The pace I set is slow and easy. I want her warm, the terror gone from her mind. I want her crying out my name when she comes.
Pleasure clouds her eyes. Her nails dig into my back. Her breaths come out in pants that match my rhythm. The urge to race her to orgasm is definitely there, but I pull it back.
“My god…” she whimpers.
“Not god, beautiful. Just me inside you,” I whisper. “You’re safe.”
Something I can’t quite figure out crosses her face. Red flush tints her cheeks, and this time a very different kind of sweat coats her heated skin. “Please…”
For a split second I think she’s about to say my name, but then a climax spirals over her. She squeezes her eyes shut and clenches her teeth. Her back arches, every muscle in her body going rigid.
The tight grip of her pussy around my dick finally tips it for me, sending me crashing over into orgasm. My breath gusts over her, but the usual satisfaction of good sex doesn’t wash through me.
The odd sensation that’s been bugging me since earlier tonight returns with a vengeance. And I finally realize…
She swallowed my name when she came.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Annabelle
Elliot’s not in bed by the time I wake up. He’s got to be a morning person, although given how little sleep he had last night, I don’t see how he can function.
My face heats, remembering what happened. I was so shameless, using him for comfort and solace. It’s a good thing he didn’t mind. I’d like to blame it on his being a man—what guy says no to sex?—but I know better. I’m beginning to realize that Elliot only has sex when he wants to, with the partner of his choosing, not when just anyone lifts her skirt and spreads her legs.
I don’t know why I had the nightmare. I haven’t had it for over a year now. There’s absolutely no reason for me to doubt my ability to provide for Nonny now. She’ll be in a better school in no time at all, and I’m going to have the means to support her the way she deserves after my year of fake marriage with Elliot is over.
By the time I shower, throw on a T-shirt and skirt and pad barefoot to the kitchen for coffee, it’s seven. Nonny is at the counter, devouring a bowl of cereal. She’s in a brand new yellow dress, cut in a modest but not outdated way. Golden sandals look good on her, complementing the subtle tan of her legs.
“Morning,” I say, pouring fresh java into the first mug my hand grasps. It reads Nothing Says Amour like Paris in gold. In the background is a silver Eiffel Tower.
“Morning.”
“Where’d you get the dress and shoes?”
“They just showed up in my room. Elliot said they were mine when I asked yesterday.”
Guilt twinges in my conscience. I didn’t even think about getting her a new outfit during the last few days. Making sure Nonny’s okay and taken care of should’ve been at the top of my priority list. “Well they look great on you.”
“Thanks!” She beams. “He has such good taste.”
Him or Josephine. He hasn’t had time to go shopping either, unless he can be in two places at the same time. “Have you seen him?”
She nods. “He grabbed a cup of coffee, then went up to his office.” She shovels the last spoonful of cereal into her mouth. “Did you know I’m starting at the new school today?” she asks around the food.
“Chew and swallow before you talk,” I say in reflex. “And no, I didn’t.” Elliot mentioned it yesterday. The man works fast. “Are you okay with the transfer? I thought you wanted to go on the band trip.”
“I did, but…” She shrugs. “The new school has a band too, and they probably haven’t done their trip yet. It’s still early in the year.”
My shoulders sag with gratitude. I seriously lucked out when I got a sister as sweet and mature as Nonny.
“The bus’s coming to get me.” She frowns. “I hope it’s a better school.” And by that, she means a place where she can fit in.
She slides off her stool, her hands smoothing her dress. A silver bracelet with unicorn charms sparkles around her slim wrist. It’s from our mom, given to her on her twelfth birthday, and Nonny’s never taken it off.
“I’m sure it’ll be fantastic,” I say, giving her a tight hug. Based on what I’ve seen of Elliot, he isn’t the type to put her in just any school. He’s probably done his homework. “Do you want me to drive you?”
“No. It’s okay. I mean…I want to scope things out a little bit on my own, you know?”
“Okay.”
“Thanks.”