Page 90 of Drilled (Dad Bod Contracting 2)
After a too-brief eternity, it’s over and I collapse onto him, and I feel his breath ragged on my scalp, and his heart beating wildly in his chest.
I lay on him, and he holds me, and we’re content like that for who knows how long.
Eventually, I lift up, prop my elbows on his chest, and gaze at him. “Clean me, feed me, and fuck me again, in that order.”
He rumbles a laugh. “How about we take a shower together and I take care of two of the three at the same time?”
“Oh, I was planning on that,” I say, smirking. “I’ll just need you all over again as soon as we’re done eating.”
“How long can we stay in this condo?” Franco asks.
“I have to be back for work day after tomorrow.”
“Good, so we have all of today and most of tomorrow to stay in bed?”
“And then, when we’re home, we can take turns between my place and yours, fucking until we’re exhausted.”
He cups my face in his palm. “Audra…this isn’t fucking anymore, and we both know it.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Do we have to call it that other thing? Can’t we call it something different?”
“Yeah, we can, but just once we need to acknowledge, out loud, what this is.”
I huff, pretending to be irritated by his insistence. “Fine.” I kiss his lips again, a quick peck. “Franco, carry me into the shower and make love to me up against the wall.”
He rolls out of bed with me in his arms, getting to his feet without putting me down, carries me into the bathroom and sets me on the closed toilet seat lid. Turns on the shower, and then bends over me and kisses me as the water runs hot.
We don’t make love in the shower, though.
We take turns washing each other clean, rinsing off, and then I press him up against the wall and sink to my knees and…well, I make love him with my mouth. Slowly. I grasp his hips and use only my tongue and mouth, and I take so long the water runs lukewarm, and I swallow every last drop of him and wash him all over again…and then he carries me into the bedroom, throws me, dripping wet, onto the bed, pulls me to the edge, goes to his knees, and makes love to me with his mouth in return, making me scream and thrash and come so many times I lose count.
And then, clean, momentarily sated, we spend hours eating and talking and watching Netflix, and then we go out to the beach and swim and tease each other with dirty words and promises, and then he takes me to dinner and plies me with wine and sweet words and sweeter promises, and we spend the whole night through making good on every single one of those promises.
We don’t come up for air until well past dawn the next day, and then we sleep till afternoon, only to wake up and do it all over again until we have to scramble, flustered and smelling of sex, to the airport to catch our flight home.
Unbeknownst to me, Imogen had conspired with Jesse to change my return flight home so Franco and I could sit together. I spend the entire trip, including the layover, passed out on Franco’s shoulder.
Hours later, I stumble bleary-eyed and bedraggled to Franco’s truck, and fall promptly asleep on the drive home. Which becomes a true drive home, as he takes me to his place.
He carries me in to his room and cradles me in his arms in his bed.
I wake up as he climbs in behind me.
I twist, blinking sleepily at him over my shoulder. “Hey, Franco?”
He smiles at me, a tired curve of his lips. “Yeah, babe?”
“I don’t think I’ve said this yet, but…I’m in love with you.”
He twists me so I’m on my side, facing him, chin against his chest and gazing up at him. “Audra, I am so hopelessly in love with you it’s actually kind of stupid.”
“You’re stupid for me?”
He nods. “Completely.”
A long silence; neither of us fall asleep, and I can feel Franco thinking.
I nip at his chest with my teeth, playfully. “Say whatever you’re thinking, Franco.”
“You’re sure? It’s kind of crazy.”
“Hit me with all of your crazy.”
“Sell your condo. Live here with me.” I don’t answer for a long time, and I feel Franco getting antsy. “Too soon?”
I shake my head. “No, not too soon.” I smirk up at him. “While you were sleeping on the flight from Atlanta, I emailed a friend who’s a realtor.”
He blinks. “You did? Why?”
“To tell him I’m interested in listing it.”
He blinks again. “You…did?”
I laugh. “There’s an open house in two weeks.” I hesitate. “My realtor anticipates it selling in a matter of days.”
He sighs and laughs at the same time. “You knew I’d ask.”
