PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT
LIBBY
“Morning, Princess.” Antonio greets me with a warm smile when I walk out of my bedroom still half-asleep.
When I woke up to my alarm and he wasn’t next to me, I was hit with an unexpected wave of disappointment. I thought he had taken off. Then I smelled bacon cooking, and I couldn’t get out of bed fast enough. I wanted to make sure that he was really here.
“Morning,” I say softly.
I scoop up Pool to give him a cuddle before I go to where Antonio’s standing—shirtless—in front of the stove. I tuck myself against his front, feeling his lips touch the top of my head as his arms give me a squeeze.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asks.
I tip my head back to look up at his handsome face and strong jaw, now covered in a thick layer of stubble.
I slept better than I have in two days. I don’t say that. Instead, I answer softly, “Yes.”
“You sore?” he asks gently.
I feel my cheeks get warm. “Not too bad.”
“I’ll get you some ibuprofen after you eat something.” His fingers slide up my throat, and his thumb and forefinger capture my chin and pull my head back so that he can touch his mouth to mine.
The kiss is soft and sweet, but it still leaves me feeling off-balance. When his mouth leaves mine, I have to once again force my eyes open.
“So . . .” I clear my throat. “What’s on your schedule today?” I let him go and step around him to get a cup of coffee.
“I need to go home to take care of some stuff, then I’m working tonight with you. I figured I’d pack a bag while I’m home. We can stay here after we close the shop—if that works for you.”
“It works for me,” I agree immediately.
He smiles.
I pour some creamer into my coffee, then add some sugar before hopping up onto the counter and taking a sip from my coffee cup.
“Where did you get bacon and eggs?” I ask him when he goes to the fridge and pulls out a carton of eggs that wasn’t there last night.
“I ran to the corner store when I got up,” he says, cracking two eggs into a pan. “You really do need to start eating more than takeout, Princess.”
“Takeout is easy when I’m working all the time. I don’t have to lug bags up here or cook. All I have to do is pick up my phone and dial a number to get whatever I want.”
“Yeah, but when your man wants to make you breakfast and all he has to work with is old pizza and Chinese food, it makes it kind of hard.”
My man? Holy cow, he’s mine . . . I mean, yes, I kind of knew that already. But hearing him call himself my man makes it real.
“What?” he asks, studying me.
“I . . . I guess it just really hit me that we’re together,” I admit.
His face softens.
“It’s weird after”—I pause to pull in a breath—“it’s weird after everything that has happened between us.”
Coming to where I’m standing, he forces my knees apart and wedges himself between my thighs. He takes hold of my face, gently, between his large palms.
“This is going to work,” he states, looking into my eyes. “I know with the way I treated you in the past I don’t deserve anything from you, but I need you to know that I’m all in. This is what I want. You are what I want. If I wasn’t sure about us, I would not have made love to you yesterday.”
“Okay,” I agree quietly. My chest starts to get warm, and my heart starts to fill with hope—and something else . . . something that’s a little scary to think about since this is so new.
“This is going to work,” he repeats, kissing me hard.
“This is going to work,” I agree when he pulls his mouth from mine.
He smiles before letting me go and turning back to the stove.
Watching him make us breakfast, all I can think is that I really hope he’s right. I really hope this works.
With tongue and teeth licking and nipping at Antonio’s neck, I pant for breath. I feel his hands roam over my backside and his cock thrust up into me. It’s been two weeks since we introduced sex into our relationship, and in that time, I’ve become a nympho.
“Fuck, but you feel good,” he groans as he uses his hold on my ass to lift me up and bring me down onto his length. “I want your mouth, Libby.”
I pull my mouth from his neck and look down at him, teasing his bottom lip with my tongue and watching up close as his eyes heat up and narrow.
“Give me your mouth.” He thrusts up hard, making me gasp, and I bite his bottom lip.
“Antonio,” I whimper in distress when he goes still inside me, holding the tip of his cock at my entrance. “Please don’t stop.”
“Give me what I want,” he orders. My pussy tightens. “Now, Libby,” he warns.
I slide my tongue into his mouth to toy with his. Pulling my back away from the wall, he carries me across the room and settles me on the top of the table in his kitchen, his mouth never leaving mine. I dig the heels of my feet into his back and slide my fingers down his spine to his ass, pulling him against me to tell him silently what I need.
When he pulls back and smirks at me, my pussy spasms again. “You want my cock?”
Ignoring the arrogant tone in his voice, I lift my head off the table and whisper, “Please.”
He doesn’t make me ask again. He slides out and then back in, hard. So hard that the table shakes.
