Page 70 of Honeymoon Phase
But irritating reality pinpricks my mind, and I realize that if I want this to be more... I need to take this slow. She’s not here with me yet, but I can see glimmers of her getting there. And I know that if I push her too hard and too fast, she’s going to run.
This is a marathon, not a sprint. My feelings have been alive and well for a while now, but this is all new to Roe. She isn’t there yet and I need to give her time becausefuckdo I want her to be here with me.
I pull back, my cock weeping against my zipper as I stare at her slackened body shoved up against the wall like my own personal plaything.
“What are you doing?” she asks, out of breath.
I swallow the knot in my throat. “I gave you my first kiss... and now I’m going to bed.”
“You’re what?” she gasps, her lips and neck raw from my whiskers. God I love that look on her.
I lick my lips and point to her door. “You should be a good girl and go to bed too.”
She huffs out a weak laugh, her brows pinched in confusion. “What if I don’t want to be a good girl?”
I close my eyes and shake my head. “Go to bed, Addison.”
She stares at me for a long, heavy moment. I don’t often use her first name with her, so she knows I mean business and she doesn’t seem to like it. Shoving a hand through her hair, she pries herself off the wall and turns unsteadily, gripping her doorframe for a moment before peering back over her shoulder at me.
“Good night, husband.” She stares back at me, daring me tocome after her. Daring me to change my mind and eliminate the space between us and take her in her fucking bed.
But I am the patron saint of idiots, so I stay exactly where I am. “Good night, wife.”
With a soft sigh, she closes the door and disappears from my sight, and I thump my head back against the wall behind me, hating myself more than I ever have in my entire life.
Chapter 22
Fact or Fiction?
My vibrator is judging me.
Addison
“Luke,” I whisper-sigh into my pillow as I hover over top of my vibrator and thrust into it, wishing it was a dildo for the first time in my life.
Normally, I’m a clitoral stimulation girlie through and through, so vibrators are my jam. But right now, all I want is to feel Luke Fletcher inside of me, hard and punishing as he rocks into me over and over as he grips my neck and calls me a good girl for taking his big, aching cock so deep.
“Luke, don’t stop,” I squeak quietly into the softness of my pillow as I feel another orgasm crest. It’s wild how just saying his name out loud makes me even hornier. “Luke, I’m going to—”
I gasp when my vibrator cuts out and I ram it against my flesh in the hope it’ll somehow be revived by my impending orgasm. Unfortunately, my climax isn’t some sort of mythical power source, so I pull it out from under me to confirm what I fear.
It’s completely dead.
With a frustrated growl, I toss it onto my nightstand and wince when it bounces against the lamp and drops to the floor, sending an ear-piercing crack echoing through the room.
“Shit.” I lean over the bed, my hair dusting the floor as I scoop up the loose batteries. I attempt to slide them back in, but notice the back is cracked and now the damn thing won’t stay closed.
“Motherfucker,” I growl again, chucking the whole damn thing at the wall in frustration, only for it to break into even more pieces all over the floor.
I flop back and cover my face in shame. “Breaking vibrators? You are embarrassing yourself, Addison May Monroe.” I roll over onto my stomach, burying myself in my pillow.
I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve used that godforsaken thing in the past eight hours. It was at least three times throughout the night. And another three times this morning.
And the sun has barely risen.
I swear even Rufus was judging me because he crowed longer today than he usually does, and I think it’s because he knew what I was doing in here like a wanton little hussy.
Ugh. I’m gross.
