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“I’m on birth control if you’re okay with it.”
I knew better. I’ve always known better. But at that moment, I was so intoxicated by her that I didn’t care.
“I’m okay with it,” I said.
She slowly slid herself down my cock until I was buried deep inside her. The warmth and wetness took me to another world. My hands grasped her beautiful, perfect breasts as she moved back and forth, grinding her hips, leaving us both immersed in each other. I let her ride me for a while, and it was my turn. Gripping her hips, I rolled her off me and hovered over her, taking control like the animal I was. How the hell could I not remember fucking her in Vegas? The sensation was overwhelming as we both cried out in pleasure. She orgasmed, leaving me no choice but to join her. Halting, I grunted, straining to pump out every last milky drop I had inside me.
Rolling off her, I lay on my back and placed my hand over my racing heart.
“Good God,” I said.
“Did you not enjoy it?” she asked, rolling on her side and staring at me.
“Are you kidding?” I smiled. “It was incredible.”
“Yeah. It was.” She grinned. “And to think we did it three times in Vegas and have no memory of it.”
“Yeah.” I chuckled. “I honestly don’t understand how.” I reached over and ran my fingers through her hair. “We should get some sleep.”
“Totally. I’m so exhausted.”
Leaning over, I kissed her goodnight.
“Goodnight, Willa.”
“Goodnight, Damien.”
I lay there with my hands behind my head, staring up at the ceiling. She snuggled her body against mine and lay her head on my chest. I placed my arm around her, held her tight, and closed my eyes. I had a feeling I was fucked.
The following morning, I rolled over and saw that the other side of the bed was empty. Furrowing my brows, I got up, slipped on a pair of sweat shorts, and followed the aroma of food cooking to the kitchen.
“Morning,” I said as she stood in front of the stove in one of my T-shirts.
“Morning. I’m making breakfast. It’s pretty nice out already, so I thought we could eat on the terrace.” She smiled.
“Ah, pancakes. I didn’t know we had pancake mix.”
“You don’t. But you had all the ingredients for homemade ones. My mom taught me how to make them from scratch when I was little.”
“Do your parents live in New York?” I asked, making a cup of coffee.
“No. I’m originally from Rhode Island. My dad passed away a couple of years ago, and my mom has a new man in her life. I don’t see her as much as I should. It’s hard, you know. My being here, and she is in Rhode Island.”
“I’m sorry for the loss of your father. I can relate. My father passed away four months ago now.”
“Aw.” She set the spatula down and hugged me. “I’m sorry. You never mentioned that.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
She turned to the stove and flipped the pancakes. “Were you two close?”
“Yes. We were very close, and his death hit me hard.”
“My father’s death hit me hard, too. I was always daddy’s little girl. Pancakes are ready.”
She handed me my plate, and we took our breakfast to the table on the terrace.
ChapterFifteen