nothing more than to rub my newfound brazen-self in his jackass face.
My phone rings.
I rush inside to grab it.
Since Phoebe is already on a plane back to LA, I know it isn’t her calling. And I doubt it’s Beckett. He sent me a text message when he reached his car after leaving my place and another one when he reached his home to thank me for an incredible night.
My feet won’t be touching the ground anytime soon.
“Mom,” I say, picking up.
“Oh, honey, I didn’t expect to catch you. Isn’t it a little early for you?” she asks.
“Good morning, Mom.”
“Where are my manners? Good morning, honey. It’s only five-thirty your time. Why are you up so early?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Too much partying with a hot guy will do that to a lassie,” she says in an exaggerated Scottish accent.
Huh?
