Cass: Around six.
“Cassidy said six.”
When we get back to the condo, Theo immediately lifts me into his arms and carries me into the bathroom. I don’t get to strip off my clothes before he stands me in the shower and turns on the water, wetting my hair and dress.
I’m addicted to his touch.
Every time he thrusts inside me, my mind turns off. There’s no inner monologue or fantasies designed to help me come as there once were with other men. No, when I’m with Theo, I live the fantasy. He’s not gentle, but I never enjoyed romantic sex. He’s rough, hungry for my body, and demanding.
The one obstacle we struggle with and try hard to work through is my inability to reach an orgasm without the aid of his fingers on my clit. It’s just not happening. Theo hits the perfect spot over and over again, and the orgasm is right there... looming within my reach, but unless he circles my clit a few times, I can’t fall over the edge.
We’re not waving the white flag, though. Theo’s getting too creative for his own good with new positions in search of the one that may trigger my orgasm, but we’re not making much progress so far.
Still, sex with Theo isamazing.
It’s an endeavor. A ritual. I’m starved for his touch, his kisses, and the all-encompassing pleasure coursing through me whenever he pins me to the mattress, the wall, or any other surface he deems fit. I love that we’re both sex-crazed to an extent, unable to keep our hands off each other for longer than a few hours at a time. I’ve not had sex for twenty months, and I sure am catching up now.
“Since you’re going out, I’ll ask the guys to come over for a few beers,” he says when we’re getting dressed in the bedroom half an hour later. Water drips from his hair, the shimmering beads dotting his broad, tanned chest. All the Hayes are naturally a few tones darker in complexion than the average American, and they have their Brazilian grandmother to thank for that. “Stop looking at me like that,” he adds.
“Like what?”
“Like you want to lick me.”
My teeth sink into my lower lip. “Is it my fault you’re so incredibly handsome?”
He drapes an arm around my ribs, my boobs resting on his forearm when he turns us to face the mirror. “We do make one good-looking couple... especially when you’re naked.” He nips my neck, soothing the sting with a kiss. “So sexy.”
“Enough,” I chuckle, freeing myself out of his grasp.
Theo opens the closet to retrieve a two-piece red outfit off the hanger. “Wear this. I’ll enjoy taking it off later.”
I eye the tight, short skirt and a matching spaghetti-strap blouse with a deep V-neck. It’s revealing to say the least. “You don’t mind me going out in this when you’re not around?”
He smirks, tossing the outfit on the bed. “You can wear whatever you want. You deal with shitheads like a pro, but...” Grabbing my throat, he pushes me against the mirror. I’m sure he’s aiming forintimidation, but mischief dances in his eyes and the tender touch ruins the effect. “If any suicidal asshole dares to touch you, I know how to fight.”
“You need to let me go,” I whisper on a sigh. “You’re making me wet all over again, and we don’t have time for another round.” I peck his lips, then duck under his arm.
Instead of the clothes he chose, I open the closet again to grab a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. “I’ll make pasta before I put on the very provocative clothing you picked out.”
“You’re not cooking. I ordered takeout.”
“Why?” I huff, spinning around to shove my finger in his chest. “I have time. I’ll make cold wraps.”
“The girls will be here soon, and I want your pussy for dessert, so no, you don’t have time to cook tonight.”
???
The doorbell sounds five minutes after I was served as dessert on the kitchen island. I barely had time to slip into the red outfit Theo chose and rush out of the bedroom to get the door, my hair looking like something rats made a nest out of.
Four girls are already in the living room, all dressed and done up to perfection, ready to party. Cass introduces Kaya while they make themselves at home on the couch. A sweet, pungent mixture of four kinds of perfumes filters through the condo, covering the faint, aromatic smell of takeout.
“I thought ’we were getting ready here,” I say, eyeing their makeup and hairdos. “You said—”
“That was a misdirection, babe,” Cassidy chuckles, handing Theo a bottle of bubbly with a well-practiced, spoiled look twisting her features. “Be a doll and open it for us,” she says, the claws retracted and disdain that studded her voice when she told him to choke on his beer atTortugo,now absent.
“Misdirection?” I echo, eyebrows knotted in the middle.
“It means that by saying you’ll get ready together, she meant you’ll have a few drinks and bitch about guys,” Theo explains, pulling five flutes out of the cupboard.