Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
I grin into his kiss, looping my arm around his neck and pulling closer, shifting my body too, so that his cock is cradled between my thighs. “No, I think I’m starting to understand. You just have really good taste,” I tease.
He smiles against my mouth. “I fucking love you.”
“I know you do,” I say playfully.
“I’m never gonna stop.”
“You better not.”
He pulls me back enough so I can look up at him. “I promise I’ll spend the rest of our lives making you so fucking happy.”
I smile softly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “You already do.”
He reaches down between us, his hand sliding against my pussy. I sigh as he uses his fingers to spread me open, then gasp when he pushes his cock into me.
I start to roll onto my back, expecting him to fuck me again, but he stops me, yanking me close and settling me against him. He pulls my hips toward his, shoving his cock deeper. It pulls at my skin on the way in, but I don’t mind. Once he’s buried all the way to the hilt inside me, my tits smashed against his muscled chest, he settles an arm around my waist and just holds me. He closes his eyes, pulling my face into the crook of his neck and caressing the back of my head as I lay against him.
I’m a little confused. “What are you doing?” I whisper.
His blue eyes open and find mine like heat-seeking missiles. “You said I can use your body any way I want, right?”
I nod.
“I’ve missed you. I want to fall asleep inside you tonight.”
My heart skips a beat. I’ve been reluctant for his cock to leave me before, but I never considered that.
Smiling softly, I relax against him. “You have the best ideas.”
He kisses the corner of my mouth, and I let my eyes drift closed.
This is nice.
I lay my hand against his chest and feel the strong beating of his heart beneath my palm.
All mine.
I fall asleep with Tor’s cock inside me, his strong arms wrapped around me, and a peaceful smile tugging at my well-kissed lips.
___
When my eyes open the following morning, it takes a few seconds for me to remember that everything is okay again. More than okay, actually. Everything is perfect.
Once I do, I roll out of bed and stretch. I go to my dresser and pull out a pink satin robe Tor bought for me. I shrug it on and tie the belt so I’m not completely naked, then I sneak to the bathroom to freshen up a little.
I smell breakfast cooking.
My mouth waters.
As I’m washing my hands, my gaze catches on the empty space where my daisy bracelet used to be, and I feel a pinch of regret. More than a pinch, really. I acted rashly when I tossed it, and now I wish I hadn’t, but I’d been so mad at him, so hurt. I already took out the trash, so I can’t even dig it out now.
A little bummed, I nonetheless head to the kitchen where Tor is waiting for me.
I didn’t even come in here last night when I got home. I never made it past the couch. Now I notice the dying roses that I last saw in the vase are gone, replaced by a fresh bouquet of red ones.
I smile. My gaze drifts to Tor, standing shirtless at the stove in a pair of gray sweats that hang low on his hips. God, he’s so good-looking.
“We really have to do something about how hot you are,” I tell him. “It can’t be tolerated.”
He glances at me over his shoulder, his gaze dropping to take in the sight of me before returning to my face. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to like that? Why are you complaining?”
“Because I know that means I’ll always have to deal with women throwing themselves at you.”
He shakes his head, turning his attention back to the stove. “They better not throw themselves too hard. They’ll get hurt.”
I grin, drifting over to the cabinets to grab a couple of glasses. “I’m serious.”
“So am I,” he says, but his tone is light as he looks over at me. “How are you feeling this morning? Other than irrationally jealous.”
I grab my pink oven mitt and swat him with it, causing him to chuckle. Then I put it down and sigh. “Actually, I’m a little sad.”
His amusement clears in an instant. “Why?”
“I did something impulsive when I was mad at you.”
Unconcerned, he uses the wide end of the spatula to move the eggs around the pan. “What’d you do? I’m sure we can fix it.”
Grimacing, I admit, “I threw away my daisy bracelet.”
“Ah.” He nods once, but doesn’t appear surprised.
“Obviously, I regret it now. I loved that bracelet. And I know we could buy a new one, but it’s not the same. You bought it for me when we were in New York, the night we saw Gatsby—”