Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“I was kicking myself for not at least slipping my phone number in your suitcase. I called Carnival.” My mouth opens wide in shock. “Kind of impersonated a lawyer and demanded their manifest.”
“You didn’t,” I say, putting my hand to my mouth.
“I did, and then I got a not so nice threatening letter demanding me to stop calling them,” he says, looking at me. “It was so frustrating because I was so close, yet they couldn’t just give me your name. I even went all out and said I fell in love.”
“Oh my God,” is the only thing I could say.
“I might have thrown in World War Two, and then said I was dying.” He closes his eyes. “I was desperate to get in touch with you.” Then his hands hug me closer. “I just, I couldn’t fathom not coming home to you and not sharing my day with you.”
“Luca,” I say softly, and he leans in and kisses me, and this time, I turn in his lap and straddle him. Our kiss gets heated as I grind on his covered cock, and fuck it’s just like it was on the boat. I thought that I made it up in my mind. “It’s the same,” I say, letting go of his lips and panting as his hands grab my ass, pushing me onto him, and he attacks my neck. “I thought that it was all in my mind. That I made up how good it was.”
“It’s even better,” Luca says. “It’s even better than I remember.” He leans in and bites my lower lip. “I didn’t think it could get better”—he slips his tongue into my mouth, twirling it with mine—“but it is.”
“It is,” I say to him, my hands now rushing to take off his shirt. I bunch the T-shirt up and pull it off his head, his smooth skin warm under my hands. I lean forward and kiss him, his hands roaming under my shirt. His hands cup my tits, and we both groan when he rolls my nipples. I am frantic to get my shirt off and feel his skin on mine. He pulls it over my head, leaving me in my pink lace bra.
“Fuck,” he hisses out, and leans in, moving the top of the bra down when he frees one pebbled nipple to take in his mouth and suck. My hips move on their own as I grind against him, wishing his cock was in me. My head falls back as he moves from one nipple to the other. The cold is making the wet tips get even harder. He was the last one to ever touch me like this. I watch him take the nipple into his mouth, sucking it and then biting down on it, and I swear I’m about to explode. He must sense it because he looks up.
“I remember when I woke up one day, and you were sleeping, and I made you come just by playing with your nipples,” he whispers, and I close my eyes. “Do you remember that?”
“I remember everything,” I tell him, and he smiles.
“Me, too.” He leans in and kisses right above the nipple where my breast swells, and then he sucks in. “Every touch.” He repeats his action. “Every kiss.” Now he pushes up, and just like the hussy I am, I come, and he moves his hips to help me finish. I’m past the point of caring, and I just want to come, and not because I did it but because he did. I bury my face into his neck, my breathing still heavy as I try to convince myself that normal people dry hump each other. I mean, usually, it’s younger people but still the same.
“I was wrong,” he says softly, and I unbury my face from his neck.
“It isn’t just better,” he starts to say. “It’s not even in this hemisphere.”
“I haven’t been with anyone since you,” I tell him and then look down almost embarrassed but not, but also trying not to vomit when he tells me that he missed me.
He puts his hand under my chin, lifting my face. “Me either,” he says, and I look at him shocked. “At first, it was too soon, and then I was just focusing on work, and then it was like every single date I compared to you.”
“Really?” I ask, shocked. “But you are like a huge, huge catch.”
“It just felt wrong,” he says, smiling. “Eliahn Coco, will you be my girlfriend? Just so you know, you have to say yes.”
“I don’t know,” I say, smirking at him. “What does being your girlfriend entail?”
“Well, it means that we eat dinner with each other every night,” he starts saying. “Breakfast also.” I nod my head. “We call each other during the day or just send texts to tell each other how the day is going.”