Halston

I trace my fingers against his biceps, my thighs wrapped around his hips as his cock thrusts, quelling the throbbing ache between my legs.

We may be in Prague, physically, but I’m also in heaven.

Studying his face, he brings his mouth onto mine every few seconds, whispering the occasional “I love you” here and there, and fucking me harder when he hears my soft moan in his ear and his name on my lips.

“Missionary’s not so bad, is it?” I tease, lifting my fingers to his chiseled, beautiful face. Someone should make a statue out of him, immortalize this gorgeous man so the rest of the world can enjoy a piece of him.

His full lips turn at the corners, and he fucks me harder.

“You can try all you want to make missionary sex erotic, but it’s still romantic,” I tease, bucking my hips against his and relishing in the weight of his body pinning me down, anchoring me to the bed we haven’t left since we got here on Friday.

I can’t get enough of him, finding excuses to touch him and kiss him and make love to him every chance I get. For a while, I worried he was getting annoyed by it, sure that sooner or later he’s going to want space, and then he woke me up in the middle of the night because he missed me. He missed this.

But to be fair, we’ve got five years to make up for.

We’re only getting started.

Ford fills me with his cock, pushing himself deeper inside me, his hips bucking faster as we inch closer to the brink. My body relaxes, surrendering to him as I ride the wave and he fills me with his hot seed.

When we’re finished, he collapses on the bed and pulls me into his arms, running his fingers through my hair as we wait for our breaths to steady.

“So what’s with you ditching the blonde hair?” he asks a moment later.

“That’s random.”

“Don’t get me wrong. You’re sexy as hell as a brunette, and this whole classy charm school thing you have going on is top notch. But I miss my wild girl. The one with the wavy blonde hair, the one who was a little less restrained, a little more undone.”

“I’m still that girl,” I say, rolling to my side and resting my chin on his shoulder as I look up at him. Visually tracing his perfect profile, I rest my hand over his beating heart. I smirk. “That said, I have nothing against bringing the blonde back for old times’ sake. Maybe we can even do a little roleplaying? You can be the big, bad principal, and I can be the naughty school girl, and you can call me into your office and punish me.”

Ford almost chokes on his spit. “Oh, god.”

“What?” I play dumb. “You know it’d be really fucking hot.”

He’s speechless.

“Too soon?” I ask. “Too close to home? What?”

Ford sits up against a propped pillow, pulling me over top of him and resting his hands at the small of my back.

“It was never about the student-teacher dynamic,” he says. “It was only ever about you. All I ever wanted was the smart-mouthed girl who quoted Great Gatsby in a world where everyone else quoted Nickelback.”

I laugh. “Can I at least call you Principal Hawthorne next time?”

“No.”

“What if it accidentally slips out?” I fight a giggle. “Are you going to punish me? Put me in detention? Oh! You could spank me with a ruler. That’d be kind of hot.”

Ford tries not to laugh. “All right, smart ass. Meet me in the shower in two minutes. I’m showing you the sights today. Thought we’d see the Kafka Museum first.”

“A man after my own heart.” I kiss him, my hand sliding up his muscled neck and stopping at his chiseled jaw. I’d let him take me all over again if he asked.

Ford climbs out of our bed, and I keep my gaze shamelessly trained on his exquisite derrière which officially belongs to me, a fact I’m content to bask in for the rest of my existence.