Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 36964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 185(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Amelie’s limbs fall from their purchase, no longer on my body, and fuck if I don’t like it. No longer is one hand at the back of my head, holding me so we’re looking at one another, and the other, which was fisting the sheets beneath her, is now unclenched. I’m already missing the warmth. I allow my body to drop onto hers, giving Amelie more of my weight. My cock isn’t settling down even after our third time tonight, her five orgasms to my three. Leaving her sated and sore was all a part of my master plan.
“I can hear the thoughts running through your mind. If it hasn’t shut down and you’re too busy thinking, that means I didn’t fuck you well enough.” Her arms loop around my shoulders. Glad I’m not the only one struggling here. I really should get rid of this condom, maybe catch an hour or two of shuteye before it’s time for me to head to the airport.
“Tell that to my poor used and abused pussy.” A laugh escapes me. Unfortunately, my cock loses her body as she joins in. Damn it all to hell. I wanted a few more minutes with her snug around me.
“She wasn’t complaining a few minutes ago.” Her gaze is hooded. I press my lips along her forehead. A slight sheen of sweat coats both of our bodies, and when I lick my lips, another taste of her comes right with it. “Let me take care of the condom. Be right back.” She unwraps her body from mine. I watch my no longer hard cock, wetness clinging to the condom. A few things will be changing when I’m back in New Orleans and Amelie knows I’m returning.
“Alright,” she responds once I’m out of the bed, situating herself beneath the covers, eyes already closing, sleep consuming her body. I head to the bathroom, keeping the light off, to take care of the condom and wash my hands, then heading back to Amelie. She’s tucked into herself, hands beneath her head. Sliding in beside her would be so easy. Falling asleep with her wrapped around me would be even better. Sadly, the sun is rising all too fucking fast, meaning I’ve got to get my clothes on, head to the airport, and put fires out that I didn’t start in the first place. The only consolation in this dynamic is I’ll be coming back. I’m not playing with her. I’m playing for fucking keeps. Amelie will be in my life. Forever. Even if that means leaving now to protect her from the people who share my blood.
“See you soon, beautiful.” The sun is slowly creeping up along the horizon. Neither of us took the time to close the shutters, so the orange, pink, and purple hues cast a light throughout the room. Amelie sleeps through the entire process of my redressing and kissing her lips softly, a good thing, too, because I’m not sure I could handle saying goodbye.
ONE
Amelie
This is what I get for allowing myself to get lost in the heat of the moment. I did what no girl or woman should do—I allowed myself to have scorching-hot sex with a man while catching every feeling there is to mankind as well. Why? He was gorgeous, gave me his full attention, his eyes spoke of an untold story, and the way he carried himself was confident in every facet you could imagine, especially in bed. I’d like to say I was using him as a distraction to get away from my parents and their incessant arguing. Obviously, it didn’t work out that way. I’m thirty-four years old and still in the middle of their crap. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mom; she’s the peanut butter to my jelly sandwich that holds me together. Sweet, kind, nurturing, always positive when the world is trying to steal her sunshine. My dad, on the other hand, well, yeah, that’s an entirely different story. It’s hard to love your father when he doesn’t reciprocate or show the supposed love he claims to have for me. The problem is, I’m stuck between a rock and a hard spot, my parents’ divorce, unincluded.
You see, it always comes down to meeting a man, at least that’s usually how the story goes. This one isn’t a New Orleans native, here on business, and is the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. I thought it was going to be a fling, one night to let loose. Boy, was I wrong. One night turned into two, and so on and so forth. Each time he was here on business, we’d end up in bed together. There was no worrying about if my father is going to yell at my mother in that menacing tone of his, if he’ll tell me I’m wasting my time and should quit working at the LeBlanc Inn, which has been in my mother’s family for generations, only to work for him. Yeah, okay, no thanks. Needless to say, he can fall into one of the many holes along Bourbon Street for all I care. It’s him who’s the problem. Mom was never good enough in his eyes, and I’m the spitting image of my mother—our looks, the way we talk, the way we act, we’re an exact mirror replica of one another. Which pisses him off further, making him loathe me entirely. I was never the boy he hoped and wished for, and I’m their only child, a product of his own issue with a low sperm count. Karma really is a bitch. Works in all the right favors, allowing Mom to really dodge a bullet in that arena.