Page 95 of Never the Best

Aunt Hattie and Missy clapped. I took a bow and gave them a regal wave.

Rhett pulled me into his arms and kissed me, like his aunt and Missy were not watching us.

“Hey, keep it PG, will you,” Aunt Hattie remarked, and Missy whistled.

“You arethewoman for me.” He looked into my eyes. “Theperfectwoman. Theperfectpartner. The perfect…everything.”

“Because I don’t want all the hoopla—engagement parties, society weddings, property portfolios that scream old money?”

“Yes.” He punctuated his answer with another kiss. He stroked my cheek like we were the only two people in the world.

Vaguely, I heard Aunt Hattie and Missy say goodbye and leave us.

“You know, I thought I wanted to sell my house because I hated it, which I do, but I want to sell it because doing it feels like freedom.”

I nodded eagerly. “I don’t want to own property. It feels like a weight I’m not ready to carry.”

“Then don’t.” Rhett’s smile widened. “For now, we’ll stay here at the cottage. Keep things simple. No big plans, no big moves. Just…us.”

“That sounds…perfect.” My lips curved into a smile.

“Good.” He rose and held out his hand. “Come on, let’s fuck to celebrate.”

“You’re so romantic.” I rolled my eyes even as I slid my hand into his and got up from the swing.

Sex had never been easy for me. I mean, my first time was with Rhett, and though the experience had been wonderful, the aftermath had messed it up for me.Butsince Rhett came back into my life as a lover, I’d started to get comfortable with sex and intimacy. I had not expected it with Rhett. I thought that it would be difficult and painful; it would bring back the wrong kind of memories while naked with him. But none of that happened. A big part of that was Rhett. He was patient. He was sexy. He wasverygood with his hands, his tongue, and his dick.

In addition to all that was his sense of humor. I never expected to laugh while having sex—it seemed irreverent, but I did with Rhett. He cracked jokes. He all but made it feel like the most normal thing in the world, even if the sexual act in itself was fireworks.

We tore at each other’s clothes as we got into the bedroom. When I was naked, he looked at me, and his rumble of masculine appreciation made me feel beautiful. His hands rested on my naked hips, and I watched him lower himself on his knees until his face was inches from my belly; the one with stretch marks. He kissed down my belly, then ran the tip of his nose up my pussy, breathing in my scent. He lifted his eyes to mine and grinned.

He pushed me backward until the back of my knees hit the bed.

He positioned me so my ass was on the bed but my feet were on the hardwood floor. He parted my thighs and licked me, long and slow. “I’m starving for you, Pearl.”

I moaned as I felt every nerve-ending in my body get ready to detonate. He suckled my clit, and I threw my head back, moaning.

“Your pussy is so fucking sweet.” He loved talking dirty, and since I got wetter because of it, he knew I liked it as well.

“Make me come,” I pleaded as he began to pump his fingers inside me.

Rhett knew how to drive me all the way to the edge, and then calm me down to do it all over again. I wasn’t in the mood for that. I wanted to orgasmnow.

As he ate me, his hands roamed up my torso to pluck at my nipples. I thrashed with need.

“Pearl, you got to stay still, darlin’, or I can’t enjoy my dessert,” he admonished.

I gave him the finger. “Finish what you started, Mr. Vanderbilt, or I may forego dessert.”

He chuckled. “You like sucking my dick too much to not do it.”

He was right. He went to work, his fingers caressed my insides, stroking my G-spot, while his tongue relentlessly stabbed my clit.

When I came, I screamed, my entire body spasming. He didn’t wait for me to settle, he hauled my hips to the end of the bed, lifted me up, and slammed into me. At that angle,he was deep inside of me. We watched each other as we always did when we made love, because it was still new, the intimacy so precious—and I sobbed as I peaked again. I came just before he spilled into me.

After we cleaned up, he cooked dinner, saying that since he’d had dessert, it was time for healthy sustenance.

With every passing day, eating was becoming more manageable. I would never be the one who’d binge eat—but I would be the one who finished a single portion of chicken parmigiana without wondering if my stomach was too bloated after the meal.

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