Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
I writhed in ecstasy, opening myself to him in every way possible. It was so good, but it wasn’t enough.
Scott read my mind. He released me and sat on his heels to add lube to his sheathed dick before lining himself at my puckered entrance. And then he pushed. My breath hitched at the intrusion. I’d been here many times and I knew how good it was after the first shock of pain faded, but darn it, he was big.
“You okay?” He went still and held himself above me.
I wiped sweat from my brow, nodding as I hiked my legs around his waist. “Yeah, just…go slow. It’s been a while.”
He kissed my nose in silent acknowledgment and began to move. Slow and steady, chasing away pain with every roll and sway of his hips till I was reduced to a blissed-out, horny, happy mess. I flung my left arm over his shoulder and gripped my cock with my right, jacking myself to the rhythm he set.
“Fuck, you feel so good. So fucking good,” he grunted, plundering my mouth as he upped his pace.
The room echoed with the steady thump of the headboard hitting the wall, the creak of bedsprings, and our labored breathing peppered with the occasional, “Oh, yes. Oh, fuck. Oh, oh, ungh!”
I’d been told I was a tad vocal during sex, and no doubt I made a racket as I lifted my hips, straining to meet him thrust for thrust. I wasn’t going to last, though. I was too close already and I—
“I’m coming.” My release shook me to my core. I trembled like a leaf as cum shot between us.
Scott didn’t stop. In fact, he moved like thunder, chasing his orgasm to the finish line, and roaring when it hit him a few seconds later.
He collapsed on top of me, then rolled off and flashed a winning smile.
Everything was a blur in the aftermath. He might have spoken or maybe I did. I was fairly sure there was a trip to the bathroom for a much-needed shower. I remembered diving back into bed and making out till my lips were sore.
God, I loved this. I loved England, sex, new adventures, airplanes, trains, and this little apartment over this fabulous bakery.
In fact, this was my new favorite place and Scott was my new favorite person.
And on that vaguely alarming thought, I passed out…naked in his arms.
6
Scott
My eyes flitted open at the usual ungodly hour they did every morning. I studied the slice of moonlight across my duvet before zeroing in on the man snoring softly beside me.
Oh.
Fuck.
Please tell me this didn’t happen.
It was one thing to bring someone home and quite another to have a damn sleepover.
With Theo.
I did not do sleepovers. Ever. They led to unrealistic expectations and awkward morning-after conversations. He’d been as concerned as I was that he make the last train to Bradford-on-Avon, so…how did we get here?
I licked my lips as I studied Theo’s shadowy features. He lay facing me with his hand tucked under his right ear, his blond hair matted to the pillow, and those long lashes feathering his cheeks. He looked like a fucking angel. I was pretty sure that made me the devil in this scenario.
I swiped my palm over my beard and strategized my exit as I replayed my favorite highlights from last night. I remembered taking a catnap after round one. We’d taken a shower together, which hadn’t been easy ’cause my bathroom had been built with elves in mind. But we’d already proved we were good at navigating tight spaces, and…I hadn’t been able to resist Theo.
One minute he was telling me about the healing qualities of nutmeg; then I was cupping my balls as I turned on the water, and saying something cheesy about showing him some nutmeg. It was stupid and silly, but for some reason, we found it hysterical.
When our laughter faded, we’d lunged for each other, fusing our mouths as we moaned greedily under the warm water. We’d parted long enough to wash up. I’d insisted on taking care of him, soaping his cock and balls, and letting water sluice over his pale skin before sinking to my knees to suck him dry while stroking myself to the finish line.
I vaguely recalled leaning against his thigh, completely dazed. It had taken longer than it should have to recover from that orgasm and get to my feet again. We’d made out with lazy, sweet kisses until the water ran cold. That was when I should have sent him on his way, but I missed my cue.
So instead, we’d dried off, redressed, and headed downstairs to the bakery for the tour I’d promised earlier.
He’d run his fingers reverently over the butcher block island anchoring the room and scanned the open shelves filled with mixing bowls, baking pans, and tubs of flour, sugars, and spices. He’d oohed and aahed over the skylights in the high ceilings, gushed over the appliances, and seemed oddly enchanted by weird details—like the neatly folded blue-and-white striped dish towels stacked on a shelf near a hook laden with clean aprons.