Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 164533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Breathless, I nodded, trying my best not to make another sound. The living room was a good distance away, tucked into the opposite corner of the ground floor, but there was still a chance my aunt or uncle could wander into the kitchen for a snack.
“We need to be fast,” I whispered, biting my lip to keep in another moan.
As though taking my words as a challenge, Rhys tongued my clit with haste, creating a building tension within me. He slid two fingers inside me, and I felt pleasurably full. His eyes never left me, gazing up and taking in my every reaction, like the act of eating me out was giving him as much satisfaction as having his cock buried deep inside me might.
The thought of him throwing me down on his bed, spreading my legs, and sliding into me just as easily as he’d used to had my orgasm hurtling forward like an Olympic sprinter.
I gripped his shoulder with one hand while the other sunk into his hair. “Rhys,” I rasped. “I’m close.”
A deep, approving growl rumbled out of him, and then I came, shuddering on his mouth as he continued to lick at me, drawing out every tremor and shake until I was completely spent. I tugged him up to standing then plastered my mouth to his.
Kissing him seemed like the only way I could convey my gratitude. I could taste myself on him, but I felt no shame. Rhys had no idea what he was gifting me. He was giving me my body back in a way I was incapable of doing alone. He allowed me to rediscover sexual pleasure with someone I felt completely and totally safe and at ease with.
“Thank you,” I breathed, still tasting myself on his tongue, then repeated, “Thank you.”
Rhys stared at me, his eyes a little unfocused before he reached out and tucked some hair behind my ear. “No thanks needed. Ever. Already told you I’m at your disposal.”
Okay. Wow. That statement brought forth a flurry of ideas, none of which I’d ever be brave enough to make a reality, but still, it was nice to imagine.
“What are you thinking?” he murmured.
A small, barely there smirk graced my lips. “I’m thinking … how can I sneak you upstairs to my bedroom without my aunt or uncle noticing?”
He let out a deep, masculine chuckle that I felt all the way to the pit of my stomach as his hand cupped my cheek. “I think we’ve done enough sneaking around for one day.”
“I politely disagree,” I countered, drawing a handsome smile from him that somehow managed to light me up from within.
Rhys tutted. “So demanding.” His mouth went to my ear. “What to do with you?”
“I already—"
“I can’t wait to sink my cock inside you, Charli. I haven’t forgotten how well we fit.”
With that one statement, he withdrew, leaving me reeling as I leaned against the wall, heart pounding. Rhys reached the door, turning back to say, “If you need me this weekend, call me. I won’t be busy.”
And then he left. I wasn’t sure how long I remained standing there, but it was only when I finally pushed away from the wall and fixed my skirt back down that I realised he hadn’t returned my underwear.
***
Perhaps it was the two orgasms Rhys had given me the day before, but I woke on Saturday morning energised and ready to face the day. I got right work to work where I’d left off on my mortgage application and started doing more research on the process of buying a house in Ireland. All the while, my mind kept drifting back to Rhys, his hand in my panties, his mouth between my legs.
I was in and out of daydreams all morning when I stumbled across an article with advice for potential home buyers. It detailed how certain sellers with an emotional attachment to the house they were selling wanted to know it was going to someone who would care for and appreciate it as much as they did. I thought of the little house next door to Rhys’ with its butterfly theme and lovingly renovated interior. Melanie and Kevin obviously loved their house and were sad to leave, but it just wasn’t large enough to start a family in.
The article went on to suggest that writing a letter to the sellers telling them what the house would mean to you could be a way of convincing them to accept your offer. It felt like a good idea since it would take at least a few more weeks before I was ready to put in an offer, and the house could be sold by then.
So, I borrowed some fancy stationary from Uncle Padraig’s office and set to work. I re-read the letter several times before sealing it in a cream coloured envelope. I was far too restless to drop it at the nearest post office, though. It was the weekend, and posting the letter meant it could take days before it reached Melanie and Kevin.