With my balls swelling, I leaned her back until her head was touching the mirror. With several additional thrusts, I couldn’t take it any longer, erupting deep inside.
There was more than just a sense of satisfaction. There was a strong, insane need to keep her as mine.
Six months. Fuck.
There weren’t enough days or weeks to satisfy me.
Seconds later, another knock brought smiles to both our faces. She jerked up, pressing her hand against the side of my face. Tiny beads of perspiration were trickling down her cheek. I brushed them away, bringing my fingers to my lips.
I helped her off the counter, steadying her as she swayed back and forth. Together we made ourselves more presentable and I found it interesting that she didn’t demand to have her thong returned.
She was quite the bad girl after all.
When we were ready, she opened the door, her head held high and was able to act as if nothing filthy and sinful had been going on.
And me?
I grinned in response to several wide eyes and slack mouths.
With Vanessa, everything was a daring adventure.
And I wanted more.
CHAPTER 23
Vanessa
“A ring. You’re serious.”
“Do you honestly think I’d joke about a ring? You need a symbol of our engagement.”
I slowly turned my head toward the man I’d just… fucked. He was practically glowing after our wicked moment.
“How about we find one in a Cracker Jack box instead?”
He laughed as if I was completely joking.
I wasn’t.
Fucking him inside a tiny, hot as sin bathroom was one thing. Yes, it went against almost everything I’d told him, but sex wasn’t permanent. Birth control was fabulous.
Shuddering, I tried to think of a good excuse not to purchase a ring, but there wasn’t any. If we were madly in love, people would look for and ask about the ring. The size. The story of howhe proposed. How we’d met and fell in love. Those were things we hadn’t discussed.
The decision had been impetuous.
“Do you honestly think anyone would believe I wouldn’t spend an enormous amount of money in getting you the perfect engagement ring?” he asked the question so casually as if tossing around five or six figures in a diamond ring was no big deal. Well, it was a huge deal to me.
Because wearing his ring made the preposterous decision real.
“How are you going to find a jeweler in Naples?” I don’t know if I honestly believed my question would stall him, but I could tell it wasn’t working.
He threw me a look and turned on the signal, making a right. “I have my sources.”
“You know everyone in Florida. Don’t you?”
His laugh was jovial, completely at ease. As with every time we’d… had sex, I felt strange. Warm and fuzzy, yet some guilt tore through me. Why was it I believed I couldn’t enjoy fringe benefits of being married to such a looker?
Because this wasn’t real.
