When he was done, his voice throaty, he ordered, “Slow.”
“Okay,” she agreed immediately.
Then her face disappeared in his neck and she used her mouth on him, going to his collarbone then down his chest. He pushed himself up so his shoulders were against the headboard as she went further down.
Then further down.
Then further.
His hands gathered her hair and pulled it back just in time to watch Elle slide his c**k into her mouth.
Then he watched as Elle, in her sexy, satin and lace nightie worked him.
Slow.
It was magnificent.
* * * * *
He lost her.
And Prentice knew it was the f**king photographers.
He’d had her. She was back.
Entirely.
Then she slid away.
And, as the day progressed, she retreated more and more until he lost her.
They were late leaving the guest suite because, after Elle took care of Prentice with her mouth, Prentice took care of Elle in the shower with his fingers.
Then, considering she smelled like lilies of the valley, she looked so f**king sexy with her hair wet and he hadn’t had his c**k inside her for over twenty-four hours, he took care of both of them in the bed.
She’d been collapsed on top of him, her face in his neck, her breath had slowed, her bodyweight fully relaxed and heavy on him, his c**k still hard and imbedded in her wetness, when she suddenly jerked up.
She stared at him in panic and shrieked, “Pancakes!”
Then in a flurry of movement, she exited the bed and ran around the room, pulling on underwear (which was, he noted, rolling to his side and watching her, just as sexy as her nighties), then spritzing with perfume, then yanking on a t-shirt.
She was hopping around trying to get in her jeans when her eyes hit him.
“Pren, what are you doing?” she demanded to know.
“I’m enjoying the show,” he replied.
Her eyes narrowed as she pulled her jeans over her hips. “Get up.”
“In a minute.”
She zipped her jeans and buttoned them while saying, “We have to make pancakes and Jace has a soccer game we have to get to.”
She called his son “Jace”.
He liked that.
“We’ve got time.”