Rita’s POV

“Twenty minutes,” I whispered, staring at the glowing screen of his phone. “Fredrick, they’re twenty minutes away.”

He did not move at first. His come was still warm between my thighs, sliding down my skin onto the sheets. My heart slammed so hard I could feel it in my throat. The living room still held every piece of clothing we had stripped off earlier. The couch cushions were probably still damp from how hard I had come on his mouth.

Fredrick’s eyes met mine. The conflict was there, raw and real, but so was the hunger that had not burned out yet. He tossed the phone onto the...