I mention that your skin is soft?” he whispers between kisses.
“Yes, you did,” I manage to say.
“How about we stay in bed for the rest of the day?”
That’s when my stomach growls long and hard. It’s so embarrassing that I hide my face against his chest.
He laughs and takes my chin, lifting my face. “I take that back. How about we eat first, and then crawl into bed for the rest of the day?”
I chuckle, no longer mortified. “How about we eat and then get to work on my article? Plus I have to email the editor. I think adding this destination to my taxi series—”
Suddenly his warm tongue is wrapped around mine. When he’s done, he says, “You’re a workaholic. And every time you have an episode, I’m going to punish you.”
My eyebrows pull together. I’m perplexed. “Punish me how?”
Belmont takes my shoulders and guides me back to the edge of the bed to sit. He guides my back down onto the mattress and lifts my legs over his shoulders.
I gasp in anticipation of what he might do next. Oh my, is he going to do it again–pleasure me?
His mouth consumes one swollen lip of my vagina and then the other. I cry out as soon as his wet tongue connects with my “ON” button and he commences to punish me for thinking about work. I hear myself breathing heavily while realizing he’s going to be punishing me a lot because I’m always thinking about work.
Belmont gave me three more orgasms before my stomach warned him again that I need food. So he reluctantly left me alone to freshen up.
I’m slowly raking the brush across my teeth, wondering if I have a new boyfriend or not. I feel as if the last nine days never happened. My heart doesn’t ache anymore. Maya and Adrian aren’t distant memories, but when I think of them, my mind doesn’t conjure the image of the two of them screwing like soft-porn stars.
I splash my face with warm water and use a fluffy red towel to dry it. The linens, the bedspread, and towels are all five-star quality. One thing’s for sure: Belmont has impeccable taste, right down to his Cavalli sneakers. Believe me, I noticed.
As soon as I turn off the faucet, I hear a faint knock on the bedroom door. I give myself a final once-over. I’m glad Belmont likes my hair like this. Whenever I know I’m going to be trapped inside for a week, drinking coffee and writing, the first thing I do is wash the straight right out of my hair. I get the makeup off my face and put on a long baseball T-shirt and leg-warmers.
There’s the knocking again.
“I’m ready!” I say as I trot over to the door, thinking it’s Belmont. When I open it, there’s Charlie, looking madder than a raging bull. “Hi,” I say apprehensively.
“Here’s your purse.” He shoves the bag at me.
I’m slow to take it, but he doesn’t let go. His eyes roam past me to study the messy linens on the bed.
“Did he make you climb the walls, see stars?” he asks in a stinging tone.
My mouth falls open. I’m speechless. He’s made me feel so cheap.
“He’s good at it, isn’t he?” he continues with a cruel expression.
I still don’t know what to say.
“Ask him why he’s so damn good at fucking you.”
On that note, Charlie stomps off down the hallway, still shirtless and wearing the Bermuda shorts from last night.
Chapter 5
The Self-Appointed Tour Guide
I’m still vexed by what Charlie said. I walk down the hallway barefooted, carrying my shoes in one hand. The premium hardwood floors are so glossy it should be a crime to trample on them in shoes.
Belmont has taped signs on the walls that say, “Kitchen This Way” with an arrow pointing me in the direction I should go. It’s certainly a bit overstated to go through all that trouble, and Charlie has me doubting his brother’s authenticity. If that was his goal, then it worked. Why would Charlie know that Belmont’s good in bed? It’s simply weird. I’m sure he is insinuating that Belmont has had
“Yes, you did,” I manage to say.
“How about we stay in bed for the rest of the day?”
That’s when my stomach growls long and hard. It’s so embarrassing that I hide my face against his chest.
He laughs and takes my chin, lifting my face. “I take that back. How about we eat first, and then crawl into bed for the rest of the day?”
I chuckle, no longer mortified. “How about we eat and then get to work on my article? Plus I have to email the editor. I think adding this destination to my taxi series—”
Suddenly his warm tongue is wrapped around mine. When he’s done, he says, “You’re a workaholic. And every time you have an episode, I’m going to punish you.”
My eyebrows pull together. I’m perplexed. “Punish me how?”
Belmont takes my shoulders and guides me back to the edge of the bed to sit. He guides my back down onto the mattress and lifts my legs over his shoulders.
I gasp in anticipation of what he might do next. Oh my, is he going to do it again–pleasure me?
His mouth consumes one swollen lip of my vagina and then the other. I cry out as soon as his wet tongue connects with my “ON” button and he commences to punish me for thinking about work. I hear myself breathing heavily while realizing he’s going to be punishing me a lot because I’m always thinking about work.
Belmont gave me three more orgasms before my stomach warned him again that I need food. So he reluctantly left me alone to freshen up.
I’m slowly raking the brush across my teeth, wondering if I have a new boyfriend or not. I feel as if the last nine days never happened. My heart doesn’t ache anymore. Maya and Adrian aren’t distant memories, but when I think of them, my mind doesn’t conjure the image of the two of them screwing like soft-porn stars.
I splash my face with warm water and use a fluffy red towel to dry it. The linens, the bedspread, and towels are all five-star quality. One thing’s for sure: Belmont has impeccable taste, right down to his Cavalli sneakers. Believe me, I noticed.
As soon as I turn off the faucet, I hear a faint knock on the bedroom door. I give myself a final once-over. I’m glad Belmont likes my hair like this. Whenever I know I’m going to be trapped inside for a week, drinking coffee and writing, the first thing I do is wash the straight right out of my hair. I get the makeup off my face and put on a long baseball T-shirt and leg-warmers.
There’s the knocking again.
“I’m ready!” I say as I trot over to the door, thinking it’s Belmont. When I open it, there’s Charlie, looking madder than a raging bull. “Hi,” I say apprehensively.
“Here’s your purse.” He shoves the bag at me.
I’m slow to take it, but he doesn’t let go. His eyes roam past me to study the messy linens on the bed.
“Did he make you climb the walls, see stars?” he asks in a stinging tone.
My mouth falls open. I’m speechless. He’s made me feel so cheap.
“He’s good at it, isn’t he?” he continues with a cruel expression.
I still don’t know what to say.
“Ask him why he’s so damn good at fucking you.”
On that note, Charlie stomps off down the hallway, still shirtless and wearing the Bermuda shorts from last night.
Chapter 5
The Self-Appointed Tour Guide
I’m still vexed by what Charlie said. I walk down the hallway barefooted, carrying my shoes in one hand. The premium hardwood floors are so glossy it should be a crime to trample on them in shoes.
Belmont has taped signs on the walls that say, “Kitchen This Way” with an arrow pointing me in the direction I should go. It’s certainly a bit overstated to go through all that trouble, and Charlie has me doubting his brother’s authenticity. If that was his goal, then it worked. Why would Charlie know that Belmont’s good in bed? It’s simply weird. I’m sure he is insinuating that Belmont has had
Similar Books
