Page 118 of Love or Tequila in Unexpected Places

Angelo stood, still supporting her weight as she came down from her high. Without hesitation, he lined his cock up to her entrance. “My turn now,” he growled, and Allison realized how much she loved that sound.

He pushed the tip of his cock inside her slowly, carefully, a stark contrast to the intensity from earlier. She could feel every inch of him as he filled her, stroking her walls and sending shivers down her spine.

He didn’t rush. His thrusts were slow but hard, giving her exactly what she needed after two explosive orgasms. His hands gripped her hips, her back slightly arched as her head fell back in pure bliss. He nudged her ankles wider with a gentle kick before wrapping her in his arms—one hand fondling her breast, the other lightly encircling her neck, pulling her back against him.

His touch was firm but tender, possessive yet comforting. Each stroke of his cock was punctuated by the feel of his fingers teasing her sensitive nipples, switching from one to the other with each thrust. His grip on her neck remained light, more of an anchor than a restraint.

Soft breaths and deep groans escaped him, right against her ear, causing her walls to flutter in response. She could feel the pressure building again.

“I need you to come with me, Allison,” he murmured, his voice almost pleading, laced with a vulnerability she hadn’t heard before. This felt… different. Something too intense to dwell on, so she let it pass.

That’s a problem for future Allison.

Angelo’s hand slid from her neck, dipping lower to rub slow, deliberate circles on her overstimulated clit.

Allison’s head rested on his shoulder, her body exhausted from her previous climax yet teetering on the edge of another. It only took one, two, three gentle strokes of his fingers on the little nub and she felt every single muscle tense, thenfinallyrelease in a flood of euphoria.

This time, she didn’t scream or shout. Instead, a soft sob escaped her lips, as if every fear, doubt, and drop of negativity was leaving her body all at once.

Angelo wasn’t far behind. He pumped into her just twice more after her walls began choking his cock, and then he followed her into oblivion, filling her with a groan.

At least I’m already pregnant.

Twenty-Eight

ALLISON

“Oh, God,” Allison groaned. Every muscle in her body ached—the good kind of ache.

After her and Angelo’s Shower Sexcapades™, she’d been too exhausted to move. The man had literally carried her to his bed like a caveman hauling his prize back to the cave. It was both romantic and absolutely ridiculous, but she hadn’t complained. She couldn’t, even if she’d wanted to—she was that spent.

It was early afternoon when they were done, and now she’d woken up in the dead of night after sleeping right through the rest of the day.

Alone in the king-size bed, she faced the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city outside was so dark she had to squint, waiting for her eyes to adjust.

She hadn’t had much time to explore Angelo’s place the day before, but she’d definitely noticed the space. His penthouse was huge, and that most certainly extended to his bedroom.

His bedroom. Oh God. I slept in his bed.

Allison shot upright, her sleep fog instantly gone as the cool night air hit her bare skin. She gasped as the covers slid off her. It was March, and the weather hadn’t warmed up yet, making the chill all the more noticeable.

First night here and I already slept in his bed? Why the fuck didn’t he take me to my own room?

For a split second, she wondered if he even had a room set up for her, but that thought quickly dissolved. The guy had a penthouse with two floors. There had to be a room for her somewhere.

She let out a breath, then tossed the blankets aside and headed for Angelo’s unnecessarily large walk-in closet to find something to wear.

She felt like a college student sneaking around after a night of steamy sex, searching for clothes to do the famous walk of shame. Although, back in her college days, the sex hadn’t exactly been…memorable. Also, she wasn’t doing the walk of shame now. She lived here now. All her clothes were just downstairs, but she wasn’t about to parade around naked in her new abode.

She rifled through a few drawers, finding some black boxers that looked like they’d fit. No way was she wearing his clothes without underwear. That’d be crossing into way too intimate territory.

She glanced around the closet before grabbing a pair of black sweatpants, grateful for her pregnant belly and thicker thighs. At least the pants wouldn’t slide off. Lastly, she plucked an impressively large black t-shirt from one of the racks.

I swear, the man owns nothing but black. I bet even his socks are black.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she opened a few more drawers.

Yup. All black. Socks included.

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