“I want you to come with my cock in your mouth,” he whispered. He pushed on the back of her head harder, her belly tightening at the sound of his pleasure. She moved her hand faster, but lost her control over her pace when his eyes found hers. She clenched around her own hand, the pressure driving her faster, harder as he squeezed her scalp. Hanna cried out against him, her vision exploding into stars at the way he bit his lip. “God, the look on your face. So fucking beautiful. Don’t stop, Hanna, I’m right there.”
She doubled down on her efforts, bringing her hand up, soaked in his name, to grip him even harder.
Milo finally stopped talking.
He grunted as he approached the edge, releasing the grip on her head and tapping her shoulder as a warning—one she happily ignored.
Hanna took everything he had to give her, his eyes closing as she beamed with a satisfactory smile. She stood, his chest heaving, but he pulled back on her hand.
“I guess I should have warned you before we decided to do this that I like to cuddle after,” Milo said, dragging her onto his lap.
“Oh no,” Hanna giggled. “The gorgeous man who wants no strings attached, god-tier sex, also wants me to feel human after? How terrible a fate.”
He laughed, and she felt the sound absorb into her skin, warming her from the inside out.
“I have a dress fitting with Sara this afternoon,” she said, peppering his neck with kisses. “But maybe after that I can make us dinner?”
“You cook?” Milo asked, his surprise offensive.
But then she realized, in all the weeks she’d been there—in the last year—she’d hardly cooked at all.
“I cook.”
“Damn,” Milo said. “Really putting the benefits in FWB.”
“Okay, just a little more in the waist and then I think it’s perfect!”
The alterations manager scribbled a few more notes on her form and tapped Sara on the shoulder. She stood on a pedestal in the middle of a bridal shop in Lower Haight, twirling left and right in what was possibly the most incredible wedding gown ever made.
It was a little bohemian, a little timeless, a little sexy. All the things Sara had put on her list when they’d started shopping. Hanna held the phone up as Cami blubbered on FaceTime. Once the shop attendant added the lace veil, it was over.
“You look like a celebrity,” Hanna said. Cami started anew in her tears—there was no way she was surviving the ceremony.
“Do I have to take it off?” Sara said, admiring her reflection.
“I think it’s a bit much for happy hour,” Hanna quipped as Sara hopped off the pedestal. The moment she disappeared from the frame, Cami launched into a line of questions about how she was liking San Francisco.
After a short silence, Cami said, “You know, I’ve gotta tell you, sweetheart, you’re glowing.”
Hanna blushed. She glanced at her face in the bottom of the screen. She wasn’t wrong.
“I mean it! You look so healthy. It’s nice.”
“Thank you,” she mumbled, averting her eyes from her own face on the call. Time box, time box, time box.
“Sara told me you’re shacking up with that Milo boy.”
Ah, so there was an ulterior motive to her compliment.
“Only for the week,” Hanna said, running her fingers over a wall of lace samples.
“Berty said he’s not allowed in the house again.” Cami giggled. “You know, I always pictured you with someone like him. Tall, dark, moody.”
“He’s not that moody, the tattoos kind of misrepresent him. He’s actually really sweet.”
Cami’s eyes lit up. “Is he now?”
Hanna sighed. “He lost his dad when he was a teenager, so he just kind of gets what I’m dealing with, you know?”
