Page 47 of Wait With Me
“Do you want to come back to bed so I can show you some more magic?” I waggle my brows at her suggestively.
She bites her lip and looks down at her computer, clearly warring with herself over what’s more important. Apparently, it’s a quick inner conversation because, in a flash, she sets down her laptop and jumps on top of me.
I laugh and roll us so that I’m on top, between her legs, nibbling at her neck and pushing her shirt up so I can feel her naked thighs all around me. “I think waking up hard is going to be a constant with you,” I murmur, biting her nipple through my shirt.
She squeals and wriggles against my groin. “I’m super okay with that.”
With all the wiggling she’s doing, the tip of my dick connects with her center. She’s wet and warm, and fucking hell, the direct skin-on-skin contact has me groaning. I press my face into her neck and groan, “Fuck, you feel so damn good.”
“You too,” she states, her hips pulsing up toward me, trying to take me inside her more.
“Babe, stop,” I moan, sliding my forehead to her shoulder, my breath trembling with need. “I have to get a condom.”
She whines out a little-frustrated noise as I move off her and grab my wallet off the end table. I lay on my back and roll the rubber on, feeling her eyes on me the whole time. “This is my last one, so no morning sex for you.”
“This is morning,” she retorts, propping herself on her elbows so she can get a better view.
“No breakfast sex for you, then,” I correct.
She laughs. “That’s okay. You’ll be too busy chewing your arm off anyway.”
I growl at her smart mouth and roll back on top of her, tossing one of her legs up on my shoulder as I do. I press my now wrapped tip inside her and husk, “I think we’re well past the arm chewing stage, don’t you?”
When I thrust into her, this angle allowing me so far in, she cries out as my cock nearly kisses her cervix. Her fingers bite into my arms. “Jesus, Miles!”
“That’s right, babe, let me hear you this time.” I drop my head to her chest and nibble at her T-shirt covered breasts. I should have taken the time to rip that off, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
Her voice is hoarse when she replies, “You are so deep. This is so intense. I’m not sure I can—”
“You can,” I encourage, driving into her slow and hard. Deep and long. My ass popping back and forth with every thrust. “You can take me.”
“Oh God,” she mewls, her other leg tightening around my hip, her heel digging into my lower back. “This is incredible.”
“You’re damn fucking right it is,” I reply and realize with a sudden jolt that it’s not like this with everyone. I’ve slept with at least a dozen women since my split with Joce, and no one has come even close to feeling this good wrapped around my dick. Not even Joce.
I increase the speed of my movements, trying to chase my wayward thoughts away and relish this sweet, sweet fucking I’m in the middle of. Between the wet, erotic noises of our breaths and the plethora of moans and grunts and pants filling the room, we’re creating the best goddamn soundtrack to fucking I’ve ever heard.
Mercedes bucks beneath me, meeting me thrust for thrust. Growing quieter and quieter as she climbs along with me. We’re in sync. Perfect, liberating sync.
She wraps her hands around my neck and presses her face against mine, crying out her orgasm right into my ear. It’s a mixture of gasps and strangled breaths. It’s otherworldly sounding. It makes no fucking sense, but my dick likes it, and with one final burst of energy, I’m following her, blowing inside the condom and knowing there’s no way in fucking hell I’m not sticking around for pancakes with this girl.
Istride into the Rise and Shine Bakery, the cute spot on Broadway down the street from Dean’s downtown co-working space. The smell of fresh donuts and coffee make my tummy growl excitedly as I head to the counter to order two croinuts. Croinuts are a croissant and a donut combination that this Boulder bakery is nationally famous for. A buttery and savory yet sweet and flaky combination that is basically like an orgasm in a carb.
The adorable little blonde behind the register smiles brightly and replies, “You’ll have to take a number, I’m afraid. Our next batch isn’t due out for another hour and a half. Are you planning to be here a while?”
“Yes, I have no problem waiting,” I reply, clutching my satchel to my shoulder in confirmation.
She points at the little number machine that literally spits out a paper sheet with a number, so I give it a tug. I pay for two coffees and a brownie appetizer and move to find a table to wait for Dean.
Dean and I usually try to meet here once a week to catch up and check in on each other. This was the place where he asked me for advice on how to tell Lynsey he only wanted to be friends. They’d only been dating for a month or two, but he said that the more he got to know her, the more he looked at her like a sister instead of a woman he wanted to sleep with.
On the other end, I was getting panic-stricken texts from Lynsey saying Dean still wasn’t coming on to her and what should she do so he would just man up and fuck her already?
The two of them parting ways, at least romantically, was definitely for the best. They were way too similar. I was just grateful they were able to actually continue their friendship. It took a little time, more so on Lynsey’s part than on Dean’s, but now it’s almost like it never happened.
Ever since then, this bakery has become my sacred place with Dean. And it’s the only spot in town I don’t balk at spending $5.79 for a cup of coffee. Because…croinuts.
I make my way over to a dark red booth by the picture window that overlooks Broadway Street. I slide open my phone and see I missed a text from Miles.
