Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 133138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
“Are we using pork to distract him so he won’t pout when we shut him out so you can pork me?”
“Yep,” Simon says, as if that’s a perfectly normal thing to do. Hell, maybe it is with a dog. I don’t know.
“Okay, just so I’m clear. On three, two, one . . . here you go, sweet boy.” Xerxes takes the pancetta gently, and I risk petting his head just a little, and then I make a run for it, laughing the whole way with Simon right behind me.
He slams the door, leaning up against it wearing only his underwear and a smile. He holds up the bag from the jewelry store and his smile turns naughty.
He stalks toward me, all sex and heat. He takes my shirt, dropping it to the floor and leaving me naked before him.
“May I?” he asks, pulling one of the two jewelry boxes from the bag. I bite my lip, nodding. He holds up the necklace, and I watch as he swallows thickly. “I like this on you. It feels important.”
He fastens it behind my neck and then traces the line where the gold touches my skin. I can feel the weight of the necklace, but even more, I can feel what it means.
He holds the other box out to me, and I pick up his chain. Simon turns, giving me his back, and I stand on my toes so that I can do the clasp. When he turns back around and I see it nestled at the base of his throat, a shot of warmth goes through me.
“Simon . . .” I can’t form words to express what I’m trying to say, but he nods.
“I know.” He steps into me, moving me until the bed touches the back of my legs. “Lie down, Autumn. Let me love you.”
I fall to the bed, lying on his pillows and stretching out luxuriously. “Yes.”
Simon makes quick work of his underwear, giving himself a long, slow stroke before climbing over me. Cradled between my legs, he leans down on one elbow, and his necklace hangs down between us. I reach up, wrapping it around my finger and smiling.
“I need you,” he growls quietly, the roughness of his voice making my pussy clench.
I release his necklace, reaching down between us to guide him to my entrance. He slides inside me easily, and I groan at the delicious sensation of fullness. No, of rightness. Simon feels right inside me, like I didn’t know I was empty until he was there to stretch me.
We entwine our hands as Simon slowly rolls his hips, entering me again and again. Our eyes lock on each other’s, and in his gaze, I can feel so much more than just this moment.
I can feel forever taking shape between us. And it’s more beautiful than I ever imagined.
CHAPTER 24
AUTUMN
“Who runs the world?” Molly chants.
“Girls,” we answer dutifully and distractedly, our voices sounding more like a flat drone than a hoorah anthem.
“Sing it with me now . . . we run this mutha . . . we run this mutha.”
I’ll give her credit, Molly is working hard to keep us all hyped. So we do as she orders, robotically singing along with her, but mostly, we stay focused on our labors of love.
But with less than twenty-four hours till showtime, we’re all feeling the pressure. I’ve already had to slip a small finger condom over my pinkie because I keep poking myself with a needle and I’m not ruining this fabric by bleeding on it. Yori threw up a little while ago, saying she has an ‘angry stomach’, but we figured out she meant butterflies in her belly. Molly’s singing is getting more and more off-pitch. Beatrice took a break to go cry and smoke a little while ago, and Katarina is literally snarling at her outfits and speaking to them in Russian in threatening tones that would have Stalin pissing his pants.
Shit!
There I go again, stabbing myself in the finger. I can’t help it, I’m shaking with nerves, excitement, anxiety, and giddiness.
I love my collection. Every single piece of it has poured forth from my soul, and I feel like I’ve done justice to the theme of Amour while showcasing my own style. Of course, whether Jaqueline Corbin or any of the fashion judges feel that way remains to be seen.
The models have already left for the day, their final fittings complete, so now we’re planning an all-nighter, Sisterhood of the Sewing Pants style with more of Molly’s forced karaoke, a dinner buffet break, and lots of support as we finish our last-minute tweaks.
“Ugh!” I groan. I drop the skirt I’m working on to grab another Band-Aid and a fresh finger condom. “Why can’t I sew the one time I need to?” I ask, not expecting an answer.