Page 105 of The Invitation
“What?” I ask. “You’re not going to get all weird on me, are you?”
He smiles. “I just can’t believe this is real.”
I let my knees fall to the sides, giving him a view of my pussy. “Can you come to terms with it while you’re deep inside me? Because I really want to feel your cock.”
He laughs, peeling off his shirt. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Are you complaining?”
He jumps on the bed, covering my body with his. He presses a kiss to my lips and then grins.
“Condom?” he asks.
“Is there anything I need to know about your medical history?”
“No. And I have a report dated last month, if you’d like to review it.”
I lift my hips. “What I’d like is for you to put your cock inside—oh, fuck.”
I don’t get to say another word. He fucks them right out of me.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Georgia
I curlup on a chair in Ripley’s living room with Waffles on my lap. The T-shirt I found in Ripley’s closet swamps me, since I don’t know where most of my clothes from last night wound up, but I couldn’t risk coming downstairs naked.
Does he have visitors that barge in? One of his brothers? A housekeeper? Cameras?
I have no idea.
The sun peeks up over the horizon, splattering the sky with the softest, prettiest oranges and pinks. It’s a beautiful sunrise after an amazing night.
So why did I wake up feeling nervous?
Because it’s going too well.
Detaching myself from Ripley was hard, but being alone with my thoughts was harder. I’m my own worst enemy sometimes, as ironic as that is. My fear ismy problem, and he certainly hasn’t given me a reason to question him since our soul-baring conversation where we shared our truths.
Still, fear is real, and my insecurities don’t help anything.
I turn on my phone camera and look at myself. My lips are swollen, my eyes are tired, and my hair a mess. I look like I’ve been fucked. But I need to record a confessional because I didn’t do it after our filming session last night—a date consisting of playing with Waffles.
I actually think the footage might be the best we’ve done yet.
“Waffles, buddy, I wish I had a filter because I look like shit.”
He doesn’t even open his eyes.
“Typical man.”
I take a deep breath and hope I remember the kind of questions Myla wants us to answer. Then I open the video app and press record.
“Hey,” I say softly, holding the phone up to get my best angle. “It’s morning. I wound up staying overnight last night. I know, I know. Don’t judge me. He can be very persuasive.”
I scratch Waffles’s head just behind his ears.
“This was a curveball that I didn’t see coming,” I admit. “Things have been obviously going well between us, but I’m not the kind of girl who stays all night with a guy this quickly.” I chuckle. “That’s what all the girls say, though, right?”
