Page 43 of Such a Sweet Girl

Twisting a strand of her silken hair around my finger, I tugged gently, enjoying the way her pupils flared.

‘What’s the plan for today? She asked, pouting as Elmo hopped down from between us. I scooped her against me and ran my hand down under the covers, cupping her ass.

‘Lay in bed all day and ravish you.’

‘I do like a good ravishing.’ Francesca smiled, tipping her hips to grind herself against me. ‘Although I’m also very hungry.’

Right on cue, her stomach gave an almighty grumble.

‘I still can’t believe you’re here,’ I said, marvelling at each freckle across her pretty nose.

‘Two whole months of you.’

Warmth flushed through me and I kissed her neck, inhaling her sweet scent. Having her in my bed felt like a dream even after the month she’d been there. Between our sporadic, heat filled visits in France, it was glorious to take a slower pace with her in my home. Months stretching ahead, a growing vat of memories behind.

‘Let’s walk in the park, stop and grab breakfast at that cute little cafe you love.’ I said, dragging the duvet off of us to a mock protest on her part.

Her tiny pyjama shorts rode right up her delectable ass, and I leaned down, sinking my teeth into the tan flesh.

‘Alex!’ she squealed, wriggling against the bed. When I stood, I grinned at the red circle on her skin, marking her as mine.

‘Pretty girl, I needed to see a mark on you. Look how lovely it is…?’ Taking her by the hand, I stood her in front of the full-length mirror, her hips facing me, but her torso twisted so she could see. Trailing my fingers down her back, I watched her taking in the toothy circle.

‘I like it,’ she admitted.

‘Good girl, I love having my mark on you.’

‘Why?’ Her voice was breathy as she turned her face to look at me.

‘Because you're mine.’

A blush crept into her cheeks. ‘And are you mine?’

‘Devastatingly so.’

Without any warning, she sank her teeth into my neck, a flush of endorphins making my eyes close at the heady pain and pleasure mix. I gripped her ass as she bit down, sending sharp pain ricocheting through me.

‘Happy?’ I asked, when she broke away, admiring the circlet on my neck.

‘Ecstatic!’

I couldn’t help but laugh, trapping her against my chest and biting her neck, matching the mark she’d left on me. When she whimpered, I grew hard, still as eager as ever for her.

We walked hand in hand through the park, coats zipped high against the wet autumn chill. I held the umbrella above us in my other hand, marvelling at Francesca the entire time. Through paths and along bush lined walkways, under ancient trees and passing numerous dog walkers, similarly bolstered up against the weather.

I’d never walked in the rain on a Sunday morning pre-Frankie. I’d have rolled myself up like a bed-rot burrito and wasted the day. But with her, even the rain didn’t dampen my spirits. I’d follow her no matter what, and no matter where.

Thankfully, I knew exactly where she wanted that place to be.

She’d fallen for London the moment her feet touched the pavement. Yes, she’d come to learn from a renowned cake artist, but the city had snapped her up in all its mish-mash of style. It tugged at her, the way she tugged at me: with an all consuming obsession.

‘I hope they have fresh scones,’ Frankie said, half walking and half dragging me to the east end of the park, where the Pavilion Cafe sat. The paint peeled, and the seats wobbled, and it was rarely sat in by anyone other than us early on a Sunday. Most people picked up a coffee or tea to go while walking the dog. To be honest, it looked downright shabby. In need of some TLC.

‘Hopefully, a little burnt with heapings of cream.’ Frankie’s nose crinkled when she looked back at me like I’d grown two heads. I shrugged. I happened to like them a little crispy.

‘Heathen,’ she muttered, before bestowing me with a sunny smile, a raindrop dripping from her nose. I moved the umbrella further over her, trying to keep her excited self dry.

Rounding the corner, we saw the somewhat ramshackle pavilion come into view. As we got closer, Frankie noticed that it was shut, the door padlocked and a piece of white paper in the window.

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