So when he’s suddenly thrust back into the single life, Miles has one thing in mind.
The plan is simple, and his intentions are clear. He’s not looking for love.
But sometimes all it takes is one person, and one weekend, to change everything.
She responded instantly, rocking against my hands. I smiled, loving how fucking wet she was. It took everything in me not to whip my dick out and fuck her right there.
She fisted my collar, muffling her cries and whimpers into the crook of my neck.
Nearby, a car alarm went off. She tensed but I let out a strained laugh. “We’re always getting interrupted.” I pulled my fingers out of her, stuck them in my mouth, and held in my whimper. She tasted so good. She did whimper, though. Probably because I didn’t get to finish what I started.
“We can pick this up later,” I said.
We were quiet as we got on I-95, but it wasn’t like earlier in the day when the silence made me want to jump out of my skin. When we passed the exit that would lead us to her loft, Noelle shoulders relaxed, and her lips curled up in a soft smile. I took that to mean she knew I was going to my house, but to be sure, I asked, “We’re going to my place. Is that cool?”
“Definitely.”
And we were quiet again because I realized what I’d said. We were going to my house.
The silence and my thoughts about what bringing Noelle home symbolized lasted our whole ride, only ending when we got inside my place and I offered her something to drink.
I leaned against the counter and rested my head against the cabinet above. My heart slammed in my chest. This was momentous. The importance of having Noelle in my house—in my kitchen—drinking from glasses I bought after my ex left me and took all her things, along with some of my confidence with her.
I felt good—happy despite my nerves. In one night Noelle threw me and my plans off kilter. The guys were right; she had me by the balls. My only desire was to get out of my head and enjoy every minute of our limited time together.
I opened my eyes and found her watching me over the top of the glass. A small smile played on her juicy lips, and she had that look that let me know she knew what she did to me.
She fisted my collar, muffling her cries and whimpers into the crook of my neck.
Nearby, a car alarm went off. She tensed but I let out a strained laugh. “We’re always getting interrupted.” I pulled my fingers out of her, stuck them in my mouth, and held in my whimper. She tasted so good. She did whimper, though. Probably because I didn’t get to finish what I started.
“We can pick this up later,” I said.
We were quiet as we got on I-95, but it wasn’t like earlier in the day when the silence made me want to jump out of my skin. When we passed the exit that would lead us to her loft, Noelle shoulders relaxed, and her lips curled up in a soft smile. I took that to mean she knew I was going to my house, but to be sure, I asked, “We’re going to my place. Is that cool?”
“Definitely.”
And we were quiet again because I realized what I’d said. We were going to my house.
The silence and my thoughts about what bringing Noelle home symbolized lasted our whole ride, only ending when we got inside my place and I offered her something to drink.
I leaned against the counter and rested my head against the cabinet above. My heart slammed in my chest. This was momentous. The importance of having Noelle in my house—in my kitchen—drinking from glasses I bought after my ex left me and took all her things, along with some of my confidence with her.
I felt good—happy despite my nerves. In one night Noelle threw me and my plans off kilter. The guys were right; she had me by the balls. My only desire was to get out of my head and enjoy every minute of our limited time together.
I opened my eyes and found her watching me over the top of the glass. A small smile played on her juicy lips, and she had that look that let me know she knew what she did to me.
When she isn’t writing, or reading, you can find her binge-watching True Crime television with "Snapped" being the most watched.
Born in New York, raised in Florida, and matured in Massachusetts, she's never sure how to answer the question, "Where are you from?"
At the moment, though, Lory has recently returned to New York where she's drawing on the city lights, and packed to the brim trains, to inspire her writing.
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Awesome covers!
ReplyDeleteThe books sound great.
ReplyDeletesounds so good.
ReplyDeleteSounds like a good read.
ReplyDeleteSounds interesting
ReplyDeleteI cannot wait to read More Than a Rebound, and wish the best in keeping up all your good works in the future.
ReplyDelete