Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 173796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
And then I give her exactly what she asked for.
I fuck her hard, fast, and raw.
The loud clap of slick and sweaty bodies meeting fills the room, and she whimpers into the air, her muscles locking around me.
“Suck on my cock, Juliet. Squeeze me.”
She does, her pussy walls clenching around me, flexing over and over, and then she starts to shake.
Blood surges through my veins, and my toes curl, my fingertips biting into her skin. I release her hair, and instantly, her mouth comes down on mine, but she can only begin to kiss me, because in the next second, she’s coming.
Her lips part, her eyes clench closed, and a long, heady moan fills her throat.
She grips my face, pulling my lips an inch from hers, and whispers, “Your turn. Come for me, Noah. Now.”
“Always, baby.”
I drop my mouth to her neck, sucking her skin as her pussy sucks the cum from my body. It’s fucking powerful.
All-consuming.
Moments later, her body collapses into mine, and I gladly accept her weight, pulling out and scooping her into my arms. But as I move to the bed, she shakes her head, lowering it to my shoulder.
Her hand comes up to glide along my jaw, her smile so soft my damn chest grows tight.
“Take me to the living room. I want to show you something.”
Without a word, I push her hair behind her ear, snag the blanket hanging off the bed and lay it over her. She drags it up to her chin, her eyes glued to my face as I do what she asked.
I carry my baby out the door, down the stairs, and into the living room, where our missed Christmas awaits.
Arianna
* * *
The moment Noah lowers me to the fluffy rug in front of the tree, he moves over to the fireplace and lights the logs set inside. He slips behind me, pulling my back to his chest as we watch the flames take over, adding a little more light to the twinkling Christmas surrounding us.
I glance under the tree and my stomach swims with anxiousness.
This is months in the making, long before my accident, and I’ve never been prouder of something in my life. I’m about to give Noah a gift that I have no doubt will mean more than even I can fathom.
Stretching my toes from beneath the blanket, I tap on the red wrapping, and Noah’s head shifts, his cheek pressed to mine.
“Is that for me?”
I nod against him. “It is.”
“That’s not fair, Juliet.” He kisses my temple.
“I can think of several ways you can even the score...”
He groans playfully, his hands coming down to tickle my ribs.
I chuckle, dropping my head back on his shoulder, so I can meet his eyes, and he lowers his lips to mine. I smile against him, whispering, “Open it, Noah.”
He holds my gaze a long moment, and then gently sets me aside and leans over, snagging it from beneath the tree. He eyes the packaging, the label reading from Santa to Noah, and a small grin forms across his face.
He looks up again, and I nod, my hands tethering together, my nerves at an all-time high.
As if in slow motion, he tugs the ribbons, and they fall from the side. The packaging is torn, and he gets to the white box beneath it.
My lips press together in a tight line and then Noah is lifting the lid, the contents of what’s inside coming into view, freezing his hands in midair.
His entire body is frozen, but ever so slowly, he allows the top to fall and it’s with shaky hands that he reaches inside, freeing the soft, black leather book.
Reluctantly, his eyes come to mine, but only for a second, before they go right back.
Noah falls onto his ass, and he swallows hard. “Juliet…” he hardly breathes. “What is this?”
Tears prick my eyes, and I fight to keep my breaths from growing choppy.
I scoot closer, slowly tracing the cursive on the cover.
The title no more than two words.
Riley Recipes.
Noah’s hand comes up, clenching over his mouth and jaw and he shakes his head. “Baby… I can’t,” he croaks, his eyes clouded as he looks at me.
“Look inside.”
A shuddered exhale leaves him, and he squares his shoulders, doing exactly that.
The moment his eyes land on the crisp, cream page, the recipe book falls to the floor, and he buries his face in his palms.
When he looks up, it’s to grab me, to drag me to him and drape me across his lap, to bring my lips to his, so he can kiss me with every bit of himself.
It takes several moments for him to pull back, and when he does, I smile softly.
“Can I read it to you?”
He nods, locks his arms around me, and closes his eyes, hiding his face in my chest as I pick up the cookbook.