“So tight. Christ . . .” He thrusts his tongue back into my mouth while his hand slides around my hip and his thumb rolls over my clit. “Your pussy is already trying to milk me,” he says, leaning back to look at where we’re connected. “I love watching you take me. I love feeling your pussy clutch me like it’s afraid my cock’s going to disappear.”
His eyes meet mine as the muscles in my lower belly start to get tight. Stars start to dance in my vision. “Oh god.”
“I feel it. Let go, Princess. I got you,” he says gruffly.
I give myself over to the feeling. The heels of my feet dig into his back, and my hold on him tightens as I come apart in his arms. His pace picks up as I come, and I listen to the sound of his orgasm when he follows me over the edge. He drops his forehead to my chest.
Breathing heavy, I wrap my arms around him and keep my legs tight around his hips. I’m not ready to lose our connection in any way.
“I like when you look all sweaty,” I whisper when my breath has stopped coming in short, choppy pants.
“I kinda got that. You jumped me as soon as I walked in the door.” He leans back to look at me, and I give him a pleased smile.
“I bet you gave at least ten women an impromptu orgasm when you were out on your run,” I say, running my fingers along the underside of his strong jaw.
“I only care about your orgasms.” He pushes my hair away from my face and studies me for a long moment before dropping his gaze to the top I have on. “I see you found another shirt. Are you keeping it, like all the others you’ve stolen?”
“It’s not stealing if you know I have them. And yes. I think this is my new favorite. It’s soft.”
“I like you wearing my shirt and nothing else around my place. And I really like the way you greeted me wearing nothing but my shirt. But can I ask how the hell you got so wet before I even touched you?”
“I got a glimpse of you out the window before you came in from your run. I was already turned on by the time you got upstairs,” I admit with a shrug and a laugh. “You’ve turned me into this,” I say.
I lose sight of his face when he drops his mouth down to mine for a deep kiss.
“You won’t be hearing me complain about that.” He lifts me off the table. “I need a shower.”
“Me, too. I’m all wet.”
Hearing him groan, I laugh as he carries me into the bathroom and sets me down so he can turn on the water. Pulling his T-shirt over my head, I don’t drop it in his clothes hamper. I take it to my overnight bag and shove it inside. I think I’ve taken one of his shirts each time I’ve stayed over at his place. I’m starting to get quite the collection.
“If you keep taking my shirts, I won’t have any to wear,” he tells me, tugging my hand and pulling me into the shower with him.
“You have a million shirts. It will take me forever to collect them all.” I smile as his hands start to roam over my skin with a bar of soap that smells like him. “Besides, when you’re working and I don’t get to sleep with you, I like having them to wear to bed at night,” I say.
He smiles softly before touching his lips to mine.
“You get me for two more nights.”
“I know.”
Last night was the first one he had off in about four days. I missed sleeping next to him, feeling him curled around me all night. Really, I just missed him. I’ve gotten more than a little used to having him around, waking up and having breakfast with him, working with him at the pizzeria in the evenings, then going home to his place or mine. It’s been nice—more than nice. It’s crazy how quickly we’ve fallen into a pattern of spending all our time together. He was right weeks ago: this thing between us is working out perfectly.
Well, I kind of still need to tell him about buying the shop. Every time I’ve attempted to bring it up, he shuts me down. So I just stopped bringing it up.
“Are you ready to have dinner with my parents tomorrow?” I ask him as I take the soap from his grasp and start to run it over the ridges and valleys of his abs.
“Yeah. I should ask you if you’re ready.”
“It will probably be horribly embarrassing, but I’m excited for you to meet Levi and Wesley. I think you guys will get along.” I look up at him and add, “My mom will probably hint at marriage and babies and all kinds of other things that are way too soon to talk about right now, so don’t freak out when that happens and run for the hills.”
“I won’t run. I’d like to remind you about my mother—it’s not like she hasn’t mentioned grandkids a few dozen times since we got together.”
“True.” Martina has clearly decided that since Antonio and I are together, we need to start popping out grandchildren—the sooner the better. “Our families are insane,” I mutter, dropping my eyes back to my hands as they roam over his smooth skin.
“They are,” he agrees as his fingers skim over my nipples. “That doesn’t mean we can’t do both our parents a favor and start practicing at making those grandkids for them,” he says.
My belly dips.
“Practice does make perfect,” I whisper against his lips when his mouth touches mine, and he smiles while he kisses me.
We spend the rest of the morning and afternoon practicing. By the time we’re done and we have to get to work at the pizzeria, I’m pretty sure we’re both pros.