Page 18 of Bingeworthy
I reach back and cup his balls, squeezing. Rocco’s eyes roll back in his head. He thrusts hard, lifting us both off the mattress with shocking strength.
The only thing keeping me from collapsing on top of him is his hands holding me up.
“Touch yourself while I fuck you,” he says, breathless. I do as he says, aware I’m on display for him as I pinch one nipple with one hand and reach down to stroke my clit with the other.
His eyes are black as he watches me. As he bounces me on him.
And when he comes, all of our walls shatter together.
“You’re mine!” he roars, his body trembling under me.
Another release takes hold of me, and a second later, I’m on my back.
His broad, golden body is over me, and I sigh.
“Say it,” he seethes, still buried deep inside.
“I’m yours.”
“And who am I, Tiffany?’
“M-mine?”
He nods, kissing me solemnly. “And we’re not going to hide this, are we?”
I shake my head.
“And we’re going to say it was all my idea, to teach the meddlers a lesson,” he laughs.
I shiver in his arms. From release, from laughter, and from excitement for whatever comes next.
Chapter Eight
“Ican’t believe you guys missed the pumpkin pie,” Jen says as the family gathers for the Friday afternoon karaoke tournament.
Rocco and I are cozy on the patio sofa. We spent the whole of last night together and most of today.
“Yeah, where have you two been?” Jill asks, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.
“Shut it, sister,” I say. Rocco’s arm is wrapped around my shoulders, and he adjusts my shawl against the cold and warms my temple with a kiss.
Mom and Dad look at each other conspiratorially. Yes, they are taking full credit for pushing us together.They can have it. I’m lucky to have parents who care this much about my happiness.
Dad fires up the karaoke machine and announces on the mic, “Remember, guys, it’s showtunes only.”
A chorus of “We know!” rings out across the expansive deck as Uncle Ricky and Aunt Beth grab the mics. They kick off the evening with their rendition of a favorite love song from West Side Story.
Just then, the phone in my pocket rings. I look at the screen to see who’s calling, and my entire mood changes.The wind is cold as I step off the deck, out of earshot, and Rocco follows me, wrapping a blanket over the shawl as I answer the phone.
The woman on the phone is Debbie from human resources.“We reviewed your file today, and it turns out you were wrongly let go. Although you received a previous verbal warning, protocol requires a written warning before termination. The company has a three-strikes policy that wasn’t followed.”
Well, it’s nice to be vindicated on that score. “Okay, so what does that mean for me?”
Debbie tells me I can either have my job back or receive six months’ severance. I bite my lip and look at Rocco. “I’ll get back to you first thing Monday.”
I hang up and tell Rocco everything.
“You’re taking the six months, right?” Rocco asks.
