“Oh, I’m sorry for all of the sex. You poor, handsome millionaire, having to have sex with a horny woman. You are so put out.”
“You know I didn’t mean it like that. Stop putting words in my mouth.”
“How could I put words in your mouth when apparently the only thing I put in there is my pussy.” I stand from the couch, and he grabs my hand before I walk away.
He stands as well, his chest inches from mine. “What the fuck is going on with you, Penny?”
“As I said, if you don’t know, I can’t help you.” I snap my wrist away from him and head toward the bedroom. “I’m going to put a shirt on now so you don’t have to be subject to my feminine wiles.”
* * *
“Yes, Eli. Harder. Harder.”
“Fuck,” he says as he pulses, pulling on my hips as he thrusts into me. “Babe, I’m going to come.”
“Eli!” I yell as my orgasm rips through me, splitting me in half and causing me to lose all sense of what is right. He stills behind me and groans as he comes, and I slowly lower my forehead onto the counter to catch my breath.
“Holy shit,” he mumbles as he leans forward and kisses my cheek. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I answer.
Like we’re two robots, he removes himself from me, and I straighten up, fixing my new maternity nightgown over my stomach and ass. I had to get some that would fit over my belly, and they have left nothing to the imagination. Cut low so my cleavage is on full display, I walked out of the bedroom after changing, only to see Eli’s eyes turn dark . . . hungry.
I was torn in half as my heart wanted him, but my mind tried to ignore him. It was seconds before my heart—and my libido—won out. I walked up to him, stuck my hand down his shorts, and pulled him out before bending down and placing him into my mouth. He let me suck him for a few seconds before he carefully bent me over the counter.
This, of course, was after we were fighting about who got to do the dishes. I stormed off, irritated that he wouldn’t budge from the sink, and put on my nightgown.
“Do you want me to grab you a washcloth?” he asks.
“I’m more than capable of cleaning myself up,” I say.
“Didn’t say you weren’t.”
“You implied it,” I counter.
“Actually, it’s called being a nice fucking guy.”
“You know, you’ve been playing that card a lot lately. The nice guy. How do I know it’s nice, and you’re not just stacking up evidence?”
“What kind of evidence?” he asks, looking confused. God, he’s a good actor.
“The evidence you’d use against me?”
“For what?” he nearly shouts.
“Uh, to prove something.”
“To prove what?”
“Oh . . . you know.” I cross my arms over my chest and nod.
“Holy fucking shit. I really don’t.”
I don’t stay to listen, though. I go to the bathroom and clean up before brushing my teeth. I consider going to bed, but I’m really not tired. I go back out and find Eli finishing the dishes.
Hand on the wall, I ask, “Are you satisfied?”
He glances up, and his hair falls over his forehead, making him look that much sexier. “Satisfied? In what way?”
