Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 114820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
“Is it too soon to ask you to marry me?” he queried.
She smiled, got up on her toes, kissed the underside of his jaw, and even with how great that felt, he adjusted his head for a better fit, so she kissed his mouth.
That felt better.
“On a scale of one to ten, how bad was your day?” she asked gently.
“Seven thousand.”
“I have food.”
“I see.”
“Did you bring your sleepover bag?”
Having had no sleep the night before, then the day he’d had, and their first time?
He wasn’t going to do that to her.
He cupped her jaw and whispered a disappointed, “Baby.”
“Rus, I don’t mind. I still want you sleeping over.”
He could absolutely do that.
“I’ll need my charge cord.”
“You have the same phone as mine, I have more than one.”
His answer girl. Get it done. No nonsense.
He wasn’t sure he ever wanted to get married again, his earlier comment was a joke.
But he could see himself committing to Lucinda Margaret Bonner Sexton for the rest of his life.
One hundred percent.
“Did Madden get off okay?”
“Gone after school. Dad’s already back.”
“Good.”
“It’s late. Come eat. Then you can get some sleep. I worry about tomorrow for you, and I want you covered.”
He worried about tomorrow for him too.
So he took a sip, found it was whisky, and from his discerning taste buds on the subject, whatever whisky it was, it was a damn good one, even better than a Macallan 18.
And then he let her lead him to the table.
They were in bed watching mindless TV.
Lucinda had lost the robe, and the pants, and was cuddled up to him under the covers in nothing but her silky camisole and matching panties, which was a sight to see, and feel, and it was stirring, but also intimate and comforting.
And he was wearing his shorts, he had a full stomach, along with three glasses of whisky and two of wine, and he was fatigued as fuck.
But even with all of this, Rus couldn’t drift off.
With how still she was, her head on his shoulder, he thought she had, though, and was about to turn off the TV—that and the fire under it the only things that lit the room—when her hand smoothed down to his abs.
“Cin,” he murmured.
“Mm-mm,” she denied, and her lips hit his skin.
He pushed up a bit.
But he didn’t stop her, part because he was a man, part because this was Lucinda and he’d wanted it since he clapped eyes on her.
Though it was mostly because she wanted it.
She worked her way down.
He was straining the front of his shorts by the time she pushed the covers off him.
She pulled his boxer briefs down, tucking them under his balls, and that felt good.
Then she took him deep.
Christ.
Yeah.
Now, that felt great.
Watching her work his cock was almost more of a turn on than how good she was at doing it.
When his movements and noises meant she knew he was almost there, she released him, hit a hip, but then pulled off her panties.
“Baby, I don’t have a condom.”
Her reply was to swing a leg over.
Guess she was covered with birth control and trusted that he wouldn’t let her continue if he carried something to harm her.
Which was the case.
She latched onto his cock with her hand, positioned him, and he came up off the pillows when she buried him in her wet heat.
Oh yeah.
Better.
Better than he imagined.
Better than he’d fantasized about when his mind was filled with thoughts of her when he jacked off.
The best.
“Fuck,” he groaned, going under her camisole and pulling it up.
She lifted her arms, he got it free and tossed it away.
This woman.
Christ, he’d waited forty-five years to find this remarkable woman and be right here.
He slid his arms around her.
She moved.
He alternately sucked her tits and watched her.
She moved faster.
He trailed his hands down and dug his fingers in the flesh of her ass.
She moved faster.
“I can’t—” he grunted.
“Go,” she invited.
Rus wasn’t sure she knew what she was inviting, but he went anyway.
He whipped her to her back, hooked a hand behind her knee, yanked it up to his side, and drove into her.
As he thrust, she gasped and panted and used her nails.
Fuck.
This needed to happen.
Soon.
He dropped down and kissed her.
She came, moaning in his mouth.
He came, groaning into hers.
He collapsed on her then rolled them so she was on top.
He felt her breaths against the hairs on his chest, her hand moving there too, his hand exploring the smooth skin of her naked back and ass.
She eventually slid away, went to the bathroom, he got rid of his shorts, and she came back, naked, switching off the fireplace and sliding into bed.
He hit the remote to blank the TV.
She cuddled into him.
“At least we had firelight,” he joked.
He felt her smile against his skin.
Then she kissed him there.
“It was perfect,” she whispered.