ASHLEY NICOLE AMORES
The next morning, I woke up to the sunlight and the weight of Zandro's arm on my stomach.
"Ugh, still clinging to me," I muttered under my breath, gently pushing his arm away.
I managed to get out of bed and went to the bathroom to shower and get dressed. It was already 6:00 AM, so I decided to make pancakes.
There were plenty of supplies and ingredients in the kitchen, so I whipped up a batch and poured myself a glass of milk. I took the breakfast up to Zandro's room, only to find him fast asleep, cuddling a pillow.
I set the food on the nightstand and tried to wake him up.
"Zandro, wake up! Zandro, wake up!" I called out, shaking him gently. He finally sat up, and wow, he was so handsome!
His hair was messy, his long-sleeved shirt was unbuttoned, and his features were strikingâthose piercing grey eyes, long lashes, and kissable lips... I felt myself getting flustered.
"Hey! Stop staring at me, I know I'm handsome," he said, winking. I rolled my eyes. He was so cocky.
"Just eat," I said, annoyed. "I shouldn't have even bothered making you breakfast."
He laughed and started to eat, but I noticed he was blushing and scratching his neck after taking a sip of milk.
"Ugh, you're allergic to milk, and you didn't even tell me!" I thought, exasperated. "I'm going to kick your butt."
I called the doctor, set the milk aside, and went back to Zandro. He was itching all over. The doctor arrived soon after. I was worried about him, but I didn't let it show.
I left the room, feeling guilty. Maybe he'd forced himself to drink the milk out of consideration for me. Ugh, he was so sweet. And why was I blushing? He was just having an allergic reaction!
While I sat on the terrace, the doctor came out.
"Hello, ma'am. Your husband is fine now. Just give him this medicine," she said, handing me a prescription.
"Thank you. I'll take my leave now," she said. I nodded and went inside to get some chocolate coffee for Zandro. It was my fault he'd had milk.
I was so relieved he was okay. If he'd died, it would have been on my conscience. And then who would I be able to flirt with?
I went back to his room and found him asleep. I sat down beside him and started to sip my coffee. I couldn't help but look at his lips. They seemed to be whispering, "Kiss me, Ash." Oh, no, I couldn't. He'd think I was so forward.
I took another sip of coffee, but I didn't swallow it. Maybe he was thirsty, so I used my lips to feed him the coffee. He drank it, and our lips brushed. He opened his eyes.
He kissed me passionately, his hands holding mine above my head. I tried to resist, but my resistance faded as his kisses trailed down my neck. I unbuttoned his shirt, and soon, we were both naked.
His touch sent shivers through me. His movements were intense, and I cried out, but he silenced me with another kiss.
The experience was both painful and pleasurable. He finished twice, and I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. I fell asleep in his arms, still feeling his presence within me.
I woke up to pain, the lingering effects of our intimacy. As I moved, I winced, clutching the bedsheets.
TO BE CONTINUED