by Blaire Drake
My girl.
“I need to call him.” She pushed me off of her and reached for her phone.
I growled and knocked it on the floor from the nightstand. “You can. In a minute. On one condition.”
She blinked up at me with those gorgeous baby blues. “Fine. Name it, Mr. Romano.”
I smirked. I loved it. “You call him right in front of me, and then when you're done, I'm going to drag you back into this bed, kiss every inch of your gorgeous body, then flip you over and fuck you so hard you'll stop caring.”
“Deal.” She kissed me firmly, curling her body right around mine until my cock got so hard the temptation not to wait became too strong and I flipped her onto her back. We were both naked, so my cock brushed against her wetness several times.
She gasped beneath me, lifting her hips so the opening of her pussy touched the top of my erection.
“Fuck the phone call,” I murmured, quickly pushing my dick inside her.
Again, she gasped, her body arching as she adjusted to me. Her fingers dug into my back, avoiding the scar that my injury had left, and I lost myself in her as I thrusted. The sound of her heavy breathing going to moans and cries as she came guided me toward my own release, and I reveled in the feeling of her tight cunt spasming around my cock as I joined her in happiness.
And then her phone rang. She groaned as I pulled out of her and dropped to the side. I snatched her wrist and pulled her against me as the shrill tone filled the room and the phone buzzed across the carpet.
I took her mouth with mine. “I love you, Mrs. Romano.”
She smiled. “I love you, too, Cacciatore.”
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Blaire Drake is a pseudonym for a New York Times bestselling author, who wanted to let her sexier side out. You can find her hiding behind a cocktail glass while she writes wearing a balaclava so nobody works out her real name.
Connect with Blaire online at:
Website: www.blairedrake.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/blairedrakewrites
Twitter: @BlaireDrake
Instagram: @BlaireDrake
