Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
“I think I can leave you alone long enough to use the bathroom,” I assure her, worried she might not be quite at home.
“I just don’t wanna lose… Y’know…,” she murmurs, smiling to herself and running a hand absently over her stomach.
“Oh, there’s plenty more where that came from,” I assure her, moving closer and moving in to kiss her, making her squeak when she tries to get away.
I playfully let her ‘escape’ to use the bathroom, shaking my head in wonder.
That girl wants kids as badly as I do.
I can see her clearly in my mind as a great mom.
It’s me as a forty-something dad with the twenty-year-old mommy that sets a little stab of regret in my chest.
“Guess I’ll just have to stick around until I’m a hundred,” I reason to myself, forgetting all about age and what other people will say once I see Holly in the bathroom doorway.
“Alright?” I ask, noting her tender steps.
“Just a little sore. In a good way,” she adds quickly, moving over to me and hooking her arms around my neck.
Her nakedness straddles me, freeing my stiffness from under my robe as we both groan when it presses hot and hard into her soft belly.
“I thought you were sore?” I ask, gripping her ass with both hands and pulling her already wet mound against my shaft.
She gasps, and I feel her breath quicken. My breath is already pacing my lungs for another horizontal workout.
“I said sore… not closed for business,” she shivers, and I laugh until I feel how much I could live in this moment forever with her.
If every moment could just be this….
The sound of the front door chiming makes her jump a little, but I’m not budging.
“Expecting someone?” she asks, flattening her mouth down on one side, her eyes a question mark.
“That’s just breakfast,” I murmur, kissing her ear, and telling her we can eat now or later. It’s up to her.
“And what about this?” she exclaims, making me jump a little, both her hands gripping the swollen tip of my cock and stroking me to the point of losing several thick beads of precome.
“This is always here for you,” I remind her, hearing both our bellies groan in a whale song that we both know means we really should eat.
“And this is yours too,” she agrees. Taking one of my fingers, tracing it from her lips as she kisses it and down her breasts.
All the way to the one place nobody else will share with her but me.
The moment she brings her finger back up to my lips, letting me taste her sweetness as she flexes her hips against me, I know breakfast can wait.
“Show me something new,” Holly whispers, her eyes wide with innocence still.
But her body is all woman now. And I have a few thousand ideas we could try out, starting at number one.
Right about now.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Holly
Okay, although a little saddle sore, breakfast kinda waited to become brunch by the time Steve showed me something new.
Showed me how yesterday was no fluke either and that the man has the power to zap me with cosmic proportion climaxes before breakfast.
Literally.
He starts to make a face as I slip on his day-old shirt I find on the floor. But he approves once I’m wearing it with the first few buttons left loose and he can see it’s all I want to wear today.
“Remind me to pick up some more shirts,” he growls with satisfaction. Almost threatening to turn brunch into dinner until I playfully fight him off, leading him by the hand down his own flight of stairs.
Our stairs?
I like the idea, I do. And I know Steve means it when he says we’re a thing now.
But I’m so ingrained in my habits and my thinking.
Hell, the only reason I woke early was that I still thought I had to go to work today.
And I’m still worried about this month’s rent. Even though Steve has spelled it all out, it’s gonna take some getting used to being his woman.
“My Queen,” he says as if he’s read my thoughts.
He stops at the base of the stairs, pulling me back to him by my hand and looking into my eyes intently.
“My. Queen,” he affirms again, kissing me hard on the mouth before leading me to the table, where he sits me down like he did last night.
He gets the cart from the hallway himself, and wheels it in, studying under the silver domes to see what needs re-heating and what we can have right now.
“How is it?” I ask, feeling like an assisting surgeon during an operation.
He crimps his lips in thought before finally snapping at a length of streaked bacon, crunching on it loudly.
“Hmmm. I’ll reheat a plate for you,” he advises, and I already know better than to argue or try to take over like I sometimes do.