Page 130 of Ruin Me With Lies
“It’s just Italian ranch dressing,” he mutters, already kissing down my body.“‘Cause I’m about to eat you out and lick you clean.”
“Oh, jeez, no.”I reach down to stop him.“I’m not the multiple-orgasm-at-once kind of girl.I have to take breaks in between.”
Especially after an orgasm of that magnitude.
The look on his face is a cross between a pout and a scowl.“What do you mean bybreak?”
“At least twenty minutes.”
He looks so put out right now that I have to bite back a laugh.Running my fingers through his hair, I say, “Hey.Ilovesex.And I love itbecauseI make sure that if I’m doing it, I’m enjoying it.Otherwise, what’s the point?”
He just watches me.
“You’ll always know if something doesn’t work for me,” I add.“Because I’lltellyou.I know my body.And I want you to know it, too.”
After several beats of just gazing at me, his eyes soften with something indecipherable.He brushes a kiss across my stomach, then shifts back and scoops me up off the couch.
“Well then,” he mutters, carrying me off.“Let’s not stain the couch.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Raya
STREAKS OF PLEASURE RIPPLEunder my skin, pulling me from the depths of sleep.
A moan in my throat, I hazily blink awake to the sight of Stefano crouched beside the lounge chair I’m curled up on, fondling my breasts.Pressing them together, kissing them, tonguing my nipples.Just having his own private feast with the girls.
When his gaze flicks up and finds me awake, he flashes a smug, satisfactory smile and gently tucks them back into my dress.
“No,” I protest with a pout.“I was enjoying that.”
“Just wanted to wake you,” he replies.“Felt lonely.I napped for thirty minutes.You’vebeen out for almost two hours.”
I reach up and scratch at the low scruff of his beard.“So needy.”
After our little couch romp earlier, he carried me upstairs and we showered together.Messy, teasing, far too long.Then his phone started blowing up again.
With nothing to do while he took his calls, I wandered out to the pool area and fell asleep watching the rain beat down on the skylights.
“That I am,” he admits, unapologetic.“Come have dinner with me.”
He doesn’t wait for a response.He straightens, scoops me right up off the lounge chair, and carries me through the house like I weigh nothing.
In the kitchen, he sets me down on a stool by the breakfast bar, which is already set with plates, cutlery, and a compact buffet warmer partitioned with mouthwatering hot dishes.
My gluttonous appetite perks up.“Where did this come from?”
He gestures to a tall hot box parked at the end of the back counter.
That was there all this time?How did I miss it?
“Cora?”I ask with a smile.
“She wanted to make sure you were fed,” he replies.“We heard from the Pink House that you’re banned from using the kitchen for almost burning it down when you tried to cook.”
A laugh bursts out of me.Damn, they really narced on me like that?But…fair.Iama disaster in the kitchen.Which is why I appreciate a well-cooked meal so much.
Side-eying him, I ask, “Canyoucook?”
