Chapter 9 #2
I STIR AWAKE TO THE weight of a hard, hot body atop mine.
Travis kisses me, softly, rousing me just enough.
I cling to him, slowly waking up to his hands trailing over my body.
I open to him, I’m always open to him. I moan softly as his rigid length slides in and out of me with deliberate slowness.
I could wake up like this every single day.
“Trav...” I murmur.
He says nothing, only leans down to claim my mouth in a deep, intense kiss.
His taste is exquisite, his mouth hot. His body, slick with a light sheen of sweat, moves with a rhythm that drives me to unprecedented heights.
I grip his shoulders, lifting my hips to meet his thrusts, whimpering his name.
I climax quickly, clenching around him. His silent release follows closely, his body trembling.
I relish the feeling of his release, knowing it's all for me.
“What a way to wake up,” I whisper.
“I couldn’t resist,” he admits, his voice low. “You rolled over and your hands found me in your sleep...”
I whimper softly as he kisses my neck.
“I have work to do, beautiful.”
I pout in the darkness. “It’s barely four a.m.”
“I know, but I have a big contract to sort out.”
I huff softly.
“Go back to sleep, baby. I’ll wake you in a few hours.”
“It better be like this again.”
He chuckles. “I’ll do my best.”
He tucks the blanket back over me, and I hear him leave.
I drift back into a light, restless sleep, waking again when sunlight streams through the window.
I sit up, stretching, my body pleasantly sore.
I spot one of Travis’s t-shirts and pull it on, then pad into the bathroom.
Staring at my reflection, I run my fingers through my tousled hair and brush my teeth.
Feeling more refreshed, I go in search of Travis.
I find him in his home office, on the phone.
He faces the window, his back to me, wearing only a pair of black jeans.
His physique is striking—the backside of a cowboy, smooth, sculpted back, and messy dirty blonde hair.
I walk over slowly, placing my hands on his back.
He jumps slightly, then turns and grins down at me.
“Yeah, Marcus, sort it all out. What time does the flight leave?”
Silence, and a soft kiss from Travis. “We’ll be there.”
He hangs up, his grin lazy and content.
“Good morning, sunshine. You look well ravished.”
“I didn’t get woken up...” I huff, and he laughs.
“I can make it up to you later. How does breakfast sound?”
I grin. “Perfect.”
We make our way down to the kitchen.
“Want me to make you my famous egg toast?”
My heart skips a beat. “Like you used to?”
He grins, remembering just as I am.
“Mischief, check it out.”
I’m sulking because he went on a date last night. I don’t want to talk to him. I’m seventeen, wildly in love with him, and he is doing everything he can to avoid that because he knows it’s a bad idea. Not to mention, I hate the girl he went out with, Annabelle.
“Aw, stop sulking.”
I grumble a curse under my breath. “Did you kiss her?”
He frowns. “It doesn’t matter, come on, Mischief, we’ve talked about this...”
“Yeah, well, it’s not fair.”
“I know, kid, but Chief would kill me. You know that. It’s for the best.”
Does he really believe that?
I look into his grey eyes. I want to hate him, but I never could. He is everything to me. But he is older now, gorgeous and popular, and I’m the one girl that can’t have him.
“Come on, I made this for you...”
I look down at the plate. My heart flutters. Written on my egg toast in ketchup is ‘Forgive me?’ I smile. He knew before I asked that he would want my forgiveness. I look up at him and smile.
“I will always forgive you, but Annabelle is gross.”
He laughs.
“We had some fun, didn’t we?” Travis says, bringing me back to the present.
“Yeah, we really did.”
“So, what little note can I put on your egg toast today?”
“Suck my...”
He cuts me off with a slap to my bottom. “Careful, baby. I might just hold you to those words.”
I grin, wagging my finger in front of his face. “Get in the kitchen and make me some breakfast.”
He clutches his heart dramatically. “Wounded!”
“Go on, before I whip you with a dish towel. You know I always kicked your ass with a dish towel.”
“Oh yeah?” he grins, grabbing a dish towel from the sink and spinning it around.
I giggle, taking another one, and whip it at his leg. It makes a loud crack. He chases after me, and I squeal, bolting down the hallway. I sidestep into his room at the last minute, and he skids to a halt. When he enters, I whip him again.
“If I catch you, Mischief, you’re in trouble,” he bellows.
My laughter trails down the hall.
I whip out again, just missing him, but he manages to grip the dish towel and yank it free from my hand. I scream, throwing my hands up.
“I surrender.”
He hooks me around the waist, hauling me up against him. “Fine, but I’ll get you back later. Speaking of later, do you remember when we used to re-enact that scene from Dirty Dancing?”
I squirm, my cheeks burning. “Ugh, that was so lame.”
“It wasn’t lame when you were crawling across the floor towards me. Sylvia,” he purrs.
“Fuck you,” I try to get out of his arms, but he keeps teasing.
“Yes Mickey,” he sings in a girly voice, cupping my ass.
“Not funny.”
“But you did it so well.”
I slap his chest, ducking out of his arms. “You shame me, sir.”
His laughter follows me down the hall.
I am smiling the whole way.