“Sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Done,” she says, slipping the phone back on the bed between us. The symbolism isn’t lost on me. George is the barrier between us. “Now what?”
“Now nothing. You’ve said what needed to be said. Now you go on with your day as though nothing has changed,” I say, keeping my voice light and easy.
She tosses aside the covers suddenly and hops out of bed. My eyes follow her pink flesh as she streaks across the room. She is a delectable thing first thing in the morning. Quite, quite delectable. I’ll wait for her to come out and pounce on her then.
“You are a little bit too good at this,” she says, laughing as she disappears into the ensuite.
I stare at the ceiling with my hands folded behind my head.
I can’t shake the irritation or the uber-protective instinct I experience whenever George’s name enters the picture. Pippa doesn’t love him. If he is her soulmate, she wouldn’t be carryingon with me. She loves the idea she built up in her head, the fantasy of him as some perfect partner, and she doesn’t want to accept that the man in her head doesn’t exist. The reality of him is that he is feeble, entitled, and entirely undeserving of her attention.
And yet, here he is, ruining my morning and trying to insert himself back into her life. It stirs anger in me because I don’t want her thinking about him. I want her to realize that the fire she felt last night, the heat, the thrill that’s real. That’s me. And that’s her. That’s what we get together. It doesn’t happen that often. In fact, it is a rare thing.
I run a hand through my hair, feeling the pull of possessiveness tighten around my chest. She’s mine even if she doesn’t know it yet.
The sound of the shower starting drifts through the door, and I shift on the bed. Pippa and I have made some rules for our time here, and I won’t let some wet English lad come in and try to rewrite them.
When she comes back in a few minutes later, her hair is damp, and she is wrapped in a towel. She leans against the doorway and gives me a mischievous smile.
“What’s happening today?” she asks, her voice soft and curious, and her eyes bright with anticipation. “Just so I can wear something appropriate.”
“The most appropriate thing you can wear for the next item on the itinerary is to lose that towel,” I drawl.
Her eyes widen innocently. “Naked is a dress code? Are we going to a nudist beach?”
I smile slowly, lift the sheets up, and show her my cock standing upright and stiff. You’re going riding darlin’, and your horse is right here.”
“Oh, you big, bad, thick man,” she mock gasps.
“That’s right. Now bring that pretty, needy little slit over here pronto.”
“Someone’s hungry,” she teases, before dropping her towel and walking towards me, hips swaying seductively, and her magnificent breasts bouncing.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rhett
She positions herself on my thighs. “Rhett,” she whines, her soft, wet pussy grinding against my flesh.
“Open wide for me,” I command.
Her eyes become smoky with shock, excitement, and pure anticipation. Ever so slowly, she leans back, and with her palms firmly on the bed, she submits. Her legs make a V, then she opens wide and exposes all of her intimacies. She is dripping with excitement, and her eyes beg me to have her in whatever way I want. There is rapture in capitulation.
I shiver at the sight of her surrender.
I lean forward and finger her clit. It is pure joy to watch her gorgeous face turn lustful and hear the small kitten sounds she makes as I push two fingers into her wet heat. Her head drops back. The plan was to finger-fuck until she climaxed, then fuck her until she forgets her own name, but my mouth waters for the sweet taste of her.
In the end, I make her sit on my face and eat her out to my heart’s content. And why not? She is blissful, and I’m in heaven.I suck her until she gushes over me and I remember the furious urge in me to push forward, make her eyes roll back, and see her convulse with pleasure.
Taking a firm hold of her hips, I bring her to me and flip her onto her stomach as if she was no more than a doll. She laughs with pleasure and lets me. It is so wonderfully easy to slide between the slick, hot lips of her engorged pussy. Gently, I press the back of her neck to force her down on the bed. It evokes a gasp of frantic thrill from her at the promise of getting mercilessly, adoringly, and inescapably fucked.
“Slowly. Go slow,” she cries. “I want to feel every last inch. Make me wonder when it will end.”
“Will do, darlin’.”
