Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Before I could get myself too wound up, Rico was back with the pizza box and the cardboard box on top, full of meals because neither of us could pick between pizza or pasta. So we’d picked both. But there was also a plastic bag hanging off of his arm.
When I got up to join him in the kitchen to get some plates and utensils, he was reaching into the bag and drawing out six little pints of dulce de leche ice creams.
Completely unbidden, I felt the sting of tears in my eyes at the gesture. Maybe, to some, it wasn’t that big of a deal. But to someone like me, who’d never known a man who gave a shit about her wants or preferences, it felt huge.
“Sounded good,” he said, trying to play it off as he turned to stash them in the freezer.
“Thank you,” I said, head ducked as I tried to blink back the tears, praying that my voice didn’t betray my emotions.
“Just ice cream,” he said, shrugging it off.
But it wasn’t the ice cream.
It was the thought behind it.
The action on that thought.
That meant more than he could understand.
“Okay, I’m starting to regret not getting the baked ziti too,” Rico said as he pulled the little plastic tops off of our meals.
“We can share. I wouldn’t mind some chicken parm,” I said, handing him a knife and my biggest spoon, so he could portion it out.
“I think our eyes were bigger than our stomachs,” I said as we each brought our pastas and slices of pizza over toward the couch.
“I have faith in us,” he said. “Besides, looks like you’ve been skipping meals lately,” he said.
He wasn’t wrong. I’d been too nauseated to eat most of the time. And when I did, I usually only managed a few bites before I tossed the rest.
I didn’t respond to that, though. It was dangerous ground. Instead, I took a big forkful of my pasta and shoved it in my mouth and gave him a closed-mouth smile.
“That’s more like it,” he agreed, reaching for the remote to make the show start playing again.
It was low pressure, just eating food and watching a show, no need to talk about anything. Which would feel tricky since my entire damn life was a lie at that point. And I was worried that, given enough time speaking, my own guilt would eat at me and made me confess to what I was doing to him.
Afterward, we were too stuffed to move for a long time, just binging through the show for another two episodes.
It was as the third was going through its opening credits that he grabbed my ankles, pulling my feet into his lap, and starting to massage them.
I couldn’t help it. A low, long moan escaped me as his thumb pressed into my arch, massaging away an ache that had been with me for so long that I no longer even noticed it.
“That’s a good sound,” he murmured, doing it again.
It should have been relaxing, not exciting, to get a foot rub. But within moments, I felt little tendrils of need wrapping me up in their web.
I pressed my thighs tightly together, trying to ease the growing ache between.
Rico was onto me, though. And his hands moved from my feet to my ankles, up my calves.
When my thighs fell open, inviting more, he turned on the couch, came over me, and crushed down against me as his lips claimed mine.
I wrapped him up with my arms and legs, holding onto him, writhing against him as the minutes passed and both our needs became too strong to deny.
Rico’s face went into my neck, his breath warm against my skin as I rocked my hips against his hardness.
“Never fucking wanted someone this much,” he murmured, making my heart squeeze in my chest.
My hands slipped down, sneaking under his shirt, moving up the bare skin of his back, then down, sinking into his ass, and pulling him more firmly against me.
“Me either,” I admitted, my teeth nipping his earlobe, making that little rumble move through him, vibrating into me.
Rico sucked in a deep breath, then exhaled hard as he grabbed me, pulling me onto his lap. He waited for me to grab him again before he got to his feet, walking us through my apartment.
He paused halfway down the hallway, slamming me back against the wall, stealing my lips, grinding his cock against me.
Then he was moving again, taking us into my bedroom and kicking the door closed behind us.
We tumbled onto the bed, his weight crushing me into the mattress for a long moment before I threw my weight to roll over on top of him.
Rico sat up, reaching to grab my shirt and whipping it off, tossing it to the side.
“Wanted to take my time with you earlier,” he said, lips meeting the bare skin of my clavicle. “Wanted to hear you fucking screaming my name as I fucked you,” he added, hands sinking into my ass, dragging me against his length until a long, low moan escaped me.