Page 239 of Love in Riverbend
He helps me roll, until I’m on my back.
“I can take that,” I offer.
Ricky shakes his head. “I’m responsible for that tight pussy being sore. I can take care of it.”
Warmth fills my cheeks.
“Don’t get all shy on me, Marilyn. Seconds before my cock was deep inside you, you were talking to make a sailor blush. I believe you said something about me doing something with my massive cock. I hope you weren’t disappointed.”
The entire time he’s talking, he’s tending to my mound, washing away my essence.
“You’ve improved,” I say with a grin.
“It’s really not fair to judge someone during your first time.”
That fact brings back my unsettled feelings about our first time. “I knew you knew,” I say, sitting up against the headboard.
Ricky tosses the washcloth onto the carpet and sits at my side. We’re both completely nude as he pulls the sheet to our waists. I lift it to cover my breasts.
“You didn’t tell me,” he says, reaching for my hand and intertwining our fingers. “And when I realized, I freaked out.”
A nod is my only response.
“I’m sorry. It was an important thing for you, and I treated it…” He exhales. “I’m not sure what I did. I ran scared.” He lifts my hand and brings my knuckles to his lips. “I’m here now, if that counts for anything.”
“You don’t have to apologize any more. It’s easier to hate you than to have you be nice.”
“I don’t want you to hate me.”
“It’s okay,” I say, raising my shields. “Tonight was our celebration. No more and no less.” I take a deep breath. “You can go if you want.”
The shine in his brown eyes dims. “You don’t trust me, and honestly, you have every reason not to. I’d like to stay. I have somewhere to be in the morning, but if you’ll have me, I’ll stay the night.”
“I can get you blankets for the couch.”
He lifts my hand and begins kissing, up to my elbow, to my shoulder, to the sensitive skin of my neck. With each flutter of kisses, goose bumps scatter in their wake. “I’d like to stay in your bed.”
“I heard you snore.”
Ricky grins. “That’s hearsay, but you can let me know in the morning.”
The childish dreams of my inner teenager spark to life as Ricky wraps his strong arm around me, pulling me close and cradling my head on his hard shoulder. I tell myself it’s not real. Ricky Dunn is just making up for what he did before.
Yet as his breathing evens and I find myself running my fingers over his wide chest and six-pack, the dreams of the teenager I once was seem real. It is almost as if I can touch him, sense my sore and satisfied core, and inhale his masculine scent.
I wake in a fog, the stiffness in my muscles reminding me of what Ricky and I did last night. A smile curls my lips at the memories of him at the dinner and the research and development Mr. Stevens discussed. I turn to my side, only to find the bed empty. A brush of the sheets tells me it’s also cold.
Familiar uncertainty bubbles to life in my chest, reminding me that dreams don’t come true. Not in real life. It isn’t until I’m in the bathroom that I hear noises coming from the other end of my apartment.
Wearing panties and my short robe, I cautiously make my way toward the kitchen. The aroma of coffee beckons me.
I stop in the doorway, taking in the specimen of a man tending to something that smells like bacon on my stove. He’s wearing low-riding blue jeans and no shirt as the meat in the frying pan spits and splatters. His hair is mused with a sexy bed head look, and his cheeks have more than their normal trimmed beard growth.
Crossing my arms over my breasts, I smirk.
Ricky turns, seeing me. “You are so fucking hot in that robe.”
His compliment warms me from my head to my toes.
