I got a real kick out of the readers, particularly the real fans, the ones that knew my books better than I did, but I always got a strange but powerful case of nerves right before a signing.
Having Ro on hand was helpful with that.
Our first stop was a bookstore signing in New York.
We checked into the hotel and the second the bellhop left our room, I was on her. It had been a long flight of teasing touches, and I’d had plenty of time to think of just how I needed to get my fix.
I stripped us both down, had her grip the back of a chair, and admired the picture her nubile young self made in that position, arching for me so prettily.
I pressed my chest against her back, my throbbing erecting prodding against the meat of her butt.
I made her spread her legs farther, and bent my knees, pushing my cock between her legs, rubbing my swollen head up and down her slick entrance, finding her cleft and breeching. When my tip was in, I shoved, propelling myself deep.
I held her in place with my open palms, mouth moving over her shoulders, hands stroking down the graceful arch of her spine.
I palmed one bouncy tit, the other hand getting to her clit with a purpose. I was in a rush. I got her off fast before really unleashing on her perfect, tiny body.
I had both her wrists in my hands as I pumped into her from behind, pounding in and out with hard, jarring thrusts.
It was so good. So. Fucking. Good. As I drew closer I got rougher, lost myself a bit, though Ro never seemed to mind. I plowed deep and came with a shout and held myself there, grinding her on the base of my cock, my tip jarring into her cervix. I kissed all over her back and shoulders as we caught our breath, my hands on her breasts, handling them with ownership and possession. I sucked at the side of her neck and said, “I missed this.”
She choked out a breathless laugh. “We had sex last night.”
“That was many hours ago, cupcake. We didn’t even get a morning round in, that damned flight was so early.”
We got a chance to sightsee a bit around the city, though not as much as I would have liked since Ro had never been to Manhattan before. We’d have to come back so I could give her the full tour.
We were exploring around Rockefeller Center when Ro stopped in her tracks.
I followed her rather obvious stare to watch a cute old couple embracing, cheek to cheek, their faces full of peaceful adoration. They were doing some sort of old people shuffle that probably used to be dancing.
“That’s what I want,” she said quietly, her face full of earnest yearning. “All I want is to have someone kiss me like that. Hold me like that. Touch me like that.”
After that little speech, I studied the old couple like they were my direct competition. “They’re fine, I guess. Not that adorable. We’re cuter than them, to be honest.”
“I’m not talking about us; I’m talking about what I want for the long haul. What I expect when I find the one. I want that cute couple cuddling in public at eighty love. That’s not you.”
That more than stung, even if it was true. Especially then. “Who says?” I asked. Just to be contrary, I told myself. “Don’t put me in a box. It’s provoking.”
“Please,” she said with an eye roll, “you don’t subscribe to romantic love even existing, let alone a lifetime of it.”
“Fair point. I can kiss and hold and touch you any way and anywhere you want, though, which was your original point.”
“You don’t get it. It’s not the actions themselves, it’s the feeling behind it, and the longevity of those feelings.”
I was beginning to understand that very thing, so much so it was beginning to frighten me.
What I said though, was, “I’ll show you some longevity as soon as we get back to the room, cupcake. As much as you can handle, and I promise you will feel it. Every single inch.”
I gave her a wolfish grin and she smiled gamely, letting me ruin the serious moment, as usual.
She assisted me at the signing, always knowing what I needed before I did. Absolutely everything was better with her around. I knew before five minutes into the event that I’d never do another signing without her.
About halfway through she snuck me a glass of Scotch in a coffee cup that said, This might be wine.
When I realized what was in the cup, I sought her out with my eyes and raised my brows.
She moved close behind me to whisper in my ear. “You have this certain look you get. I call it your Scotch face. You were wearing it so I scrounged up some Scotch. Not the good stuff, but you’ll survive, muffin.”
“You complete me,” I told her solemnly, not looking back at her, not needing to, instead signing yet another book.
“That’s obvious.”
We flew to Philadelphia the next day and went through a similar routine.
We traveled well together. I was seasoned at it, and Ro, though she hadn’t traveled much, was no complainer and every delay and setback was taken in stride.
Every day Dair sent us pictures of Machiavelli being hugged by his adorable kids.
Me: No matter what happens,
you don’t get to keep our puppy.
Dair: That’s true but after
playing with this puppy for a week
I’m pretty sure we’re going to
have to get the kids another one.
Me: Be sure to do
yourself a favor and get
an actual dog and not a
Beanie Baby like we did.
Ro saw that text when I was showing her the latest pictures of Mac and smacked me on the arm.
“Are you offended on behalf of our Beanie Baby?” I asked her, amused.
“I am. You’re her daddy, have some loyalty.”
It was evening and we were in a hotel room, lounging on the bed. I grabbed her and pinned her underneath me. My words were a rasp into her ear. “Call me Daddy again, but this time in your phone voice.”
She giggled, and my switch was flipped.
I dragged her clothes off, talking all the while, telling her what I wanted her to say to me in her phone sex voice.
She just got quiet, shaking her head, not saying a word.
She didn’t speak to me until I was inside of her. Didn’t make a peep until I plugged her up tight.
I didn’t move once I was buried in her, just burrowed my root in hard and held myself there, feeling her, basking in my own little piece of paradise.
Her sex voice drifted to me in a soft, taunting drawl, “Get a move on, Daddy.”
The delirium took over, and I started moving with a purpose and didn’t stop until we were both a limp puddle of satiation.
Afterward, still inside her, I flipped us until she was settled on top of me, the weight of her heavy, bare breasts against my chest, rubbing her nipples against the overheated skin of my chest.
“I think we found a new kink for you,” Ro mused, tracing lazy circles around my nipple with her index finger.
“Not new. You could read the phone book to me in that voice and I’d come.”
In Seattle, I showed her the space needle. And tried to fuck us both into a coma.
I was sitting at our hotel room’s lone desk doing a phone interview when I caught sight of her coming out of the bathroom in a towel.
I covered the speaker and ordered, “Come and ride me, cupcake.”