Page 66 of Making It While Faking It
The Double Cross
ACHILLES LORD
BRIGHT AND EARLY
Her body is so damn soft. I ache to feel her against me. Her hair carries the scent of orange blossoms, and her skin is like silk, supple against my touch and squeeze. It’s morning. Soon, my alarm will sound, and when that happens, I won’t have a minute to spare for this.
I steer my cock against her perfect round and firm ass. Treasure breathes, stirs, and pushes closer against me. Good, baby. Wake up and come to daddy.
I roll my tongue around that spot on her shoulder that always makes her hot. “Mmm…” My cock grinds between her ass again. But I better watch out, because if I keep grinding her, I will blow.
She sighs and whispers, “Mmm, Achilles.”
I stroke down the side of her body, the curve of her waist, to her belly, and then my mouth waters when I slide my fingers into her moisture—she’s dripping wet.
Treasure moans and squirms against me.
Yes.I have her full cooperation.
I rub her clit, and she wriggles some more, clutching the pillow.More.She rides against me, whimpers.More.Shit… I would rather be tasting her, doing this with my tongue, but it’s too late. I should’ve started with my tongue. I am arriving closer to blowing. She needs to come fast.More.My beautiful woman cries out, and I press up against her, slip as many fingers as I can inside her and… sigh… I feel her walls pulse around me. Shit. What a beautiful thing, when a woman’s sex throbs as she orgasms.More.I hurry up and glide inside her, filling her, stretching her. She’s so damn warm—no, she’s hot, balmy, inviting.
“Shit…” I moan. Each plunge and pull brings me closer.
More.I can’t yet, though. I want to feel her pulsing around my cock.More. In and out, I work her clit. Fuck.You can do it, Achilles. Don’t. Come. Yet.
“Oh Achilles, please,” she cries in pleasure.
Yes, baby. Like that.
Her sighs are deep, hard, and then her head falls against my collarbone. Her ass tightens. Her walls quake around me, and it feels so damn…
“Oh, shit!” I release myself inside her.
TWO HOURS LATER
Treasure is in the kitchen. She’s wearing my favorite red slip and a matching silk robe. I’m suited up. I can’t get started with her yet again. I went down on her after she showered. My tongue rubbing her clit, I watched her fingers dig into the comforter, felt her hips ride my mouth and then retract when I brought her closer to climax. She came, and I finished inside her. Twice in one morning is not enough for us, but it should get me through the day. I can’t do it again. My cock is too sore. Treasure gave me this healing ointment to put on it. But last night, when we made it home from Herc’s place, how many times did we fuck? Two? Three? It was three. I winced when I put on my pants. The healing ointment will make me ready for her tonight. But not now. The salve needs time to work its magic.
“I made banana crepes,” she says, holding a forkful in front of my mouth for me to taste. One hand on her back, I guide her closer, and I take the bite of food.
“Mmm,” I say, closing my eyes, letting them fall to the back of my head. I’m not patronizing her when I say that she’s a fantastic cook. She’s just as good as Barbara. “That’s delicious, baby.”
Her eyes always narrow just a fragment when I call her “baby.” I’ve been meaning to ask her why. But then, why ask why when I already know the answer?
This is getting real between us—very real. It’s almost time to ask her what we are going to do about that contract.
“Sit. Eat with me, if you have time,” she says, her beautiful face beaming at me. My own personal morning sun.
I don’t have time. I’ll be late for a meeting with John, my accountant. “Yeah, I have time.”
I listen to her talk about a lunch she had with her mother on Tuesday of last week. She already mentioned the lunch on Tuesday night. However, this morning, details are different. She says that her mother and aunt have become friends with my mother, Marigold. She thinks my mother’s new role is Heartly and Londyn Grove’s referee. However, her mother and my mother hit it off the most. They’re thinking about planning more events together. She’s about to say more—I can see it in her eyes—but instead, she smiles pensively.
“Achilles?” she says.
I raise my eyebrows.Humph?
Her lips are parted. We do this a lot—want to say something to each other but stop short of getting it out.
“I’m falling in love with you. And I’m scared,” she bravely admits.
