Page 70 of The Hero + Vegas = No Regrets

He reaches around me, lifts me up onto the kitchen island, and strips off my panties, my bare ass cheeks on the cool marble counter.

“You’re beautiful,” he says as he kneels before me, opening my knees wide. He presses his tongue against my folds and I whimper. His breath is hot on my sex, his fingers digging into the flesh of my thighs. He dips and licks, circles and flicks his tongue like it’s his job. He’s CEO of whatever he’s doing, that’s for sure.

I can barely keep myself upright. I put one arm back, laying my palm behind me to stop myself from falling. I use my other hand to thread my fingers through his hair. Feeling his head move as he feasts on me is too much. He knows exactly my weak spots. He understands how to make me moan, how to make me want more, how to undo me.

The scrub of his beard grazes my skin, adding a slice of sour to the sweet of his tongue. I jolt, forcing myself forward, pressing myself against him.

More. More. More.

It’s the call of my body and mind. I just can’t get enough of him. It shouldn’t be possible to feel this connected to another person. To feel so worshipped. Savored. Loved.

My body starts to shake and he slides his fingers into me. My head falls back, and I resign myself to the way my orgasm is creeping over me. I have no control. My body is completely his.My back arches and I call out. My arm gives out and I collapse backwards onto the counter.

He stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re fucking delicious,” he growls. “So fucking wet for me. But now I want to feel you around my cock.”

His voice has a ragged tone to it, like he’s only inches away from losing control. I’m grateful that it’s not just me who feels so helpless when we’re together like this.

I slide off the counter, turn, spread my legs and lay my torso onto the cool marble.

I want him to feel me. I want him to take me. I want him to have all of me.

“Fuuuck,” he growls. I hear the clinking of his belt buckle and the tear of the condom wrapper. He presses his hand on the small of my back, holding me in place.

This time, he doesn’t inch in slowly, but I know it’s not because he’s being inconsiderate. He knows how ready for him I am. I don’t want to wait a second longer.

TWENTY-FIVE

Sophia

The smell of something butter and vanilla wafts into my bedroom as I pull on my jeans. If Oliver’s trying to cook, he’s going to burn down the entire building. I grab a sweater and head out.

I poke my head into the kitchen and find Noah over the stove.

“I’m making pancakes,” he says.

“You are?” I ask. “I don’t have ingredients for pancakes.”

“But you have a store on the corner that does.”

“I do?” I start to laugh, and Noah grins.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever been to your apartment before,” he says.

“You live in Cincinnati,” I say.

“It’s nice,” he adds.

I can’t remember the last time I spent time with Noah without Mom around. She was always the central point that we’d all circle.

“Thanks. It’s a rental. And Jules is still paying rent. At some point, I guess I’ll have to find something else.” Then I think about Worth. He’d have us living together. It’s weird, becauseif I’d just started dating someone and we liked each other a whole lot, I might consider moving in together if my lease was up or something. But with Worth it feels different somehow. Like it would be a lifetime commitment instead of it being about sharing utilities.

“Maybe you could get another roommate,” he says. “What about that guy you came to Cincinnati with on Thanksgiving?”

“Not sure he’d want to room with me here.” But if I asked him to, he probably would. “Where’s Oliver?” I ask, keen to change the subject from Worth.

“Running. He’ll be back in a minute.”

“So what are we going to do today? Go to a museum or something?”

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