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Suddenly, I’m shattering, my hands coming to his head and my nails digging in his scalp. He slams into me one more time, so hard, I think I might have a bruise on my lower back, and then he is murmuring into my neck. “I’m coming. Fuck, I’m coming so hard. ”
Start to finish, even including the time that Gavin knelt down and used my torn panties to clean his se**n from between my legs, we couldn’t have been gone for more than ten minutes top. But damn… that was probably the best ten minutes of my life, and I was hungry to do something like that again real soon.
23
I’m exhausted. Only a week back from Chicago, and then I was jetting back out to The Big Apple. I’ve been in New York for two days, which were two days too many in my opinion. I had two book signings, a meeting with my editor, a meeting with the marketing team for my publisher, and finally, a meeting with Lindie. I was on the go constantly, meeting people, talking about my work, and promoting myself.
I hated every f**king bit of it, mainly because I had to leave Savannah back home. She was supposed to come with me but the night before we were to leave, she wasn’t feeling well. By the next morning, her nose was running, her voice was hoarse, and she was coughing so hard that I was afraid she’d expel a lung.
I immediately jumped out of bed when I heard her, got her some Tylenol and orange juice, then pulled my phone out of my pocket.
“What are you doing?” she had croaked while she looked up at me weakly from the bed.
“Canceling my trip,” I told her as I flipped through my contacts for Lindie’s number.
“No you’re not,” she said, and her voice sounded like it was coated in razor blades.
“Babe… you’re sick. I’m not leaving you. ”
“It’s a cold, Gavin. Just a cold, I’m sure. ”
“I’ve never heard a cold sound like that,” I retorted, and she gave a deep, lusty cough as if to prove my point.
“You’re not canceling,” she said firmly. “I just need some cold medicine and rest. I’ll be fine in a few days’ time. ”
“And who will take care of you while I’m gone?” I growled at her.
She grinned at me then… her nose red and runny, and she f**king grinned at me. “You are so cute when you play mother hen,” she said with a laugh, and then another cough. “But I can take care of myself. ”
“Let me at least take you to the doctor,” I told her, stuffing my phone back in my pocket.
“You can’t. You have to pack and get to the airport, but I promise I’ll go to the doctor if I’m not feeling better by tomorrow. Okay?”
I grumbled then, muttered a curse word under my breath, and watched as she grinned at me again and started clucking like a chicken. “Mother hen,” she teased.
I reluctantly packed, tried to give her a kiss before I left, to which she refused because she didn’t want me to get sick. I then had to point out that I had f**ked her silly the previous night and had my mouth all over her, including my tongue down her throat, and that I wasn’t that worried about getting sick. She still refused me and offered me a handshake.
I refused the handshake, crawled on the bed, and nuzzled my face in her neck. “Take care of yourself, Sweet. ”
She sighed, stroked my hair, and murmured, “You too, Filthy. ”
I called her yesterday. She had indeed not gotten any better and, as promised, went to the doctor. She sounded horrible but managed to tell me that he put her on some antibiotics and gave her a kick-ass cough syrup that she thought might have caused her to hallucinate that pink elephants were trampling through her room. I, of course, didn’t think that was funny and almost got on a plane right then and there to rush home to her, but she laughed softly into the phone, then hacked up another lung, and assured me she was fine.
As I was getting on the plane to come back this morning, she had texted me to tell me that she had to go work at The Haven because Jimmy, the guy that normally covered the Saturdays, was sick.
I texted her back with a pointed reminder, You’re sick too. Stay in bed.
I’m not as sick as Jimmy. Plus, I feel better today, she replied.
I wasn’t happy with her flippant attitude over her own health, and I made my displeasure known. I’m going to redden your ass with my hand when I get home.
She was not intimidated. Promises, promises.
Pulling into The Haven, I don’t see any other vehicles. This is the second time I’ve been here, the first just last week when we got back from Chicago. Savannah wanted to get a few volunteer hours in and had asked if I wanted to come. I didn’t particularly, but I was making amazing progress on the manuscript now with Savannah’s help on all the other crap I had to handle, and frankly, I didn’t want to be away from her.
So I said yes.
And I had fun.
It was hard work, but seriously… how can playing with cute puppies not be fun? And yes, maybe I played with the dogs more than I helped Savannah, but she just smiled at me while shaking her head, and I let her do the dirty work while I rubbed every dog’s tummy at least a dozen times.
Pulling around back, I see Brody’s truck but not Savannah’s car. He comes walking out of the kennel just as I exit the Maserati.
Brody gives a low whistle. “Damn, dude… that is a sweet ride. ”
“You can take it out for a spin any time you want, mate,” I tell him as he walks around it, eyeing the sleek lines and shiny paint.
“I’ll take you up on that sometime,” he says, and then adds on, “Looking for Savannah?”
“Yeah… just got in from the airport, and she said she’d be here. ”
“She was until about an hour ago, when I found her practically keeled over on the floor. She’s way too sick to be working today. ”
Cursing, I walk back toward my car. “Thanks. I’m off to go spank her for getting out of bed when I specifically told her not to. ”
“Give her a whack from me,” Brody calls out, and I shoot him a wave as I get in my car to go take care of my girl.
