Page 97 of The Crowned Garza
“Don’t do that.”
I pull back, meeting his eyes. “Hey, you know me. I use my words, always, and never flippantly. I’ll never just say things to feed your ego.” I caress his neck. “You can’t tell me you don’t know by now that I’m frickin’hotfor you. You only need tobreatheon me and I’m wet. No one makes me feel the things you make me feel.”
Unlike me, words do nothing for him. So he merely grunts and lifts me off the countertop, my limbs locking reflexively around him. He carries me upstairs and deposits me in the shower. Strips out of his now crumpled work clothes and gets in with me.
At the sight of his seed washing down my legs and then the drain, his words from earlier finally register through my lusty haze. Telling me he had my “records” was his way of saying he trusted entering me bare.
Every three months, without fail, I get a checkup. I’m super paranoid about STDs. This is the most reckless I’ve ever been. Granted, Saint is—um,was—a virgin, but only partially. He does other stuff, with who knows who.
There must be a frown on my face as I watch his cum swirl down the drain because he flattens his thumb between my eyebrows and assures me, “I’ve always been safe.”
Believing him, I nod. Honestly, I can’t picture himnotbeing safe. Not this man. “I’m on the pill.”
“I know.”
He lathers me, bathes me, then drops to his knees and licks me until I fall apart on his face.
By the time we emerge from the bathroom, his phone is going off nonstop.
He leaves the room butt naked and disappears down the hall. When he returns, he’s “Guy” again. Neat and crisp in a fresh ensemble.
A laugh spills out of me as I ask, “How many changes of clothes did you bring last night?”
“None.”
Huh?“Then where are you getting these clean, pressed outfits?”
“You should check all the rooms in your house regularly. I could be a parasite living in your closet.”
Before I can ask what he’s on about, he drops me a chaste kiss, tells me he has to go, and then he’s gone.
Lazily, I roll over on the bed and smile headily at the words that have been on a loop in my head ever since he whispered them to me…
“It was always going to be you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“It is a blessing.”
Tillie
TWO HOURS LATER, I’Mbeing punished in a workout session with Sunny when the doorbell rings.
Hallelujah!
“Gotta go, babe.” I peel up off the floor. “SeemsI’mthe popular one today.”
“Okay, but don’t forget to stretch your—”
I end the video call with the pretty little muscle murderer, then jog from the back patio into the house, wiping away sweat with my hand towel as I head to the front door.
At leastsomeoneknows how to ring the damn doorbell.
Two women, flawlessly pretty and dressed to the nines in designer garbs, stand on the other side of the door when I swing it open.
One is tall and lithe, with dusty brown hair, deep olive skin, and a snooty nose. The other one is short and buxom with a curly pixie cut.
“Hi!” the short one greets with a wide smile and an enthusiastic wave.
