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Afterward, still inside her, I flipped us until she was settled on top of me, the weight of her heavy, bare breasts against my chest, rubbing her nipples against the overheated skin of my chest.

“I think we found a new kink for you,” Ro mused, tracing lazy circles around my nipple with her index finger.

“Not new. You could read the phone book to me in that voice and I’d come.”

In Seattle, I showed her the space needle. And tried to fuck us both into a coma.

I was sitting at our hotel room’s lone desk doing a phone interview when I caught sight of her coming out of the bathroom in a towel.

I covered the speaker and ordered, “Come and ride me, cupcake.”

In another one of her random acts of obedience she did it, dropping her towel on the way.

I took my dick out, phone still to my ear.

I helped her straddle me with one hand.

It was the first time she’d ridden me like this, and she did it with the focus only an unrepentant perfectionist could.

She wiggled and positioned herself just right, sinking down onto my cock with singular focus.

“Is this right?” she asked when she’d seated herself properly.

It was more than right, but I couldn’t manage to get a word out, as usual.

Instead I crushed her soft chest against mine, my arm a secure band around her waist and bucked her into an intense, rough ride.

I could last long enough inside of her to get her off these days, but it was pure, adoring effort. The second I knew she was coming, oblivion took me and when I resurfaced, I’d hung up on the interview. Oops.

She was boneless on top of me, her head on my shoulder, her breathing steady. I thought there was a good chance she might actually be asleep.

“It’s okay. Just take a nap on my dick like this,” I said wryly. “When it’s ready to go again it will wake you up, I have no doubt.”

She mumbled something, her lips against my skin, that sounded like, “Promises, promises.”

In L.A., Ro talked me into a day at Disneyland after the signing. I balked, made her bribe me for it, and had a great time.

We were holding hands in public now and not saying a thing about it. Not saying a thing about any of the affectionate little gestures that were becoming a habit for us.

It wasn’t that I didn’t think we needed to talk about the dreaded R word—relationship—it was just that we had all the time in the world, and I wanted her to bring it up.

I wanted her to come to me with the idea so I could surprise the hell out of her by agreeing without a qualm. Ruffled Ro was my happy place.

I made her stand in line for every photo op we passed. We didn’t have nearly enough pictures together.

She made me wait in line for the tiny kid rides that barely jostled you.

I dragged her onto the very lightweight rollercoasters in the park. She tried to resist, but it was too ridiculous that she basically wanted to just come here and walk around.

It didn’t hurt that when she got scared, she buried her face against me like I was the last piece of land she was holding onto at the edge of the world. I honestly couldn’t get enough of her like that.

After Splash Mountain she clung to me, arms wrapped around my waist after we got off the ride and wouldn’t let go. I pulled her to an alcove out of the way of the overwhelming rush of amusement park foot traffic. I held her for a good thirty minutes, her face buried in the center of her chest.

I rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head, over and over. “You poor thing,” I said sympathetically when she finally pulled back to look up at me. “You itty bitty wuss.”

“That’s the last rollercoaster,” she told me sternly.

I laughed. “Oh no, cupcake, we’re doing them all. Cuddle as much as you want to, but brace yourself for it.”