They sat together and ate, and drank wine, and Cullen regaled her with humorous tales from his med school days.
Afterwards, they made slow love in his master bedroom. Her body was like an instrument he played to perfection. Lying naked in each other’s arms, Cullen’s hardness inside her, enveloping her, she had the most beautiful and painful orgasm.
It hurt because it was final, and it was sad and lovely and Cullen kissed her at the same time, as if trying to drink her in.
Later on, they went back downstairs and cuddled on the couch, and watched a silly movie starring Seth Rogan and ate ice cream and made jokes.
It was so normal and yet so amazing, it made her stomach ache from the wanting of it to just last a little longer.
Deeper into the night, her eyes started to close as she lay with her head on Cullen’s chest, hearing his heart slowly beating, while the TV played softly, its images flickering in the now darkened room.
When she woke up again, Cullen was carrying her in his strong arms like he’d done that first night when she’d been drunk. Only now, he was carrying her upstairs to the master bedroom.
“I can walk,” she said.
“Let me carry you, beautiful,” he said softly.
And then they were in his big bed together. She slid down, kissing his chest and then his stomach, and finally she took his hardness into her mouth, sucking him slowly, enjoying his taste, enjoying his everything.
Cullen lay back and allowed her to go down on him, and soon she was stroking him fast with her hand and he said that he was going to finish.
Ivy put her mouth over his wet, thick cock and sucked as fast as she could, while continuing to stroke him.
He groaned, and his cock sent bursts of hot semen into her mouth, and Ivy was surprised to find that she liked it. Actually, she loved it.
She was practically climaxing herself, as Cullen finished in her mouth, and her tongue slid over and over, circling his cock head, sliding down his shaft as he gushed into her throat.
When it was over, Cullen was lying with one arm across his forehead, breathing heavily, seemingly relaxed.
Ivy laid her head on his chest and snuggled up to his warm body. “This is so nice,” she murmured.
“It is,” he agreed.
“Then why does it have to end?” she asked. “Why?”
“You know why,” he said. “I can’t let you be hurt by all of this.”
“I don’t care. I want to be with you. I’ll do anything.”
He laughed. “I appreciate the sentiment, but it’s not as if…” he trailed off.
“Not as if what?” she said.
Cullen didn’t answer her and she turned her gaze up to him. He was staring into the darkness. “There might be a way,” he said, his voice hesitant, but somewhat hopeful.
Ivy sat bolt upright in the bed. “Are you serious? Don’t tease me, Cullen.”
He sat up too, running his hand through his hair. “If we do what I’m thinking, though, it’s going to make your life much more complicated.”
“I don’t see how that’s even possible,” she said.
His eyes stared into hers. “It would be a sacrifice, but it would allow me to come clean with you about all of it. Everything.”
She swallowed, feeling nervous now. “What can we do to make this work between us?”
He grabbed her hand and held it tightly. “We get married,” he said simply.
“Married,” she repeated, the word sounding somehow jumbled as she said it.
“You and I get married,” Cullen repeated. “It’s the only way we can go on together, Ivy. You and I must be linked together in every way. Legally.”
He looked at her, waiting to see what she thought.
She owed him a real answer.
It was so obvious, but somehow her voice wouldn’t speak.
But then she replied, and she knew her life would never be the same.
END OF BOOK 6
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RUDE by Zoe Tyler
Chapter 1
This is so not what I signed up for.
When I got the job at Seascape Villas as night manager, I thought I’d actually be learning about the business. You know, putting my hospitality degree to good use.
Instead, on my first night here, I’ve been sent to investigate some cocky asshole in Villa Seven who apparently thinks it’s appropriate to blare his music at midnight.
Villa Seven is painted bright yellow with turquoise trim. Delicate white flowers grace quirky wooden window boxes. It would be completely picturesque, if the music from inside wasn’t loud enough shake the entire structure. The song sounds aggressive. Something with blazing guitars and pumping bass. Something angry.
I tap at the door, realizing immediately that whoever is inside won’t be able to hear that wimpy little knock over their pounding music. Taking a deep breath, I knock more authoritatively, and the door swings open.