Page 92 of Rumor Has It

“Twenty-five at most.”

“Would you be pissed if I picked her up to snuggle?” He keeps his voice low.

“Yes.” I close my laptop and move my things to the edge of the bed.

“Would you be pissed if I picked you up to snuggle?” He reaches behind his neck, tugging his sweaty shirt over his head and leaving him wearing only the track shorts. The very low slung track shorts that direct my attention to the gorgeous V at his hips and the soft trail of hair below his belly button.

“No. Maybe.” My chest softly rumbles.

Isaiah plants a knee on the mattress. “Maybe? What kind of answer is maybe?” He crawls toward me, pushing me prone and covering my body with his.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re stinky.” I wrinkle my nose.

“I stink because I have to burn off all the food you cook. Not all of us willingly pass up a good meal like Vespa does.”

“Vespa complains about whatever I make.”

“Because she doesn’t think she has enough time to join Monty and me at the gym anymore. She says she hates coming on the bus because whenever you cook, it makes her hungry.”

“I thought she hated the infant toys?”

“Nope, that’s different. She’s afraid if she accidentally touches a pink plushie we’ll make her watch Aria the way Monty does.”

“Monty volunteers.”

“Chou, are we laying here arguing about why someone doesn’t come around who you don’t want around, or are we making the best of the next,” he looks at his watch, “twenty-five minutes of nap time?” He uses both palms to smooth back my hair. “The door’s locked and the baby is bottle drunk. We could get naked and squeeze into that shower.Maybeyou find a way for me to smell better while I find a way of making you dirty?”

Isaiah leans his weight on his shoulder. His hand travels from my check to my collarbone. Further down, he kneads my breast through my top. My back arches. I close my eyes and bite my lip, holding in a whimper. Wet and naked with Isaiah sounds perfect.

He dips his face to nuzzle my neck. A single fingertip slips under the waistband of my pants, sliding toward the button, which he deftly undoes.

“So wet for me,” he mumbles, cupping my sex. “Get up or we’re not moving.”

Wanton for his continued touch, I make a needy whimper as he extracts his hand and rolls to the side. I shimmy off the bed as quickly as I can, pushing my pants and panties down when my feet hit the floor and tip-toeing out of them. Isaiah rips a condom from the drawer. Chasing me the few steps to the bathroom, he shoves his shorts off of his hips.

He’s stark naked when the door to the tiny room snicks shut and he pins me to the sink. The heat radiating from his chest makes my thin tee feel invisible. His thick cock settles at the crease of my ass. Isaiah brushes my hair over my shoulder. Our eyes meet in the mirror as he trails his lips down my neck, sucking on the tender skin. His hand gropes under my shirt. Under my bra. He pinches my nipple. My knees weaken. The only thing keeping me standing is the pressure of his body.

I reach back, encouraging his ministrations while I tease, “I hate to break it to you, but that’s not the shower faucet.”

“Took too long. Not waiting.”

I’m put out when his hand and my shirt disappear, until I hear the foil wrapper crinkle. I gasp as Isaiah kicks my knees apart, and he traces each bump on my spine, bending me to his will.

He enters me with practiced expertise, and I lift off my heels.

“That’s right. Take all of me.” Isaiah fists my hair, twisting my face to his, sealing our lips together in a torrid kiss. His hips jolt, thrusting in and out of my slick channel, and I moan into his mouth.

My heart pounds like it will rip from my ribcage. My bra constrains my aching breasts. The silk fabric has transitioned from buttery soft to scratchy as I’ve gotten more turned on.

I want his hands on my tits. Plucking and pulling. I want his hands on my hips, slamming his hard cock into my pussy. Every waking moment, I feel Isaiah in my heart. But right now, I want to feel Isaiah everywhere.

“Watch us, Cass. See how good we fit together. You were made for me,” he demands. “Watch me. Watch me each time I make you mine.”

I take in the concentration on his face. The way his tongue and lips caress my neck… My bra strap has fallen to the side and my taut nipple is daring to escape… His hand reemerging over my flat belly and his silent promises when we make love to fill it someday with his child. It smooths over my skin, drifting lower, covering my curls. Spreading my folds.

My head falls back, cushioned by Isaiah’s shoulders. He circles my clit. My knees buckle and every other sensation heightens.

Isaiah’s muscular arms and chest hold on to me. My limbs are sluggish, yet somehow I feel as light as a feather.

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