Page 53 of Dreamboat

I do, parting my legs enough to give him the access we both want.

My skirt is up, my panties are pushed aside again and he’s sliding into me all within the time it takes my heart to skip a beat.

I cry out. It’s drowned out by the feral sound that escapes him as he pumps into me from behind.

I’m lost to it all, and just as he predicted, I climax as my hands fist the fabric of the couch and he pounds his cock into me with punishing thrusts, each deeper than the one before.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Donovan

I shove a hand through my hair as I watch her sleep.

I needed to fuck her three separate times before the fire inside of me turned to embers. It was short-lived because before she finally fell asleep in my arms after I ate her pussy to one last orgasm. I was tempted to demand she wrap her lips around my dick, but I wore her out.

She was satiated as she snuggled her head into the pillow and her eyes drifted closed.

She belongs here with me.

I’ve felt it since we were together on the cruise, but now that she’s in my home it’s obvious. Whatever this is, it reaches far beyond fucking for me.

I’m starting to fall in love with her, or maybe I’m just falling faster now. I labeled my fascination with her social media postings as nothing but a harmless infatuation, but I think it was the foundation for what I’ve been experiencing ever since I saw her on the cruise.

“Is it morning?” she asks with her eyes still closed.

“Soon,” I tell her from where I’m standing at the foot of the bed. “It’s just after five.”

“Yuck.”

I laugh. “Are you not a morning person, Delia?”

That lures her eyes open. She looks me over, her gaze stopping at the black running shorts and T-shirt I’m wearing. “You’re sweaty. Did you go for a run or something?”

I did just that to try and burn off the unending desire I feel for her. It didn’t accomplish anything but produce sweat and a burning sensation in my calves.

“I ran five miles.”

“Why?” She laughs. “I mean I know why. It’s obvious you work out all the time, but why so early in the morning?”

I glance at the window. Shades are covering it now and the view is nothing to speak of, but the city I love is beyond it, waiting to be discovered. I’ve lived here my entire life and still don’t know all of its hidden secrets.

“It’s quiet out there.”

She rolls to her side. The sheet covering her falls slightly, exposing her bare back. “It’s quiet in here, too.”

I suppose it is. Within hours the symphony that is the sounds of New York City will filter in through the open windows. Car horns, people screaming their frustrations at one another, and emergency sirens will remind everyone on this island why they love or hate this place.

“Is it quiet in the mornings where you live?” I ask because I’ve been curious about what neighborhood she calls home.

“Kind of,” she answers in a vague way.

I move to sit on the edge of the bed. I’m not close enough to touch her, but I am close enough to smell the fragrance of her perfume and her skin. “Kind of? Do you live in the heart of Times Square?”

That earns me a soft laugh. “Can you imagine? I love that part of the city but I couldn’t do it.”

“You couldn’t live there?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I lived in Tribeca for a while with two roommates when I was working toward my first degree.”

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