Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
His control snapped then as he yanked at my panties, and I felt them slide down my legs, all but forgotten by the time they pooled on the floor.
But then he was moving, gathering up my skirt, and starting to lower down.
“Wait!”
The sound was a panicked shriek, making his head jerk up to look at me, brows furrowed.
“I want to shower first,” I insisted.
“Baby,” he said, tone patient, understanding. “I want to taste you, not soap,” he said, ducking his head again.
There was a pause, waiting for me to object again, but I couldn’t seem to find the words.
And then he was on his knees, my leg was draped over his shoulder, and his face was between my thighs.
A shudder racked my system as I felt his tongue gliding up my cleft, the cold shock of his tongue ring dragging a moan out of me.
Everything else fell away right then.
My car that needed towing.
The pancakes that needed cooking.
Vega in the other room.
Even the possible repercussions of this decision.
All there was in the world was him, and the sensations he was creating inside of me.
My legs felt shaky, my breath uneven and frantic.
My skirt had fallen, shielding most of Cesare from view even as his tongue traced over my clit, creating little sparks of pleasure as the need built in my system.
His hand slipped between us, two of his fingers moving inside of me again, creating more intense sensations as they began to thrust as his tongue continued its sweet torment.
I’d never been able to relax enough to enjoy this before.
For the partners who’d insisted, I’d been wooden and uncomfortable until they gave up.
But Cesare’s words were still floating around my mind.
I want to taste you.
Like he was craving it.
Like the only way to be satiated was to consume me.
Which was what it felt like he was doing.
I’d never felt quite so in my body before, my mind free of worries, nothing to focus on but the pleasure as it rose upward, then peaked.
My cries were muffled thanks to the breathlessness I felt as the waves crashed through me over and over, making my thighs weak enough that I needed to grasp the counter as Cesare kept working me, dragging out the pleasure until I was completely sated.
It was then, right then, that I heard the bathroom door open.
Cesare seemed to hear it as well, rushing out from under my skirt, grabbing my panties as he went, stuffing them into the pocket of the sweatpants as I turned, flicking the heat back on, and dropping batter into an unheated pan.
I should have known better than to overreact.
Vega never remembered to bring her clothes into the bathroom. So she always wrapped herself in a towel and walked to her room to dress.
Still, my heartbeat was hammering, my pulse a strange fluttering sensation in my neck and wrists and, well, groin.
Seeming to sense my desire not to talk about it, Cesare moved away, his hand brushing my lower back as he went into the living room, gathering his clothes, and making his way into the bathroom.
I don’t think I took a proper breath until I heard that door close.
I was saved from overthinking about it as I remembered to call the tow. Then as Vega came out of the bedroom, her hair pulled back into a clip, wearing pinstripe dress pants, heels, a black shirt, and carrying her black jacket with her.
If she noticed I should have been further along with my cooking, she didn’t mention it as she gathered some plates, syrup, and butter.
When the door to the bathroom opened, I felt myself jump, then glanced at Vega, wondering if she saw my guilty gaze.
But she was focused on Cesare, who stopped mid-stride as he looked at her. His dark brow rose as a smile tugged at his lips.
“Almost didn’t recognize you,” he admitted, shaking his head.
“Obnoxious, isn’t it?” she asked, gesturing toward her outfit.
“Dunno. Think suits scream power. Which is never a bad thing,” he told her as he slipped his watch on his wrist.
“Wait, where are you going?” Vega asked, making me look up to see that, sure enough, he was heading toward the door. “Don’t you want to stay for breakfast?”
“You know what?” he asked, shooting the barest of smirks in my direction. “I’m actually full.”
And with that, he was gone.
“That was weird,” Vega decided, stealing a lukewarm pancake off of the plate. “It was almost like he got a mouthful of pussy,” she added, then her eyes went huge as she turned to look at me fully. “Meredith!” she hissed, mouth gaping.
“What?” I asked, playing dumb as I flipped a pale pancake.
“Did you serve him breakfast? On his knees? In this very kitchen?”
I couldn’t lie.
Not to her.
So I said nothing.
“Oh, my God. That’s hot. Holy shit. I am so fucking proud of you!” she said, wrapping her arms around me, and squeezing me tight. “This is too good. I need all the details!”