Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 48680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 243(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
“How was that for a first time story?” he asks, smirking, and I tighten my legs around his waist, running my palms down his chest with a smile.
“I think . . .”
He raises an eyebrow, waiting.
My smile deepens. “I think I need a second time, to compare it to.”
“Is that so?” He leans down to nip at my neck.
“Mm, I’m afraid so.” I tangle my hands in his hair, running my nails over his scalp, which makes him shiver against me. “And after that, maybe a third and a fourth time too, just to be sure . . . I need a good pool for comparison.”
Pierce kisses me, and I feel his smile through our joined lips. “Hmm.” He sighs against my mouth, pretending to be put-out. “I suppose I can try to accommodate your demands.” He runs his hands up my sides, and I shiver. “Difficult as it will be to obey. I’ll just have to grin and bear it, somehow . . .”
I prod his side, fake offended, and he rolls over, pulling me on top of him. It doesn’t take long before I feel him start to harden beneath me again, and as we kiss once more, and he lifts me to position his cock beneath me, then guides me down onto his cock, until he fills every inch of me, I realize . . .
This is definitely the kind of treatment I could get used to.
Epilogue
“Are you sure you remember it all, Gram?” Bonnie is saying. “It’s okay if you don’t.”
“That’s about as irritating as if I asked you whether you remember how to walk,” Bonnie’s grandmother snaps, though she’s smiling as she swats her granddaughter’s wrist.
Sitting in the backseat of my chopper, watching the two of them interact, I can definitely see the resemblance. Sue-Ann, as Mrs. Taylor has insisted I call her, might be more than three times Bonnie’s age, but she’s still a spitfire. Not to mention they share the same emerald green eyes, both of which are sparkling in the early morning sun right now.
Bonnie, for all her fussing, is just as excited about this as her grandmother. And I can see why.
“Go on, get in the back before your man get’s lonesome,” Sue-Ann orders, and Bonnie leans in to kiss the older woman’s cheek before she hops over the seat to join me. I catch her hand as she comes, and pull her straight onto my lap. Yes, I’ll let her have her own seat when she needs to, but until then, I call dibs.
I hug Bonnie to my chest, and when her gram turns to study the controls some more, I sneak a hand beneath her shirt to fondle her breast. Bonnie turns bright red and slaps at my wrist.
“Pierce,” she hisses, half scolding and half loving this.
I tweak her nipple, and lean in to bite at her neck, when I catch Sue-Ann eyeballing us in the mirror. I drop my grip on Bonnie, though not before the old woman bursts into laughter.
“Don’t bother to play innocent, young man, I’ve seen it all before,” Sue-Ann says, while Bonnie’s entire face goes bright red.
She does look awfully adorable when she blushes like that. And it’s so easy to make her do it, too. I grin, and she glares at me. Too bad her angry glowering face looks even sexier. It really puts a damper on her attempt to punish me.
“Don’t encourage him, Gram,” Bonnie says. As she does, the side door opens, and Henry joins us. Henry has been my pilot since I bought this helicopter almost five years ago. I can tell he’s a little bit put-out about flying backup co-pilot now, since normally that job falls to me.
“Thanks again for chaperoning, Henry,” I tell him over the headset as he revs up the engine.
Sue-Ann swats Henry’s hand away from the starter and turns it herself. “Though I don’t see why we need two pilots. In the war, you know, you were lucky if you had one.”
Bonnie rolls her eyes. “Gram, you always had a pilot in the war.”
“Not if he got himself shot,” she points out, and we all sober up for a second at the thought. “Lucky for my passengers, I’m bullet-proof,” she adds, and with that, she grasps the controls and starts to ease us into the air.
Bonnie slides off my lap onto the seat next to me, squeezing my hand tightly before she fastens her belt. I can tell from the little tic in her forehead that she’s nervous. I don’t blame her. Her grandmother hasn’t flown a chopper in years, not since she first started to get sick. But the nursing home released her to a full-time at-home care nurse six months ago, and last month they bumped her down to part-time care only.
“She’s a trooper,” the doctor told us in the waiting room, after he’d finished her exam. “I’ve never seen anything like her recovery. Of course, she’ll have difficulty going forward, and you’ll always need to keep a close eye on her—she won’t last forever,” he added, probably because Bonnie was looking extremely thrilled by the news.