Mine to Cherish (Southern Wedding #3) Read Online Natasha Madison

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: Southern Wedding Series by Natasha Madison
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Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 69371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
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“My mouth,” I say, pushing him off me as I push off the dresser and fall to my knees. I take his cock into my mouth just as he comes right down my throat.

Chapter 21

Luke

“Holy shit.” Those are the only two words that can come out of my mouth at this moment. I’m actually afraid that my knees are going to give out and I’m going to fall to the floor.

“That was,” Clarabella states, while she still sucks my cock, jerking it a couple more times. “Exactly what the doctor ordered.” She looks up at me as she drops my cock from her hand. My cock cries out in protest, wanting to immediately get back into her. She gets up from her knees, the only thing she is wearing is the tank top around her waist.

I lean in and kiss her lips. “Where is the bathroom?” I ask, and she points at the door in the corner.

“You want me to come with you?” she asks and winks while she pulls up her tank top.

“I think I’m good,” I reply, walking to the bathroom and not bothering to close the door. “Are you hungry?” I turn on the water and hear her laughter.

“Is that code for you want me to suck your dick?” I hear her voice coming closer and closer to the bathroom. “Because I think I just did that.” She leans against the doorjamb. “And I think you ate dessert as well.”

I finish cleaning up and walk to her. The need to keep kissing her is becoming very, very fucking strong, just like the need to see her again today, even though I knew that I should give her some space. I just couldn’t. Plus, when she didn’t answer me, I hated to think she was feeling down and I wasn’t there. “Is that a yes, you’re hungry, or a no, you’re full?”

“I haven’t eaten anything besides dick today,” she says, and I can’t help but laugh. I slip my hand in hers, turning to walk out of her bedroom and head to the kitchen. “Don’t you need a shirt?” I look over my shoulder at her. “What?” she asks, walking down the steps. “I just don’t want you to get burned in my house and then sue me.”

“I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement.” I kiss her neck as I get the paper bag. “Now, before we spend the night making out on your couch.”

She throws her head back and laughs at me. “Is that what you think we are going to do?”

“It’s not what I think we are going to do. It’s what I know we are going to do,” I assure her. “How does a nice grilled salmon and vegetable medley sound?” I ask, and she just looks at me.

“I love when you talk dirty to me,” she says. “What can I do to help?”

“You can sit your sweet ass on that stool and tell me about your day,” I suggest. “Maybe have a glass of wine.”

“Listen, if you are going to keep talking dirty to me, I might have to take off all my clothes.” She walks over to one of the cupboards, grabbing two glasses and placing them on the counter next to me.

“If you take off your clothes, we really are never going to eat,” I admit as she comes over and grabs a bottle of wine from the fridge, then pulls out the cork. She stands just close enough to me for me to lean over and kiss the freckle on her back that I love so much.

“You always kiss me on the same spot.” She looks over at me as she pours a glass of white wine.

“You have a freckle,” I say, kissing the spot again. “It calls to me.” I smirk at her, and she brings the wineglass to her lips.

“I can hear something else calling for you,” she says, and this time, it’s my turn to laugh.

“Go.” I point at the chair, and she kisses the underneath of my chin.

“Fine,” she huffs, pouring a glass of wine for me and then grabbing the bottle to go sit down. “So how did it go with your sisters?” I ask, and I see the change in her eyes. “Forget I asked. It’s really not my business.”

“Did you go to the restaurant today?” she questions. I nod, grabbing a pan and turning away from her. I hope she doesn’t see that it bothers me that she isn’t sharing with me. “What is the word on the street?”

I put the pan on the stove. “There is some chatter about the wedding,” I answer her honestly. “But I didn’t ask.”

“What sort of chatter?” she asks, and I know it bothers her just from her tone.

“That you took off,” I say, making sure that the heat is high enough before turning and starting on the veggies. “It’s like the town secret as to why.”


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