Page 136 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
Henry was silent for a second before he said, “This is cool and all, having your hair blow in my mouth, but maybe we can start moving again?”
“Yes, proceed.” I was still in the moment, pretending I was on the bow of a boat with Leonardo DiCaprio behind me.
“Just move my hips . . . with you, like that?”
“Yes, cue the thrusting.”
Awkwardly, Henry tried to move in and out of me while I balanced on his rickety legs, swaying back and forth, side to side, catching myself occasionally from slamming my head onto the desk next to us.
“This is a good time.” I could sense the annoyed tone in Henry’s voice.
“Thrust, Henry. Just thrust.”
Struggling, he said, “It’s hard to thrust when trying to balance a naked woman while I’m sitting in a desk chair that refuses to stay still.”
“Plant your feet. Are your feet planted?”
“Yes, they’re planted. If they weren’t planted, then I would probably be probing you on the ground right about now.”
“Hmm, maybe we’re doing it wrong. Let me check my Kindle.”
Before Henry could stop me, I leaned forward, grinding my butt against his lap. With my feet still hooked behind his calves, I balanced my body as I leaned forward, reaching for my Kindle. Just as I was about to reach it, Henry’s feet slipped off the ground, sending me flying onto the floor face first, ass up like an ostrich, and head buried under the rug in front of me.
If he wanted a good view of the great and powerful asshole, he got one.
From behind, I could hear Henry’s sexy laugh filter through the room, but instead of his chuckle making me all gooey inside like it normally would, it fueled the rage that was starting to boil inside me.
“Henry,” I screeched, trying to sit up, but failing miserably from being caught up in the tightly braided rug that cloaked me.
His laughter continued.
Struggling to find some dignity, I rolled on the ground until the rug canoodled me like a cocoon. Sporting the floor warmer tightly around my body, I lifted my chest and looked at my handsome boyfriend. There was a giant smile decorating his face and an adoring look in his eyes. Damn him!
“This isn’t funny,” I snapped, trying to show my disappointment.
“It kind of is,” he said, falling to the ground with me.
Naked parts were flying around all over the place.
“You didn’t take me seriously enough. You have to take me seriously if our experiments are going to work.” I pouted, pulling the rug ends closer together to cover my exposed nakedness.
Henry placed his hand on my face and forced me to look at him. “Love, any time I’m with you, I take it seriously. Do you know why?”
He was trying to sweet talk me . . .
I played with the tassels on my rug, trying to avoid eye contact. “Because you like to fornicate?”
“No.” He laughed. “Because I’ve spent so much time waiting for the moment when I could finally call you mine, that now I make sure to cherish every fucking moment I have with you. I never want to be apart from you again.”
Yup, you guessed it, butterflies took flight in my stomach. He was really good at the sweet talking.
“Man, you sure know how to make a girl feel good about herself, even after she went all ostrich on you moments before.”
“I liked the ostrich.” He chuckled. “Got a great view. Maybe instead of trying to emulate a scene in a book, we can make our own material?”
I cringed. “The ostrich is not something I find appealing.”
“And The Titanic is?”
