“I have your come all over me. I can’t open the door like this.”
I reached for my shirt, stood up, and dressed her. It was long enough that it went to her ass. The doorbell rang again. I spanked her. “Go.”
“Rocco.” She shot me a look. “This isn’t helping.”
“Do you want me to open the door completely naked?”
“No.” She scowled, looking down at herself where my come was slowly slipping down her leg. Fuck, that was hot.
I stood up, put on my briefs, and walked to the door.
“Rocco!” she hissed behind me, but I was already there, opening the door for the young man delivering her food. He looked at me, eyes wide as he looked down at my half-hard dick in my briefs and set his hands on the table he’d rolled over here.
“I just, I’ll just,” he started.
“I got it,” I said. I reached next to me, where I’d left my bag earlier, and pulled out some money. I handed it to him and wheeled the food in. “Thank you.”
“N-n-no, thank you.” He smiled wide and bolted to the left.
“Lenora, your food is—”
“I cannot believe you just did that,” she said, standing in front of me. She looked like one of those cartoons with smoke coming from their ears. It was adorable.
I kissed the tip of her nose. “Don’t worry. I gave him a good tip.”
20
LENORA
He was cruel,making me sit and eat my food wearing a polo stuck to my chest because of his come. It was uncomfortable, and I wanted to wash it off, but each time I tried to stand, Rocco gave me a stern look and told me to finish my food. He stood up, wiped down the television remote with a wipe from a Lysol travel pack, and sat back down as he turned it on. I was curious about why he freaking traveled with Lysol wipes, but I wasn’t going to ask.
“Aren’t you hungry?” I asked instead.
“Nah, I ate. I need you to finish eating so we can talk.”
“When did you eat?” I stabbed my french fry in the little ketchup bottle and popped it
into my mouth. The last thing I wanted to do was talk, but he was here for a reason, and I knew we had to get on with it.
“I don’t know. An hour ago, maybe two? They make pretty good pasta in that little
restaurant by the pool.”
My chewing stopped, then slowed, then I picked up the pace and swallowed the french fry. “How long have you been here?”
“Hmmm. . .” He was flipping channels, not even paying attention to me. “Right before you started building sand castles.”
My jaw dropped. That was a long time ago. Had he been in the room while I soaked in the tub? I felt myself go hot at the thought.
“What?” He glanced over at me, looked at my plate, and took a fry. “What’s that face?”
“You heard me in the bathroom, didn’t you?” I whispered, grabbing a fry and swirling it in the ketchup.
“You mean when you moaned my name as you touched yourself?”
I looked at my plate and shoved the fry in my mouth. This was beyond embarrassing.
“Lenora.”
