Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
His arms snake around my back, pulling me close. “Mabel,” he grunts.
“Yes?”
But he says nothing, just thrusts up again and again, holding me tight. After a few minutes, his breathing turns more ragged. “Fuck, baby. You’re so wet. I fucking love how turned on you get.”
“You do this to me.”
“Want to keep doing it to you,” he rasps out, like a raw admission.
Pleasure slides down my spine and so do his hands. As they reach my ass, he squeezes my cheeks, bringing me down hard on his thick cock.
“I can’t stand how good you feel,” he says, like he’s angry with himself for wanting me. “I want to feel you all the fucking time.”
“Have me,” I murmur as I ride him, finding just the right angle, hitting just the right pace till I break apart into thousands of pieces of pleasure.
And he falls with me, sounding like a man who’s losing control, and he couldn’t care less.
37
JUST LIKE A DOG
CORBIN
Fifteen minutes later, I’m yawning, and my limbs feel too heavy to move. “I should go. Sarah’s dropping Charlotte off in the morning. I have her this weekend,” I say, as I try to muster the energy to drag my ass out of bed.
“What time?” Mabel asks, sounding sleepy too. Well, I did wake her in the middle of the night.
“Nine.”
She shudders. “Fuck mornings.”
I nudge her. “Right?”
“Exactly,” she says, curling up by my side and pressing a kiss to my shoulder. It’s soft and gentle, and I shudder from the feel of her lips on my skin. “Too bad.”
Wait…hold on. Does that mean she wants me to stay? A sleepover has never been part of this thing. I hold my damn breath to see if she’ll say more.
My wish comes true when she kisses my neck and murmurs, “I have to be up at seven-thirty. One of us has to open the bakery.”
“Hey now. I’ll definitely help out in the afternoon. “
“I know. I’m just saying I could wake you up at eight-thirty.”
And yes, dreams do come true. “Promise?” I say, as another yawn wallops me.
She kisses my jaw this time, and it sends a shiver through me as she whispers, “Promise.”
I reach for her hand and press a kiss to the top of it. “Good. But we’re going to need to push two beds together. We’re too big to sleep in a twin.”
“You’re right.”
The firehouse only had twin-size beds, but a few minutes later, we’ve pushed two together, and we’re flopping back down. It’s not perfect. I have only one set of sheets here—but we put a fitted sheet on one twin, and a flat on the other. There’s a thin space, naturally, between the two mattresses. But it’ll do for now especially since the blanket I brought the other week is pretty big.
She pats the mattress. “It’s another one of your gifts. A new bed.”
“You like gifts, Mabel?”
“Yours,” she says, full of affection that settles deep into my bones. She settles her head against the pillow and turns her face away from me, but she wiggles her body close and sighs. “Mmm. You can wake me up anytime in the middle of the night.”
I kiss the back of her neck. “Feel free to wake me up with your mouth at eight-thirty,” I say, and even though I’m sinking toward that cleft in the bed, I drift off to sleep.
In the morning, Mabel is better than a clock, her warm mouth trailing kisses down my neck, chest, and stomach as I stir, rising in all the ways.
Ignoring the kink in my back, I inch toward the side of the bed, making myself more comfortable, then I push her down. She takes me in her mouth and gives me the most fantastic wake-up call ever.
When I come down from my high, she’s staring at me like a satisfied cat, licking her lips. “Fuuuuuck mornings,” she says.
I grab the back of her head and haul her in for a kiss. I can’t resist her, so naturally I do the gentlemanly thing and offer to give her an early morning O.
She shakes her head. “One of us needs to be baking.”
“Fair enough,” I say. “But I owe you.”
“And I will gladly let you cash that in sometime very soon.”
After I get dressed quickly and brush my teeth, I say, “Charlotte wants to come by later. Help out. You cool with that?”
She scoff-laughs. “Cool with it? I insist. No one pokes fun at you better than she does. And I can’t wait.”
Funny, neither can I.
“I wanted to let you know the plan for the next week or so,” Charlotte says, as we walk along Main Street, passing Reprise, where a window display of sweaters with animal illustrations on them draws my daughter’s attention for a couple seconds. And mine too, since Mabel would like those. But I turn my focus back to my daughter as she resumes her pace and her calendar review. “This weekend is the fox toss. Monday, you have a bakery event. Then we’re picking up Mischief and Mayhem on Tuesday. You have a game on Wednesday night. So I can take care of them myself.”