I want to make love to her again.I will make love to her again.But the poor girl needs some fortification first.We’ve been at it for hours.
We’re always at it for hours.
I sit on the edge of the bed and lean in on my elbows.I let my finger slip beneath the silk ribbon tied below her breasts, then let the back of my hand graze the satiny swell of a breast.Her skin is slightly tanned from our time on the boat, our time on the deck, our time on the beach.
I reach behind me to snag her coffee cup, and I hand it to her.She takes a sip of her coffee, lifting her dark eyes to me over the rim of the cup.Her thick black lashes close and open.
“If you look at me like that, I’ll have to take you again.No coffee for you.”
“What about the croissants?”
“Those too.You may never eat again.”
I see those shiny lips on the cup and the hint of her pink tongue.Of course I think back to how she took all of me in her mouth last night, made me cum harder than I’ve ever cum in my fucking life, and swallowed every drop.
She holds her hand out for a croissant, and I place one in her palm.She takes a big bite and licks her lips, making me moan and squirm.
“Dangerous, dangerous game,” I tell her.
She quirks her lips.
“We have to meet Declan in three hours, so we better set sail soon.That leaves us just enough time to take a shower.”
“We could save time and shower together.”She takes another bite and wiggles her brows.
“Sounds wise.Cuts time and cuts water use.Very eco-conscious.”
Emma hands me her cup and half-eaten croissant, and scoots over to sit on my lap.She nuzzles my ear and traces my neck with long, languid kisses.Slipping my arms under her, I stand, lifting her up.
She continues to kiss me while I carry her to the bathroom and into the shower.
“We probably shouldn’t get the negligee wet,” she whispers.
“Right, because that sucker’s going home with us.”
We’re thirty minutes late to meet Declan at the airport in Long Beach.We would have liked to be a few hours late, but both Emma and I have a nagging habit of being responsible.
“I hate to leave here,” Emma said, as I locked up the house in Catalina.
“We can come here for the weekend once a month if you want.”
She looked up at me with the sweetest expression that made me want to give her the world, not just a monthly trip to Catalina.
“We could do that?Every month?”
I love the idea of making plans with Emma months in advance.I love that we’ll be together months from now.I read the same emotion in her eyes.The connection.
The love.
And now we’re here at the airport, walking on the tarmac toward the StellaR Tech jet.Declan is leaning back against the airstairs, his arms crossed in front of him, his face downturned and upset.
“You’re lucky I didn’t fly without you,” he calls out.
“Thirty minutes,” I point out.“A measly thirty minutes.”
“Would you say that to United Airlines?NASA?”
“It’s my fault,” Emma calls.“I took too long doing my hair.”
