Page 42 of Along Came Summer

“I wantyou.” I groan, sucking on her tongue. “So, fucking much.”

I’m done for. By the time we make it to her door, I’m almost all the way inside her, and her vaginal walls grip me like a vise making it impossible to think about anything but how desperately I want to be immersed inside her, to feel her climaxing and glut her tight little pussy with my cum.

I don’t recall who or how we opened the front door, but I vaguely remember her directing me toward her bedroom using one word between feral kisses. The apartment is dimly lit, with only a faint light coming in from the street outside. The furniture is shadowed and indistinct, but there is just enough space to navigate without bumping into anything.

Our bodies and lips don’t part, not even for a second while I lay her down on the bed and push all the way inside her. I’m wholly consumed with the burning need for her and how insanely good she feels wrapped around me. “Levi.” And how fucking incredible she sounds when moaning my name.

My body covers hers, and we’re pressed tightly together, moving in perfect harmony as our hands and lips explore each other. Summer’s lips are soft and fierce against mine, kissing me like I’m her lifeline, and she’s afraid she’ll suffocate if she stops even for a second.

God, her touch ignites an untameable fire within me; one I never want to extinguish. The sound of our ragged breathing and moans fills the room, along with the creaking of her bed under us as we move together, completely lost in the moment.

“Levi… oh yes, I’m coming!”

“Do you, Summer Lovey, take Levi King to be your lawfully wedded husband?” I look up into the meltingly soft chocolate-brown eyes of my groom, dressed in a tuxedo. I smile, and he smiles back at me handsomely. “To have and to hold in sickness and in health, till death do you part?”

“I do.” I answer without hesitation and Levi gives my hands that are clasped in his a gentle squeeze, his thumb caressing my knuckles affectionately.

“Levi King, do you take Summer Lovey to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold in sickness and in health till death do you part?” My heart races at an alarming rate while I wait for him to answer. Levi’s lips part and my eyes lower to watch those two words flow from his lips.

“I—”

“Summer!”

The sound of my name being screamed at an alarming volume startles me awake from a very pleasant dream. Is that… Nessa? I hear her footsteps pounding on the wooden floor of my bedroom as she rushes towards me, her voice laced with panic. “Summer, please, please don't be dead!” I struggle to open my eyes, feeling a sharp ache in my head. Eventually, I manage to pry them open and Nessa lets out a sigh of relief. Did she really think I was dead? “Sum?” she says, her tone still anxious.

“Stop yelling,” I whimper, burying my face into the pillow.

“Summer, I'm not yelling—wait, are you hungover?” Nessa asks, climbing onto my bed and sitting down next to me.

Am I? It's hard to tell. I've never been hungover before, and if I am now, I definitely don't like it. Why do people voluntarily subject themselves to this? It does not feel good. When all I can manage is a groan in response, Nessa snatches the pillow from under my head.

“Bloody hell, Summer, do you have any idea how worried I was?!”

“Ness…Ness, please can you dial down the volume a smidge? My brain feels like it's about to take off to the moon with that pitch.” I plead, rubbing my forehead as I roll onto my back.

“Sod your head; my heart almost fell out of my arse when I walked into the bakery at the arse crack of dawn and saw the state of it, and you were nowhere to be seen.” She explains and whacks my thigh. “I thought something happened to you, Summer. I thought someone broke in and kidnapped you!”

I stare at the ceiling, confused by the light shining through the window. Why is it bright out? And why am I in bed? Panic sets in, and I bolt up and look towards the window to see bright sunlight streaming through my curtains. My hungover brain takes a moment to catch up, and then it hits me.

“Oh my God,” I mumble in horror, shielding my eyes from the harsh sunlight and trying my best to ignore the way my stomach churns and my head throbs even more now I'm upright. “What... what time is it?” I rasp, wincing at how dry my mouth and throat feel.

I turn to Nessa, who has a dumbfounded expression on her face as she watches me. “Why are you... naked?”

My eyes follow hers down to my bare chest, and I gasp with realisation. In a panic, I lift back the covers and see that I'm completely naked down there, too. My gaze veers over to the digital LED clock on my nightstand, and my eyes almost bulge out of their sockets.

“It’s seven forty…” I gasp, pressing my hands to my head. The bakery, I didn’t prep the pastries or… oh my God. I get flashes of the not-so-PG activities from the night before. I must have forgotten to set my alarm before I fell asleep.

Holy crap!

“The bakery,” Whipping the covers off me, I crawl out of the bed as best and modestly as I can, given the sledgehammer pounding in my skull and well, my nakedness. “I didn’t prep anything, Ness, I didn’t open the freaking bakery!”

“Summer,” I hear Nessa calling out to me while I rush over to my wardrobe to the left of my bedroom and almost trip over my silver open-toe shoe. I scowl at it for a second when I get flashes of Levi taking it off, his eyes on mine and his lips pressed against my ankle.

“Summer, whoa, whoa, hey calm down—”

“Calm down?” I reiterate hurriedly while pulling out a pair of white denim shorts and attempting to pull them on. “It’s almost eight o’clock, and nothing is done, nothing is prepped, the bakery isn’t open, Ness I’ve missed the morning rus—”

“Summer, hey, Sum, take a beat, all right. You are absolutely in no fit state to work right now. We just won’t open today, or we open later. It’s not the end of the world. It’s your shop, you’re the boss, you’re allowed to take a sick day, babe, all right?” She’s right; I feel like death, and I’m sure I’m going to hurl. I can feel what little I have in my stomach working its way up to my throat, but I don’t miss a day. I open six days a week and have done since I opened the bakery. I don’t get sick days.

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