The Price of Inertia (The Seven Sins #4) - Lily Zante Page 0,87

sure.” I tap her on the nose. It’s her face I want to cup, her lips I want to kiss, but kissing will lead to something else, and that interruption won’t help me to reach word count today. Better to get my reward after, when I feel I’ve earned it.

“In that case, I’d better get back to my cleaning then. I won’t be giving you any rewards,” she admonishes me.

“Not even if I hit my daily word count?” Naturally, with a specific goal to reach—sex with Mari—I’ve been hitting my word count with ease. Also, not being frustrated or lusting after her now, because she’s all mine, seems to have unblocked whatever was hampering my creative flow.

Now that I know I can have her, I no longer jump and fantasise each time I hear her footsteps. I can focus on my writing, and know that if I’m good, I get to spend time with her.

It works.

She’s happy, and so am I.

This calm and steady environment does wonders for my creativity and the following weeks run smoothly. I work better when I only have my words and story to think about. I have never lived like this, with someone around all the time, someone I have feelings for. Someone I have come to trust and open up to. It’s been a long time since I’ve allowed someone in. Allowed someone to get close, someone who genuinely cares for me. I’m in danger of getting used to this and wanting it to be this way forever.

One evening I go to her room, knocking on the door, waiting for her to let me in. She’s lying on the bed suggestively in her underwear. “Reward time?” She spreads her legs, and props herself up on her elbows. Her breasts threaten to spill out of her bra cups.

She takes my breath away. I fight the urge to strip and dive onto the bed but my cock has other ideas.

“I hit seven thousand words today,” I say, sounding like a school kid.

She gets up, flips herself so that she’s on all fours, still on the bed. Her dangling breast an invite. She knows exactly what I want, and what I want is a release. Just not of the bookish kind.

I strip down to my boxers and dive onto the bed. We’re a tangle of limbs, of hands, and tongues. I clamp my lips over hers, and kiss her, fucking her mouth the way I intend to fuck her below. We roll around on the bed, fighting for dominance, her wanting to be on top, me letting her for a few moments before throwing her onto her back. She’s beautiful, and lush and inviting, and I’m the luckiest man alive. I pull down her bra cup and suck.

“Hey.” She grabs a handful of my hair and lifts my head. “Let’s go slower.”

I glance down at her breast, see the nipple erect. “I can’t go slow. I need my reward.” I suck her other breast harder, but she’s not reacting the way I expect. I lift my head. “I don’t get my reward?”

“Why the rush?” Her fingers run through my hair. She loves doing that and I love her doing it even more. “You don’t play with me anymore,” she says in a childish voice. I lift up on my knees, ready to pull my boxers down. “Play?” I’m desperate to thrust into her. Knowing she’d be waiting, I tortured myself with the wait, and managed to write more than I had intended. The waiting has taken me to the edge. All I want is to explode inside her.

But she’s not smiling. “What’s wrong?” I toss my boxers to the floor. She sits up, reaches for me, does her magic with her fingers, grabs my manhood and runs her thumb over the tip then begins to slowly pump.

“Nothing,” she says, then watches me fall apart while she does her usual magic.

I lie down on the bed, and she shifts position so that she’s leaning over me, taking care of me with her hand while she dips her head down and kisses me. It’s the softest, most gentle kiss, it’s more intimate than her touching and stroking. We stare at one another and I swear I feel a level of connection that sends a shiver through me.

“I wish we could talk more,” she whispers.

With her stroking me so beautifully, talking is the last thing on my mind. “We can talk, after.”

Her stroking continues. My breath catches in my throat.