Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 89674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“Ahh fuck yes! I’m coming.” The husky and ragged words rumbled through our room.
“Together,” Dash commanded. He slammed into me one last time. My ass clamped down around his cock. I shook with pleasure as he rode out his orgasm. I traced the indentations on my stomach. Dash collapsed face down on top of me, absolutely still. That was just fine with me. We could stay just like this together for a lifetime.
Dash’s cock slipped from me, and he lifted his head, pushing himself up enough to press his lips against mine.
“Mind-blowing. Thank you,” he whispered with puffs of breath given in irregular intervals. He was coasting on the afterglow.
“It’s always that way.” A secure sleep pulled me under.
16: The Next Morning
Dash
Eggs, check. I placed those on the counter. Bacon, check, check. That unopened package landed beside the eggs. Biscuits, butter, and milk followed, though more gently. I shut the refrigerator door only to tug it open again. Beau liked shredded cheddar cheese on his eggs. That bag slid next to the bacon.
Staring at the bounty, I realized two things: First, it had been years since I’d been to the grocery store, and second, I hadn’t had a home-cooked meal in about that same time. Huh. I surveyed the items and decided to start with the bacon. Beau’s favorite artery-clogging meat. After that, I’d tackle the biscuits, scramble the eggs, then make the pepper country gravy from scratch. Beau had introduced me to the delights of well-made biscuits and gravy.
I tightened the belt to my robe and swiped my freshly filled coffee mug from the base of the Keurig. My quest was to make my guy breakfast in bed. With the press of the bake button, I set the oven to preheat and readied the skillet for the bacon.
So far, so good until I got twisted up searching for the sheet pans. I opened and closed all the cabinet doors and drawers, pulling out all the cookware I thought I needed, and found the pan in the last cabinet. Why did anyone need so much storage space?
My cell phone buzzed and vibrated on the counter. It couldn’t be much earlier than six in the morning, but phone etiquette was tossed out the window since working directly for Lon. I glanced at the screen, set the coffee cup on the counter, and answered the phone while adjusting the heat for the bacon.
“Good morning.”
“Hey, Dash,” Penny said. Lon’s pretty, smart as a whip assistant sounded ready to tackle the day this Sunday morning. Lon and Penny had worked side-by-side for more years than I knew. She technically worked for me as well, but what did you call an assistant who regularly had the answers before you knew to ask the question? I’d learned a lot from her as well.
“Hey,” I said, wedging the cell between my shoulder and chin while popping open the biscuit container and arranging the dough on the sheet pan.
“Lon’s curious if you genuinely intend to take the day off, and if so, are you prepared for court tomorrow morning?” she asked, referencing the case Lon dumped on me last week.
“Yes to both questions. If Beau has plans for today, you might catch me for a couple of hours this afternoon.”
“Lon wants me to emphasize that this is your vacation for this year.”
I chuckled, fully aware of his seriousness. “Got it.”
“This part’s from me: Taking off to be with your guy? I’m really proud of you,” she said. “He’s awfully patient with you.” I turned the bacon, appreciating her words and all her help with birthdays, anniversaries, and holiday gifts. She spoke Beau’s love language so well, making me look great during those events.
“Yeah. He needs some love and convincing to stay with me. I’m having to refresh my breakfast-making skills. I probably should’ve ordered in. I feel like I’m fucking this up.”
The laughter she gave was definitely humor at my expense. “Concentrate, I’ll let Lon know. Bye.”
I tossed the phone on the counter and flipped the bacon pieces sizzling in the pan. Once I felt confident that we were on the way to perfectly cooked bacon, I started cracking open the eggs. Beau liked them scrambled, or at least he used to. The whisking part of the eggs took a minute before I dumped them into another skillet.
“What’re you doing?” Beau asked huskily, startling the shit out of me at a crucial moment of keeping the eggs moving in the pan while flexing my ambidextrous skills to remove the bacon. Even with everything I had going, I managed to push the Keurig start button to begin Beau’s morning cup of coffee.
“I took the day off with the hope of spending it with you. My plan was to surprise you with breakfast in bed. But my culinary skills are rusty. We’ll see how it turns out,” I said, only then remembering the cheese. Dammit.