Lib Novel Page 103
“I can get it livable by next week,” I promise, knowing I’ll be working on it day in and day out to make that happen. But it’s worth it. “In the meantime, we have an empty house, and I have an empty bed just waiting to meet you.”
“Oh really,” she laughs. I take her hand and lead her up the stairs. My family’s photos line the walls, ones I used to avoid looking at because Amber is in so many of them. But lately, I’ve made it a practice to study them, to see those twin smiles from all those years ago. I’m coming to peace with what happened, and even the realization that it wasn’t my fault. Not in the way I’ve been carrying it.
Life is full of ups and downs, celebrations and tragedies, love and loss. I’ve had my fair share of all of them, most humans have. But my role is not to be some martyr, saving others at my expense. My role is to move through the hard times to get to the good, and to honor the things I’ve experienced and the people I’ve loved along the way.
We get to my room, and Nina turns once she reaches the bed. She offers a shy smile, as I lean against the doorway and watch her. With slow, careful fingers, she lifts her t-shirt, showing off the lacy bra underneath, making me suck in a hard rush of air. She unbuttons her jeans, slides them down her gorgeous hips, leaning over to offer me a full view of her cleavage. She stands again, clad in nothing but her matching panties and bra, waiting to see what I do next.
There’s no question. I close the bedroom door and lock it, just in case we’re in here longer than it takes to finish an ice cream. I tear off my shirt, and her eyes land on my chest, then my abs.
“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” she says, dropping to her knees to help me with my belt. I tug her back to standing, then gently push so that she falls on the bed.
“You’ll have plenty of time for that later,” I promise her. “Right now, I just need to feel your body under mine while I’m buried in you.”
“Then hurry up, Winters.”
I don’t need to be told twice. My belt comes off, then my jeans, then everything else until I’m covering her body, nothing between us. She grips my cock, her tiny hand so strong as she slides up and down, nearly bringing me to completion before we’ve even started.
“Easy there, Sugar,” I say. “It’s been a while, and I’m afraid this might be quicker than usual, especially if you keep stroking me like that.”
She gives a few more tugs, a wicked grin on her face as I groan, then grip her wrist. “Enough,” I growl, but there’s a grin on my face. I reach around her, unclasping her bra and sliding it down until her beautiful breasts are in full view. Holy fuck, she has such perfect breasts. I can’t help but take one nipple between my lips, my hand cupping the other one as she squirms below me. Her skin is so sweet, so very tender, like my favorite dessert. I could inhale her, she’s so delicious.
My hand finds the hem of her panties, and I slide them down her hips, pausing as my mouth grazes her luscious mound. She spreads for me, and I dip my tongue into her juices, lapping up that sweet nectar, savoring every taste of her.
“Don’t make me come,” she begs, tugging at my hair. “I want you to, but like you, I need you inside me. Please.”
I don’t make her beg anymore. I crawl over her body, then nudge my cock at her entrance. Before I enter, I look at just how beautiful we are together. Her glistening sex, swollen and pink, ready for me to penetrate. Then I do, sliding in, both of us breathing out a simultaneous sigh of relief. It’s like coming home, and I move slow to savor every moment of it. I hold her body close, kissing her gently as she rocks against my groin. Knowing I’ll soon have her every night has me nearing climax, and I have to cool my jets to regain control.
“Hold on,” I say, stilling above her. She wiggles her hips, and I growl in reproach.
“Bray, we can do it again. Please, just fuck me.”
I look at her, the way her hair falls around her like snow. Her swollen, rosy lips. The flush in her cheeks. The slight smattering of freckles that are barely noticeable across her nose. The love radiating from her eyes. I get this woman forever.
I slam into her, and she arches against me, meeting me pound for pound. I hope to God my family stays away, because neither one of us are quiet as we release every ounce of tension we’ve experienced all this time apart. I feel her clench around me, and I hold on as hard as I can until I feel her pulse, her head tilted back, her cries soft and helpless as I climax with her.
Once we’ve stilled, our bodies slick with sweat and juices, I lie next to her, tracing lazy circles on her belly. I marvel at her skin, how soft she feels. My finger travels up her side, then to her breast, and the way she arches at my touch has my cock responding. We offer no words, just quiet marveling as my hands explore her, and she explores me right back. I want to memorize her every curve, every sound she makes, the taste of her. I cup her face, my lips pressing against hers softly. She responds with the gentlest flick of her tongue, and I swear, it’s like we never even fucked, because soon I’m inside her again, where I could live every day of my life.
I make a vow to move us into that house—come hell or high water—by the weekend.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Jordy
Three months later.
At this moment, I am sitting at a little café, listening to a young girl speak in Italian to her mother, but only catching every other word. She’s so passionate about whatever they’re speaking about that I am completely engrossed, even if I pretend it’s the book in front of me that has my attention.
I think they’re talking about the gelato. At least, that’s what I’m passionate about. I spoon a bit into my mouth, closing my eyes as if I’m experiencing the perfect orgasm. Let me tell you, it’s better than any orgasm I’ve ever had. So good that this is my third gelato today.
You know that book where the divorcee eats her way through Italy on her self-exploration retreat around the world? This is me now, eating my way through Italy, and loving every second of it.
If my mother could see me now, she’d blow a gasket. Especially when she finds out I’ve gone up a size to accommodate my food adventure. My God is it worth it.
It’s been almost two months since I left the states. I started in Spain, exploring the Gothic Quarter, seeing Barcelona from a cable car, and losing my inhibitions while dancing the night away in darkly lit nightclubs. Now I’m here in Italy, where I’ve slept in late every morning, perused numerous art galleries, enjoyed lazy afternoons floating in a gondola, and indulged in eating. So much eating.
My mom would also be horrified at how utterly uncultured I am most days. I’ve also watched American movies in the theater and visited touristy dive bars, just to feel a bit of America while I’m away. All normal stuff I never really enjoyed at home, and I love it.
Maybe, like that book, I’ll find love in one of these places—or maybe I won’t. It’s definitely not my main objective. For the first time in my life, I’m living life by my rules, with no one to tell me I can’t.