Page 101 of Craving Francesca

Fifteen minutes later, I was carrying her bag over my shoulder as I led her into our room.

“No table this time,” she said, setting the sandwiches we’d picked up on the bed.

“Fuck of a lot nicer, though,” I countered, letting the door swing shut.

“Don’t you miss the antlers?” she joked.

“They did add a little something.”

She ran to the bathroom as I arranged our food, and when she came out, she was in nothing but a pair of panties and the tank top we’d had to search the bedding for that morning. She sat down cross-legged on the other side of the bed and reached for her sandwich.

“Good day?” I asked, watching her.

“Great day,” she said with a sigh.

“Good.”

“How about you?” she asked, pausing with her sandwich an inch away from her mouth. “On a scale of one to ten.”

“Eleven.”

We barely made it through our food before she was stripped naked, and we were making good use of the king-size bed. Her nipples were red as berries from my mouth, the hair along the back of her neck was damp with sweat, and her pussy was dripping by the time she rolled a condom on and took me inside. I gripped her hips and stared at her round ass as she bounced on top of me, rolling her hips and gasping. When she came, her back arched so far that her hair brushed over my nipples. I came seconds later.

She pulled away, and I let my hands drift down her thighs.

“Shit, we made a mess,” she said with a breathless laugh, reaching for the wrappers that we’d shoved to the side of the bed.

I took care of the condom and helped her get rid of the rest of the trash, then held the blankets back so she could climb between the sheets. As soon as I’d laid down beside her, she rolled into me, laying her head on my shoulder.

“Thank you for today,” she murmured sleepily.

“San Francisco tomorrow?” I asked, running my fingers up and down her spine. Her skin was so fucking soft.

“Yeah, but just a drive-through,” she replied, her thumb tracing my nipple. “I want to keep going, don’t you?”

“Works for me.”

“I didn’t ever really travel as a kid,” she said softly. “Did you?”

“A bit,” I replied. “Went down to Sacramento once a year. Hit Disneyland a couple of times. Once, the whole family all went up to Yellowstone and then sent all of us kids home with Aunt Cecilia so the rest of the adults could go to Sturgis.”

Frankie chuckled. “We camped during the summer, but only on the weekends and never somewhere that you had to pay.”

“We did quite a bit of that, too.”

“I didn’t really see anything outside Eugene until I went to college, and we started traveling to shows and stuff.” She sighed. “And then my dad moved to Arizona like it was nothing, after never leaving the state my entire life.”

“Snowbird?”

“No, his wife’s sister lives down there. They live there full time.”

“That must’ve sucked, havin’ him move so far away.”

“Not really.” She shrugged. “It didn’t really make a difference actually. It wasn’t like I saw him a ton anyway.”

“He ever come back to visit?”

Frankie huffed. “I mean, not so far—but I’m holding out hope.”

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