Page 163 of Taste of Addiction

Graham hugs me to his chest tighter. “Thank you for allowing me to be a part of this good news. We have the rest of our lives to celebrate every day we have together.”

* * *

The next few days are a blur of lounging around the penthouse, finding new positions to twist my body in for our heated romps, and ordering takeout. The blizzard that hit a few days after Christmas barely has a speck of snow left on the ground as a reminder of its wrath. And by blizzard, I mean a three inch dumping of powder. The media sure has a way to get everyone fired up, burning through the store shelves for all the bread and milk people can pile into their carts. I know this because the day before the storm, I had a craving for cereal. Old-school, only-marketed-to-appear-healthy, cereal. Except, there was no milk to be found anywhere. While Graham insisted on sending out Collins to hunt a jug down from some dairy farm—okay, I’m being a bit dramatic—he also promised me that we were going to have a low-key end to our holiday break.

“I want to take you somewhere,” Graham says randomly from the couch. We just finished watching a Christmas romance movie. The kind that always ends with the perfectly timed snowfall at a little sleepy town tucked away in the mountains.

“Umm, seems a bit spur-of-the-moment.”

“Also known as spontaneous?” he teases, tickling my sides.

“What day is it?” I ask, pulling my knees up into my chest and yawning.

“This is exactly why we need to go out. You have lost all track of time.”

I stretch my arms up over my head. “But seriously, what day is it?”

“New Year’s Eve, Angie. One of the most romantic nights of the year.”

“Wow.”

“What?” he asks with genuine curiosity.

“It’s crazy how inspired you can be from watching a little Hallmark movie. You are a changed man.”

“Let’s get dressed,” he says, ignoring my teasing.

“Okay?”

“Come,” he says, pulling me up from the cushions. “We can’t be hermits forever. Eventually, someone will come check on us and make sure we’re alive.”

I groan as he drags me up the stairs. I smack his butt playfully on the way up, calling him soft.

“Soft?”

“Like a cuddly bear. You’re losing your touch. I’m worried that my days are numbered where you rip my clothes off and have your way with me.”

“We spent the entire morning with my cock buried inside your tight pussy. Your days aren’t numbered. The count has just started.”

“Tell my sex drive that,” I whine.

As soon as my feet feel the rush of air, I yelp as he hauls my ass over to the bed, flinging me on top. Oh, here we go.

“Slide to the edge of the bed. I want to see your eyes when I thrust inside of you.”

He stands at the edge, rips my pajama pants down, and lifts my ankles high up on his shoulders. Gripping my ass cheeks for leverage, he plows into me. I arch my back, accepting his demands. In and out. He pushes himself forward in powerful strokes, then pulls himself nearly out—hovering at my entrance. Then does it over again. And again.

“Graham,” I scream, writhing with pleasure as he presses his thumb onto my clit and rubs it so hard that I lose all bearings. “I’m coming…”

“Yesss… Give me your pleasure.”

By the time he is about to explode, I am on my second wave, thrashing around on the bed.

We scream each other’s name in the quiet of our room. Graham collapses on top of me, panting out his breaths.

“Tell me that will satisfy you for a couple of hours.”

“I can’t make any promises,” I say with a toothy smile.

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