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I pull away from her and lay flat on the floor. “Let go of the chair,” I tell her, and she glances down, frowning at me. “Sit on my face, Sus.”
“Oh God,” she moans as she practically collapses on top of me, her legs straddling my head, her pussy hanging right above my mouth.
“Get into a sixty-nine position,” I tell her next, and she shifts. Moves. Wraps those lush lips tight around my cock as I continue to sample her pussy, and holy shit, we’re both coming within minutes. What’s happening between us, what we’re sharing, I can’t even describe it. It’s a complete fuck fest—I’ve never gone at it with a woman like this before, and I don’t ever want it to stop.
Sweaty and naked and covered in come, we end up wrapped around each other, still on the floor, her head nestled in that spot between my neck and shoulder, my fingers playing with her nipples as if I can’t stop touching her.
And I can’t.
“This is too much,” she finally says, her voice low, her entire body limp as she presses it against mine.
“You tired?”
“Exhausted.”
“We should get into bed,” I suggest, and she shakes her head, nuzzling her nose against my neck.
“Not yet. I like how you feel wrapped around me,” she whispers.
I like how she feels wrapped around me too.
Probably too much.
I wake up to the insistent sound of my cell phone both ringing and vibrating at the same time, the most annoying sound in all the land. It stops only to start up again, and I have no idea how long this has been going on.
Or why the person calling won’t leave me a bloody voicemail.
Reaching out, I slap my hand on top of the bedside table, trying my best to find the phone without waking Cannon. Who so happens to be sleeping behind me, the heavy weight of his cock nudged against my butt, one thick arm wrapped around my waist and holding me tight. The man is a giant teddy bear who I’m sure would let me snuggle up next to him all night if I wanted.
That I had the presence of mind in the middle of the night to put my phone on the charger I brought with me is impressive, considering how—preoccupied I was last evening. I unplug the phone and check the screen.
The name Mother is right there, as bold as can be.
Hurriedly slipping out of bed, I race toward the bathroom, shutting the door and answering, “Hello,” in the most intelligible whisper I can manage.
“My God, how long does it take you to answer a phone these days, hmm? I thought you were dead!”
Mother can be quite dramatic, if you didn’t sense that already.
“I’m fine. You should’ve just left a voicemail,” I tell her groggily. I shuffle over to the counter, my gaze snagging on my reflection in the mirror and I almost recoil in fear.
I look…hideous. I’m naked, and I can see all my jiggly bits, every single flaw I have is on blatant display and has been since last night. My hair is curling literally everywhere, like I stuck my finger in a socket and got the greatest shock of my life. Mascara is smudged beneath my eyes, and my cheeks are puffy. I swear there are red teeth marks on my breasts and I have razor burn along the left side of my jaw.
“It’s so late, Susanna. Past eleven and you’re still in bed?” She sounds cross, but that’s nothing new. “I thought you’d be at work.”
“I work every other Monday. You know this.” She does know this. She just wants to harass me for some reason.
“I want you to come to dinner,” she says, changing the subject.
“All right. When?” I rub my forehead, then smooth my hair down as best I can, though I’m sure it’s no help. I need a shower. And a blow out. A facial, a deep cleanse, a massage. An all-day visit to a spa sounds like the most reasonable plan.
“Tonight.”
I pause, waiting for her to say something else, but she remains quiet. “Why such late notice?”
“We need to talk. Oh, and you should bring your friend with you.”
I’m so confused by her request. “My friend? Do you mean Evie?” My mother hates Evie with the passion of a thousand burning suns.
