“Yeah, we can’t skip that. I think I’m going to have to help you out. Excuse me.” Sloan watched Rafe as he threw the covers over his head, then feltas he maneuvered his way between her legs. A sigh escaped from her chest when his tongue slowly parted her lips. Suddenly, he threw the covers off them both and looked up at her. God, it was a sight. His hands gripping her skin, her thighs over his broad, tattooed shoulders, her juices already wetting his beard.
“You were right. It’s a mess down here. Cleanup might take a little while.”
Sloan reached down and ran her thumb over his bottom lip. “How long will the quiche take?”
“We got about fifteen minutes, give or take. I should get started.” Sloan couldn’t even respond before Rafe pressed his mouth back to her slit. Jokes about his quiche burning were forgotten as he licked and sucked every inch of her. Sloan settled deeper into the sheets, her head dropping back while her fingers wove their way into the soft hair on the back of his head.
Heaven. This was what heaven felt like, Rafe’s tongue tracing over her sensitive folds before pressing into her aching hole. His dick was amazing and nothing compared to it, just like nothing compared to the feeling of his tongue moving inside her. The focused and controlled movement against the inner walls of her cunt pushed her closer to the edge. She felt his thumb slide around the outside of her ass, slick now with her juices and his drool. He didn’t push it inside, but just the light pressure had her head digging back into her pillows as she whimpered his name.
A beeping and thrumming noise forced Sloan’s eyes up. His phone was dancing and chirping on her dresser. His timer for the quiche.
“Rafe. The oven,” she tried to say, but she cried out instead as he sucked her clit into his mouth. Two fingers pressed into her pussy and he worked her, his hand moving in and out in deep, rough motions. The beep and vibrating went on, but Rafe didn’t stop, not until she was coming. Lightning exploded behind her eyes as she arched off the bed, pulling his face closer to her. Finally, he released her with a few parting kisses to her inner thighs.
“I’ll be right back.”
When he climbed off the bed, she didn’t miss how hard he was and she didn’t miss the wet spot that had turned the dark grey fabric of his boxers black. She knew he’d come back, but Sloan was thirsty now. For actual water as well as more of his body. She jumped out of bed and found her robe hanging in the bathroom, then followed Rafe down to the kitchen. Maybe he’d let her help him out while they waited for their quiche to cool.
Sloan leaned against Rafe as they waited for their table at Samba. They’d had a perfect day. After she’d sucked his cock in the middle of the kitchen, they took their sweet time eating breakfast, then decided to take a dip in the pool. They’d spent the rest of the day watching movies on the couch wrapped in fluffy towels. Sloan dozed on and off, cuddled up against Rafe’s shoulder, soaking in his warmth.
Eventually they’d unglued themselves from each other, retreating to their own bedrooms to get ready for their night out. After she blow dried her braids, it took Sloan forever to figure out what to wear. When she’d finally settled on a brand new, long sleeved floral romper that she had yet to wear and a pair of tan wedges that she’d barely broken in, she figured Rafe was downstairs watching the clock, wondering what the fuck was taking her so long.
In a shocking twist, it was Sloan that had to wait for Rafe to finish his primping and prepping. She’d had to stop herself from drooling when he came walking down the hall. Rafe always looked nice. Nice jeans, fresh t-shirts. Something about the crisp long sleeved shirt he was wearing and the way the sleeves were pushed up, showing off his tattoos, was too much though. After they’d exchanged seven or eight compliments about how the other looked, they headed out for their date. Rafe drove them in the Tahoe to the Brazilian steakhouse he’d been meaning to try.
Stepping through the front door, Sloan immediately saw why he’d picked the dimly lit restaurant. The whole scene was very romantic. After the hostess showed them to their table and they both looked over the menu, Sloan focused all of her attention on the gorgeous man across from her.
“So, tell me about yourself,” Sloan said. “I feel like we’ve talked a lot about my kids and we’ve even talked about complicated surgical procedures, but we haven’t talked enough about you.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Truthfully? Why are you so nice?”
“I don’t think I’m so nice. I think I try to be a decent human being.”
“I don’t know. I think you’re pretty sweet.”
“I wasn’t always like this. I used to be a little dick.”
“Really?” Sloan couldn’t picture it. Rafe had been nothing but kind and patient with everyone she’d seen him interact with. She couldn’t imagine him being an asshole, even as a teenager.
“Yeah, I was a little shithead growing up. Part of why I landed in juvie.”
“What changed?”
“My dad.”
“Oh yeah?”
Rafe looked down and started toying with the base of the candle at the center of their table. “My parents weren’t good together. My dad got my mom pregnant when they were in high school and their parents forced them to get married. They got along, but it was more like a friendship. My dad was just angry in general. But when my mom died, he kinda snapped.”
“We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to.” She wanted to know more about him, but the conversation had taken a heavy turn and from the way he was avoiding eye contact with her, Sloan could see he wasn’t exactly comfortable talking about his parents.
“No, it’s good to talk about it,” he said, looking up at her. He smiled a little, then let out a deep breath. “It’s a good reminder. Anyway. He packed me up one day after the funeral, didn’t tell me where we were going. Just loaded up the truck and we started driving. We stopped to sleep and eat and stuff, but he was so focused on getting to the Pacific, I was thinking he was going to just drive the car right into the ocean.”
“Rafe,” his name slipped out of her mouth and Sloan couldn’t help the tone of anguish behind it. She couldn’t imagine how scary and confusing that must have been for a young teenager.
“When we got to Santa Monica, it was the middle of the afternoon and the pier was packed. I just wanted to go to sleep in a real bed that wasn’t covered in dirty motel sheets, but he made me hang out on the pier while he had whatever moment he needed to have. All he said was that my mom always wanted to come to California.
“We found a place. He found a job and put me in a school where I was one of the only White kids. It wasn’t the end of the world, but I really wasn’t ready. He didn’t tell me we were staying until the night before I was supposed to go to school.”