I find Savannah in my bed—our bed really—curled up in a fetal position with the blankets pulled up under her chin. Her forehead is sweaty and her skin clammy. Sitting on the edge of the bed beside her, I stroke her head lightly and say, “Savannah… baby… I’m home. ”
Her eyes immediately open and focus on me, and a sleepy smile comes to her face. “Hey,” she says, and her voice still sounds like a frog is stuck in her throat.
“Not feeling any better, I see. ”
She shakes her head and coughs into the crook of her elbow.
“And didn’t I tell you to stay in bed? Brody said you were practically passed out on the floor today,” I chastise her.
Savannah’s eyebrows draw inward, and she whines to me, “I wanted to be better. I wanted to be better because I knew you were coming home today and look… I even put on sexy underwear because I wanted to seduce you. ”
She pulls the covers down, and she is indeed in some sexy-as-fuck lingerie… black, see-through lace, and no matter that my girl has a red nose and snot running out of said nose, my c**k twitches at her beautiful, lace-clad body.
I pull the covers back up around her and tuck them back under her chin. “Bad girl. You had no business being out of bed, and you certainly are in no condition to prance around in that get up, trying to get me all hard, knowing I can’t take advantage of you. I’m so going to tear your ass up when you’re better. ”
She’s feeling well enough to give a soft laugh over my non-existent threat, and then she gives me a tender smile. “I missed you. ”
“I missed you, too,” I tell her as I lean over to kiss her forehead. “Now, when was the last time you ate?”
She shrugs her shoulders, and I give her a disapproving glare. She grins back at me.
“Chicken soup, medicine, and then I’m ordering you to sleep while I get some work done, okay?”
“Okay,
” she says sleepily, rolling back over to close her eyes while I go fix her some lunch.
“You’re going to get sick,” Savannah grumbles.
“I’m not going to get sick,” I tell her and squeeze her closer.
My well-laid plans to feed her, medicate her, and then go to work have been waylaid. I took one look at her lying in bed, realized how much I had missed her the last two days, and said, Fuck the manuscript.
I stripped down to my underwear and crawled in bed with her. I pulled her into my arms over her protests that she’d make me sick and tucked her in tight.
We watched TV for a while and Savannah dozed on and off, occasionally coughing… a wheeze here and there. She wasn’t running a fever though, so I just let her sleep while I held her. At six o’clock, I got up and heated us up some more soup, made her take her antibiotics and cough syrup, and then ran a bath for her.
She was a bit shaky while I peeled the black lace off her body and helped her step into the tub. I sat on the ledge while she washed herself, leaning over and helping her every once in a while, just so I could touch her.
“Bad boy,” she whispered hoarsely, and I couldn’t agree with her more.
After I got her out of the tub, I dried her body and her hair. Slipping one of my T-shirts over her head, I packed her back off to bed. I knew I should go and work on the book some more, but I couldn’t help myself and crawled back in bed with her.
Savannah laces her fingers through mine and snuggles in closer to me. “Are you close to your parents?”
I squeeze against our threaded fingers and stroke her hip with my other hand. “Sure. I mean… we’re pretty close. After Charlie died and I sort of went off the deep end, things were strained for a while, but my parents were like f**king rocks for me. ”
“I’m sure they were devastated,” she says softly.
“Yes… completely. Not only for their grandchild but for their son as well. What about your parents?”
“They’re pretty awesome. Of course, I told you they gave me tremendous support during the whole Kevin thing. ”
My body involuntarily tightens when I think about “the whole Kevin thing. ” I’d like to look his sorry as up and beat the ever-loving shit out of him.
“I’d love for you to meet them sometime,” Savannah says timidly.
Meet her parents?
Hmmmm… now why isn’t that causing a pit of fear in my stomach? Why does that idea sound appealing to me?
Oh, I know why… because that’s Savannah admitting to me that we have something pretty f**king deep here, just as I was suspecting.
“Too fast for you?” she asks quietly.
“What?” I ask, blinking. “Is what too fast?”
“Meeting my parents. You got awful quiet when I suggested it. ”
Turning on my side, I lay my head on her pillow so we’re practically nose to nose. “I’d love to meet your parents, Sweet. Tell me more about them. ”
She smiles and takes in a deep breath that, to my ears, sounds like it may be a little clearer. “Here’s their short bio. June and Brian Shepherd, married for thirty years this coming summer. They doted on their only, and quite angelic, child, Savannah. Mom is a secretary for an accountant, and Dad is an electrician. They’re kind of shy, so you know I come by it honestly, but they have the best hearts in the world. You’ll adore them. ”
“I’m sure I will. ” Just like I adore you, sweet girl.
“Did you always want to be a fiction writer?”
“Always,” I tell her as my hand winds around her waist, and I pull her in tight.
“Have you written any other books?”
“A few,” I tell her. “Although they’re rubbish. ”
“No way,” she denies me. “I’ve read your work. It’s amazing. ”