Page 76 of South of The Skyway

“Come, Brexley. Now, baby.”

That did it. Right there. He didn’t just knock me over the edge, he shoved me off the cliff. Pleasure exploded through me, the release ripping from my body. Vaguely I heard his mouth pouring praise, words likeperfect, words likemineandbeautifulandmore.

I was drowning in an agony of desire and pleasure that so nearly bordered on pain, so intimately intertwined with relief. Rhyett groaned as he thrust home, as deep as he could go as he hit the back of me. It was the way he threw his head back, mouth parted soundlessly, that told me he’d cum inside me.

Dating in your mid-twenties felt a lot like watching reruns of a shitty sitcom—the same shit in a new package. Except Rhyett had just taken and given me a first I’d never so much as thought of with anyone else. And as he shakily lowered me to my feet, my useless legs buckling and pouring my body into his strong arms, I realized how deeply grateful I was that it had been him to take that finalfirst.

THIRTY-FOUR

RHYETT

“I thought that retrievers were supposed to…retrieve,” I said, stifling a smile. Royal had discovered a comical love of the rabbits that ran free throughout the property, treating them like orphans rather than prey. Brexley was gaping, a furrow between her golden brows, as her loyal companion rolled in the grass between three rodent friends before curling up with them.

“What in the fuck kind of dog is that?” she balked, blinking pointedly at our momentary distraction. I lost my battle with laughter.

A quick meal later, we’d since christened every solid surface in the trailer. My favorite moment was when we finally made it back to my bed, and she collapsed, satiated at last. That sleepy, satisfied curl of her lips was enough to send a man to his grave happy.

The subsequent cuddles, coos, and caresses? The icing on the fucking cake. Tracing the pale curve of her tight ass, I hummed contentedly. I’d never experienced this kind of connection with sex. One where I just couldn’t get enough. Couldn’t touch, feel, or taste adequate amounts of flesh. A tiny whimper sounded in her chest, making my raw cock jerk to attention.Holy fuck, down boy.

Admittedly, her ass looked fucking delectable. Bare breasts pale in the moonlight, Brexley’s lean form spilled across my mattress. Golden hair askew in a halo around her face. The woman even slept temptingly.

Royal whined softly, like she had sporadically since we drug her inside, away from the bunnies.

“Freaking weirdo,” I grumbled, shaking my head. She whined again before crawling under the bed. It was dark enough under there for her to feel denned in, so that was something, at least. What in the hell kind of dog befriended rabbits?

Snuggling in tighter around Brexley’s sleeping form, I ran feather-light touches up and down her side. The ensuing purr was priceless. I fell asleep connecting the angles on her body.

* * *

The smellof coffee greeted me. Along with the rhythmic tapping of keys, I noted with no shortage of intrigue. She was writing.Actually writing. She’d been stuck in a pit of frustration for days as we rotated between her place and mine. The evasive ‘flow state’, she called it. The lines between her brows were back, as was the complex set of her jaw, yet it was the speed at which her fingers moved that made me smile the widest. I scrubbed a palm over my face before moving to the kitchen island, pouring myself the remainder of the coffee from the French press and turning to make more.

“Morning, Ace.”

“Morning, Hotshot.” Baby blues flitted to me and then back to her screen. Managing to sip on the black cup of coffee without gagging, I wandered to her side, peering at the words hammering out stroke by stroke. A brief hesitation caught my attention before she typed,Rhyett Rhodes, you freaking snoop, you are mouthwatering with those gray sweats slung around your hips.

I burst out laughing, shimmying said sweats a bit lower, hoping to draw her attention away from the electronic device. “Slung around my hips, huh?”

“That’s how a writer would say it.”

“Then that’s how you shall say it.” She took a heartbeat to lean into my chest before returning to her frantic tapping. “So,” I hedged, “how’s it going?”

“One. Never interrupt a writer mid-flow. Two.” She sighed. I was still learning her noises, her levels of contentment. But at least to me, it sounded good. “It’s going really well, surprisingly. It’s like all the things I’ve wanted to say in the last ten years were just filed and waiting.”

“Good. Sounds like you're writing away.”

“Rhyett, I’ve been up since five. And I’ve penned ten-thousand words.”

“I’m a little hung up on the first part, Ace.” I tapped my phone on the counter beside us and scowled. “You’ve been up for three and a half hours without waking me?”

“It just started pouring out.” She turned her palms up to the ceiling as if to tell me she didn’t understand how.

“I take it ten-thousand is a lot?”

“Seeing as I’ve not attempted more than a few hundred since high school? Hell yeah.”

“Well, good. I’ll go back to not bothering you, then. You going into the shop?”

She grimaced, setting her hands in her lap. “I should. I know I should.”

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