Page 66 of Never Pucking Ending

I rest my forehead against her. “Holy shit,” I agree, still inside her. Still half hard despite my soul coming out of my body with that orgasm.

Still wrapped around her, I turn off the water and manage to carry her out of the shower. Sheets be damned, I lower her onto the bed and thrust forward again, feeling the mixture of our cum coat my cock.

Belle gasps. “Already?”

“I told you I wanted to do this with you two or three more times. Minimum. I make good on my promises, baby girl.”

And that’s exactly what I do until I know exactly what she looks like in the positions I’ve always pictured her in. Until sleep has no choice but to knock us out just to give our bodies a break. All while one word remains in my mind.

Mine.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Belle

My body is jelly in the best way possible the next day. The day after I had sex with Jesse Clarkson.

Oh my God, I had sex with Jesse Clarkson.

Multiple times.

Four times. Or was it five? I’ve never been sorer from sex than I feel right now. But am I going to complain? Absolutely not. A man hasn’t made me come in way too long. And not because I’ve been celibate for the past few years. The last guy who tried wasn’t cutting it. In his mind, me going down on him was supposed to be enough to rev my engine without any other foreplay. Spoiler alert: it didn’t.

Going down on Jesse, though? Totally different story. The second I wrapped my mouth around him the third round in, he’d exploded within seconds. But it was hot. Way hotter than I thought it would be. And, thankfully, his cock was springing up the second I straddled his hips and rubbed against him for more as we made out. He didn’t care that I tasted like him, just like I didn’t when his face would find its way between my thighs before he’d kiss his way back up. Not even two minutes after swallowing him, I’d sunk onto him with his hands eagerly guiding my hips into a rhythm and we started all over again.

I thought yesterday was a fever dream. A fantasy that I’d hold onto for dear life because there’s no way it was real. But I woke up in his bed, wrapped in his arms, smelling like his soap.

And then he made us pancakes.

Okay. He made me pancakes. He made himself scrambled eggs and steamed vegetables because heaven forbid he eats some carbs after a twelve-hour sex marathon.

We’d only come up for air to feed Dobby, order delivery for dinner, and clean the kitchen since there were kitty-sized paw prints in flour all over the house. It took an hour before it was spotless, another thirty minutes for us to eat, and ten to find ourselves a peculiar position on the couch. Which involved me bent over the arm of it and him behind me. Naked, of course.

Even now, sore and sated, I want more. Why did I think getting it out of my system would work? I’ve been staring at my computer monitor for the last forty-five minutes attempting to work, but all I can think about is…him. Jesse. I mean, that’s not all that different than any other day. I just know for a fact that he’s sculpted like a Greek God naked. And I know how he feels. And tastes.

Stop. I slam my eyes closed and scrape my palms over my face. It’s a good thing he had to meet the guys for their team workout, or I’d probably be doing a lot less than I already have. Which is only having answered a whopping three emails, text my mother back about something nonsensical, schedule my first mammogram, and obsessively think about the cute little freckle Jesse has on his left butt cheek.

I startle when my phone rings, heart racing when I see an unknown number on the screen. Oh god. Is this one of the board members informing me they can’t approve my plans? Is it Rae saying she’s reconsidering the lease because of what Karen Hardy brought up?

Sitting straighter, I accept the call. “Hello?”

“Belle?” It’s a man on the other side. He sounds familiar. Sort of. Distantly, a part of my brain knows I’ve heard that voice before.

“Yes. Who is this?”

His laugh is light. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you didn’t save my number. It’s Isaac. Sorry to call you at random, but your stepbrother told me I could run something by you.”

My…

I blink. What?

“Oh.” I pause. When I got my new phone, I never bothered backing up my contact list. His was one of the many that didn’t make the cut, and I didn’t think twice about it. “Okay. What’s up?”

If Isaac senses my cautious confusion, he doesn’t let on. “Do you remember that marketing presentation we had to do? The one where we had to create a fictional business and come up with an entire portfolio on marketing strategies, sales stats, and promotional budgets?”

I make a face. I did. It was a final project worth twenty percent of our grade. My anxiety had been through the roof when we were told to partner with at least one other person for it. Most people were relieved to split the responsibility, but I knew that there was always one person who carried group projects and it was usually me. To my surprise, Isaac actually pitched in a lot. Even though most of his ideas were half-assed. Not that I ever told him that. I definitely thought it, though.

“Yes?” I don’t know why it comes out a question or why he laughs at it.