Page 23 of The Rhino's Rose

“The plumber can wait. I can’t.”

A soft gasp leaves her parted lips as I grip her waist and lift her onto the worktable. “Here?” she says when I gather her dress in my hands and pull it up to pool at her hips.

“I’m not going to fuck you here. Not today, anyway. But I need to taste you and feel you come. Right now.”

“What if someone looks through the front window?”

“They’ll see us hugging and kissing, be happy for us, and move along.”

“If your face is between my legs, only one of us will be kissing.”

I chuckle at the adorable eyebrow wiggle she gives me. “There’s more than one way to taste you.” I press two fingers against the thin strip of material covering her pussy, running my knuckles up and down until she’s rocking against my touch and I feel her wetness through the fabric. Then I tug the panties from her body and bring them to my face, groaning as I inhale her intimate scent.

Her eyes open wider when I drag my tongue over the material. Then she gasps as I take the section that’s damp with her juices into my mouth and suck it, a rumble vibrating from deep inside me.

“Delicious,” I say, tucking the panties into my pocket while stepping between her knees. “My sweet Rose.” Rolling the pad of my thumb back and forth over her clit, I cup her face with the other hand and press my mouth to her soft lips.

She parts for me, a throatymmmvibrating against my tongue when I slide it alongside hers. Back arched, she tips her hips up, her body rocking in time with my rhythm on her clit. She breaks the kiss, whispering, “Harder,” through choppy breaths.

I give her what she needs while sliding one finger inside her, then adding a second, her pussy hugging my fingers like a vise.

“More,” she pants, moaning when I ease three fingers into her tight wet heat while working my thumb faster and harder over her clit. Her mouth falls open, her beautiful, erotic cries of pleasure filling the air.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” I say when the last ripple runs through her and she snuggles against my chest. “I was such a fool to think I could have a life without you.”

“Good thing I smartened you up.” Chin digging into my chest, she tilts her head to meet my gaze. “Take me to my house? Now that I’m not selfishly and thoroughly indulging in your touch, I feel bad keeping your plumber friend waiting.”

“I’ll make it up to him with beers at The Brew. How about I tell him to stop by another day, and you and I can go share a nice, long wallow in the big tub before I take you to bed and make you come until I’ve wrung every last orgasm out of your beautiful, sexy body.”

A fresh wave of rosy pink blooms on her face, her smile stretching nearly ear to ear. “If you do that, I might never want to go home.”

Or maybe she’ll decide that she’s already there.

Seven

ROSE

It’s happening. Tonight.

I know Cornelius will be okay if I change my mind and tell him I’m not ready. But I am ready. I’ve been ready to have this night with him since the first time I met him. Except, on that day, I had no idea how huge his cock was. And I should have at leastguessedit’d be huge, because by that point, I’d been in Lexi’s store, and Every Witch Way sells some obscenely large dildos, all of which are molded from real penises. But she didn’t have a rhino man model, so my naïve nineteen-year-old brain just pictured Cornelius having a standard human cock, except in gray.

Oh, how wrong I was.

The water shuts off in the bathroom, and my pulsegoes into overdrive, filling my ears with a staccato beat. The Jack and Jill door opens and Cornelius steps into the bedroom with a towel around his waist, the fluffy white terry barely reining in his erection. It’s like he has a tent pole under there. Only the pole is made from one of those trees with the freakishly large girth.

“You look pale. And shaky.” Cornelius doesn’t have eyebrows, but the movement of his ears is a telltale sign of concern. “When did you last eat? How about I carry you to the kitchen and make you dinner?”

“I don’t think I could eat right now,” I say, fiddling with the tie of my itty-bitty robe.

“Then I’ll carry you to the tub, help you get settled, and leave you to relax in private—but please call for me when you’re ready to get out.”

“And then what?”

“Then whatever you want to happen happens. Dinner. Television. Talking. Crafts. Cuddling. Or I can sleep in the guest room and give you space.”

“I don’t want space—did you say crafts?” I ask, giggling when he nods. “What would you do if I choose crafts?”

“Get my supplies out of the closet.”

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