Chapter 207 - How The Song Ends *

"You shouldn't have." He grinned and slid his hand to her waist. He gripped her tightly as he pulled her towards him, thrusting deep inside her. They m.o.a.ned in unison as she tightened around him in the premonition of her orgasm.

"I'll never do it again," he swore, their bodies coming together faster. His fingers dug into her h.i.p.s and he guided her on his c.o.c.k, their rhythm just right, just like his song before. She threw her head back and arched against him, her chest pressing against his as she took him inside her over and over again.

His left hand left her h.i.p.s and moved down to gently strum her clit. Her breath hitched as she rode him harder. The sound of slick skin slapping and sliding filled the room. When she came, she cried his name in delight, milking him for all he was worth.

Unable to handle the tightness of her walls, he came with one last thrust into her, releasing himself deep within her with a sigh.

They gasped for breath as they came down from their high. His arms tightened around her as she slumped against his chest, exhausted from their rendezvous. He stroked his hair gently, taking the comment to calm down her nerves, their bodies still connected, his softening c.o.c.k still inside her. She kissed his cheek sweetly and smiled as she mumbled a quick thank you.

"I think I got what I wanted," he said with a smirk.

"S.e.x?" she chuckled.

"No. I know how this song ends." His gaze was brilliant.

"Well, then. I'll leave you to it." Her legs shook as she tried to stand up and dislodge him. After a few moments of struggle, she finally succeeded. She swung her h.i.p.s as she left the room, giving him a nice view of her ass.

He shook his head and then turned to the piano. This time, the music came to him instantly.

- - -

Angelina woke up to find herself in an extremely comfortable mattress. She floated on the cottony cloud, experiencing heaven for the first time. But when she opened her eyes, she was assaulted by the brilliant light from the nearby window.

historical

Her mind was slow to work. She wondered where she was. Her mind eventually caught up and she remembered that she was on vacation with her friends at the cabin. They had come last afternoon.

Feeling content, she reached over to the bedside table and grabbed her phone. She dialed Lily's number, knowing that Katherine would never pick her phone up. It rang until the end and she cut the call, feeling frustrated. This was unlike her friends but she had also never gone on vacation with them and brought along the boyfriends. Maybe she would be the only one who got no action during this period.

Not if she had a hand in the situation.

She decided that she would call after breakfast and if they still didn't pick up, she would just go knocking on their doors. She recalled the eggs she had put in the refrigerator and knew that she was craving a fluffy omelet. She didn't recall having cheese, but she was sure they had tomatoes.

She pondered what type of omelet she should make (considering that it was one of the only things she could cook), still wearing the clothes from last night... butt shorts and a tank top. It was early in the morning, so she didn't expect Stephen to wake up, which is why she scampered towards the kitchen without further ado.

From the kitchen window, she could see the beautiful scenery and sighed. She reached for the fancy radio on the kitchen counter and turned it on, followed by rummaging through ingredients for breakfast. She loved cooking but she was only good at creating simple dishes. It was something about all the raw ingredients coming together to make one great dish just satisfied her. If only they turned out delicious. Breakfast was, by far, her favorite meal. When she was at home, she always insisted on making breakfast for her parents.

Her mom was hopeless in the kitchen. The best thing she could cook was probably heating frozen meals. She even remembered a time when her mother put the packaged meal without removing the plastic and it had turned into a disaster. I was a wonder that she hadn't died of starvation as a child.

Her father was just as hopeless. He kept to himself and he could cook some meals. Most of the time, it was their household helper who did the cooking.

She cracked the eggs open and released the yolk into a glass bowl, mixing in some tomatoes and cheese. She added in a little milk to make it fluffier before whisking and mixing it all together. She flicked her wrist to stir with the beat of the music, swaying her h.i.p.s a little. She was definitely not a good dancer and only knew some moves that would help her on the runway.

When the mixture was ready, she searched for the frying pan. She should have done this before. She leaned down, looking at the cabinets, trying to find it. She was bent at the waist to retrieve it when she stopped short. She had heard a quiet gasp behind her.

- - -

When Stephen woke up, the first thing he felt was the chill in the room. Despite the light from the window, the room was cold. He was susceptible to it and grumbled because he had forgotten to switch on the thermostat.

Instead of stretching out his time in bed, he wanted to get up and see what would happen today. He had slept in the same building as Angelina and he couldn't hold his excitement in. He jumped up and landed on the cold floor.

He stopped short when he saw his reflection. He looked at himself critically in the mirror. In his sweatpants and old T-shirt, he didn't look indecent but it was definitely more casual than he was used to looking around people. He supposed it would be okay to slum around in these clothes in the house.