Page 27 of Ella Gets the D
We remain in each other’s embrace, lost in the bliss of our bodies finding pleasure. His mouth searches for mine, dotting slow kisses until he reaches his destination. The kiss we share is a soft reclamation of the intimacy shared between two lovers in the moonlight.
This is what my body needed. It reignited and set free what was lost in the ashes. The aftershock of his touch spreads in a steady hum. I don’t want the night to end, and I burrow deeper into the muscular frame that made me feel again.
Wanted.
Adored.
Cherished.
I sigh into the scent of cedar and sandalwood. When I wake, the carriage will turn back into a pumpkin. I’ll be a newly single mom again, on a quest to untether herself from an ex who doesn’t deserve her presence or her shadow. I love my children—adorethem—but I can’t recall a night when someone took care of me and satisfied my desires.
I’m not ready for love or a relationship, but dangit if I don’t want my toes to curl while I climax like I did tonight. A man like this could only come from my dreams.
It’s a manifestation.
One that doesn’t disappear when I finally open my eyes.
Chapter 11
Julian
There are only a handful of times in my life when my nuts have retracted so far up, I prayed they wouldn’t get stuck. None involved a woman in my dream who turned out to be real. Not until tonight.
“What the f—”
“Get off me!”
She pushes at my chest at the same time I roll off her, our screams tangling like the bedsheet between our half-naked bodies. I flip off one end of the bed and land on the floor with a thud. Her dismount is less graceful.
Arms and legs flail in the streams of moonlight that pierce the darkness from the bay window. “Did you follow me from Charly’s?”
“Never heard of it, and this ismybed!”
The figure, a faceless apparition wrapped in Egyptian cotton, rises and takes labored breaths. My dick swells at the silhouette of heavy breasts and round hips, hips I gripped only minutes ago. My other head—the one that’s watched too many horror movies—freaks the fuck out.
It takes a second and a creative string of curse words before she frees herself. I turn on a nearby light and meet dark brown eyes and narrowed brows. My dick is now at full attention. Thick black hair unfurls from the leopard print silk scarf she used to wrap her edges, which now look like she wrestled a bear.
She’s breathtaking.
“Ow! What the fuck?!” Pain lances through my cheek. “Did you throw your phone at my face?” I wince. This shit is as uncomfortable as my cum-stained basketball shorts pasted to my leg.
She cups a hand to her mouth like her own audacity surprised her and takes a step back toward the bathroom. Her eyes land on the vinyl records on top of the dresser, and I catch a glimpse of the debate to chuck them at my head. For her sake, she better not. I’ll sue her ass for messing with Duke Ellington and John Coltrane. We’re already at breaking and entering and battery as it is.
I open my mouth, but the words still at the sight of her honey-tan breast hanging out of her lopsided nightgown. Damn, she’s gorgeous. So is her breast, one I teased with my tongue.
Her mouth moves at lightning speed, but I don’t hear a word because of the titty. She’s so caught up in trying to land a plane with her hand gestures, she misses my motioning to said titty.
“I’m waiting!” Her hand finds a home on the curve of her hip.
“Could you”—I drop my eyes and point in her direction—“cover up? You have amazing breasts, but—”
A crash mixes with a scream in her sprint to the bathroom. “Could this night get any worse?” Her yell travels through quick, shallow breaths.
I rub the back of my neck in a failed attempt to ease the stress radiating from my temples and the side of my face that has a phone imprint.
Why the hell did I go to Nate’s bar after an eight-hour flight from London? It’s a rhetorical question. No matter how the long work week—sixty hours, in this case—Swigs to visit bro is the first stop when I get back to the States.
Exhaustion and wings doused in Mumbo sauce sums up last night. The bar, a neighborhood spot in the quiet part of Georgetown, had a steady flow of customers but a calm vibe. I kept Nate company with a glass of bourbon he never allowed to reach half empty and a mound of fried food he keeps on hand for my return. We caught each other up on the last several months before I realized it was two in the morning.
