She dripped cum all over my tongue, and I milked her release as she trembled in my hands while I sucked her juices. Blood had drained from my brain and engorged my dick.
“Do you see how hard you make me?” I whispered into her ear and licked it.
She moaned sweetly, like she sang, her voice husky and dreamy. We rocked in rhythm. Her soft curves rubbed against my pelvic thrusts as I entered her, soaking up her juices and her tight muscles clenching me.
I placed her legs up on my shoulders, filling her deeper. “Your so fucking snug and creamy.”
Her groans grew as her pussy walls spasmed and squeezed my dick to the point of no return.
“I need you to… come,” I stammered.
The friction intensified as our sticky bodies moved in a fierce rhythm. She scratched and bit me for what was exquisite pain. Sweat dripped off me as I pounded into her until I erupted into a fireball, coming like it was my first time. Molten red flames jumped before my eyes.
I stroked her tenderly and kissed her hot cheek. “Can we keep doing this?”
“We’ll have to wait a while, though, won’t we?” She giggled.
“That’s not what I meant.”
She untangled herself from my arms and looked at me with a puzzled frown. “Like a relationship? Us going exclusive?”
I played with her fingers. It did sound like I was asking Mirabel to be my girlfriend. Her green eyes gleamed with curiosity and something deeper. She had one of those faces that always offered something new.
“I haven’t really felt like fucking anyone since we hooked up,” I admitted.
Her eyes narrowed slightly like she was searching for blackheads on my face. “I guess so.”
“Don’t sound so certain.” I stroked her arm.
“I’d like to keep doing this.” Her mouth curled at one end.
“You look like you’re being asked to jump out of a plane.”
She laughed. “Huh. Good analogy. It feels like that a bit. Not sure where the hell this will land. Impaled on a fence or rolling in a field of soft clover.”
“There’s only one kind of impaling going on here.” I ran my fingers up her thigh.
Her chuckle helped tension drain from my shoulders.
“Does that mean you’ll answer my calls and texts?” I asked, with a faint smile.
“Maybe.” She looked up at me with a challenging twinkle in her eyes. “I’m not sure how to do this. I’ve spent the past decade or so thinking of you as a prat.”
I scanned her face for a smile, but she remained serious. “Right. Well, maybe with time you’ll see me as a generous prat who’s got the serious hots for you.”
Her lips curled into a slow smile.
“That’s better.” I took her into my arms. “From one prat to another.”
Her laughter vibrated through my chest.
A week after the soiree, my mother called me into the library. Will hovered about, as usual. I nodded to him in greeting. He was like a piece of furniture passed down from generation to generation—quiet, understated, and always in the same spot.
My mother, on the other hand, was like that priceless antique that drew all the attention. Dressed in red skyscraper heels and a pink dress that revealed an hourglass figure, my mother made looking glamorous effortless. She could have passed as someone twenty years younger. With her long red fingernail, she pointed to an image for Will to examine from a selection of mock-ups.
“Are those for the resort?” I asked, joining them.
She nodded. “We’re hoping to open within twelve months.” She tapped her gold fountain pen, which had been passed down from my grandfather. “We had a walk around the spa yesterday.” She glanced up at Will, as though I needed reminding that he was part of the family. “It’s rather bucolic with that stone wall finish. I thought you would have gone for a modern design.” She rose from her desk and navigated the room, settling by the etched marble fireplace, where the bust of a stern Lovechilde ancestor sat.