sounds of his lips against my core. His hands rose to my breasts. He found my nipples and gave them a pinch.
That was all it took.
Christopher stood and caught me before my knees gave out. He held me and kissed me as the tremors stopped. Then he hefted me up and out of the tub.
I was too comatose to protest about my weight. My brain and virtue cried a warning. He was hard against my soft, wet flesh. It would’ve taken nothing for him to steal inside of me.
He’d let me put it in my mouth earlier this morning. It had been awkward at first until I looked up and saw the ecstasy on his face. The feel of him invading my jaws, sliding over my tongue, and spilling his essence down my throat transformed into something beautiful and sensual that I wanted to do again and again. In my mouth, and in other places.
I opened my legs and wrapped them around his waist. His penis behaved, aiming up instead of arrowing inside of me. I didn’t hide my disappointment.
Christopher set me down on the bed and toweled me off. He paid particular attention to my breasts again. I felt the flutters rising within me.
“Careful, you’re getting a little too excited, princess. We don’t want to make a mistake.”
I struggled to remember why that was a bad thing. Then I remembered our deal. We were dating. Well, he was dating me. I’d already planned out our life together. In my mind, my belly was swollen with child number three. My mind would not let go of the idea that I was going to marry this man. It didn’t matter that he didn’t believe in the institution.
For Christopher, dating meant dinner, conversation, and kissing. Kissing anywhere on my body. We’d only been at it for a day. We’d had the house to ourselves. He’d made dinner. There’d been light conversation. But mostly, there was kissing.
“You are so sensitive.” He pressed my thighs together, and then pressed a kiss to my lips. “I could play with you all day, princess. But I have to go to work.”
“You won’t be late. It’s just a few steps from your house.”
“No, my other job.”
“Your mom won’t mind if you’re late,” I said. “She likes me.”
He stood and passed a grin over his shoulder before turning away from me. “I don’t work at my mom’s store.”
I lay naked on this man’s bed, in a house he shared with other men I didn’t really know, and I had no idea how he spent his days.
As though sensing my confusion, Christopher came over to the bed. “I race cars.”
“Like for NASCAR?”
He chuckled. “No. Street racing.”
My brows furled. “Is that legal?”
He waggled his head. “Sometimes yes, sometimes no.”
So that was that. The guy I’d mentally planned my life with, the guy I now had two kids with and was working on number three, that guy was a quasi-criminal. I didn't know what I’d tell the children. He wouldn’t be able to go to Career Day at their elementary school.
“You’re freaking out, aren’t you?” He grasped both my hands and pulled me up until I was sitting before him. Now that I was leveled with his eyes, I saw that there was a speck of wariness there.
I reached up and ran my hand over his eyelids. He let me, turning his face into my fingers and pressing his lips into my palm. My heart squeezed as hard as my core had moments ago.
“I’m not freaking out,” I said.
His lips quirked up. That mischievous grin told me he knew I wasn’t telling him the whole truth.
Instead of owning up to it, I decided to change the conversation. “I’m just thinking about my own work. I’m having trouble with the middle of the book.”
“Tell me. Maybe I can help.” He went into his dresser and pulled a pair of jeans out of a drawer. He stepped into them. Commando.
I stood and pulled my bra and panties on. “The story is an ugly duckling trope.”
He snorted as he put his arms into a button-up shirt. “You amaze me. I don’t know how you write these things you know absolutely nothing about?”
I peered
That was all it took.
Christopher stood and caught me before my knees gave out. He held me and kissed me as the tremors stopped. Then he hefted me up and out of the tub.
I was too comatose to protest about my weight. My brain and virtue cried a warning. He was hard against my soft, wet flesh. It would’ve taken nothing for him to steal inside of me.
He’d let me put it in my mouth earlier this morning. It had been awkward at first until I looked up and saw the ecstasy on his face. The feel of him invading my jaws, sliding over my tongue, and spilling his essence down my throat transformed into something beautiful and sensual that I wanted to do again and again. In my mouth, and in other places.
I opened my legs and wrapped them around his waist. His penis behaved, aiming up instead of arrowing inside of me. I didn’t hide my disappointment.
Christopher set me down on the bed and toweled me off. He paid particular attention to my breasts again. I felt the flutters rising within me.
“Careful, you’re getting a little too excited, princess. We don’t want to make a mistake.”
I struggled to remember why that was a bad thing. Then I remembered our deal. We were dating. Well, he was dating me. I’d already planned out our life together. In my mind, my belly was swollen with child number three. My mind would not let go of the idea that I was going to marry this man. It didn’t matter that he didn’t believe in the institution.
For Christopher, dating meant dinner, conversation, and kissing. Kissing anywhere on my body. We’d only been at it for a day. We’d had the house to ourselves. He’d made dinner. There’d been light conversation. But mostly, there was kissing.
“You are so sensitive.” He pressed my thighs together, and then pressed a kiss to my lips. “I could play with you all day, princess. But I have to go to work.”
“You won’t be late. It’s just a few steps from your house.”
“No, my other job.”
“Your mom won’t mind if you’re late,” I said. “She likes me.”
He stood and passed a grin over his shoulder before turning away from me. “I don’t work at my mom’s store.”
I lay naked on this man’s bed, in a house he shared with other men I didn’t really know, and I had no idea how he spent his days.
As though sensing my confusion, Christopher came over to the bed. “I race cars.”
“Like for NASCAR?”
He chuckled. “No. Street racing.”
My brows furled. “Is that legal?”
He waggled his head. “Sometimes yes, sometimes no.”
So that was that. The guy I’d mentally planned my life with, the guy I now had two kids with and was working on number three, that guy was a quasi-criminal. I didn't know what I’d tell the children. He wouldn’t be able to go to Career Day at their elementary school.
“You’re freaking out, aren’t you?” He grasped both my hands and pulled me up until I was sitting before him. Now that I was leveled with his eyes, I saw that there was a speck of wariness there.
I reached up and ran my hand over his eyelids. He let me, turning his face into my fingers and pressing his lips into my palm. My heart squeezed as hard as my core had moments ago.
“I’m not freaking out,” I said.
His lips quirked up. That mischievous grin told me he knew I wasn’t telling him the whole truth.
Instead of owning up to it, I decided to change the conversation. “I’m just thinking about my own work. I’m having trouble with the middle of the book.”
“Tell me. Maybe I can help.” He went into his dresser and pulled a pair of jeans out of a drawer. He stepped into them. Commando.
I stood and pulled my bra and panties on. “The story is an ugly duckling trope.”
He snorted as he put his arms into a button-up shirt. “You amaze me. I don’t know how you write these things you know absolutely nothing about?”
I peered
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