Roomie Wars Box Set

Running my fingers along her lips, she bites down before tightening up around my dick and letting out a long-winded moan. I can’t hold back any longer, my willpower disappearing the moment she explodes all over me.

My normally aggressive thrust is controlled, the slow, agonizing pace making me blow so quickly I’m barely able to breathe.

Our pants, loud and consuming, echo in our quiet room.

“That was amazing.”

I kiss the tip of her shoulder. “It always is with you.”

Zoey releases a loud sigh, smiling contently as we both lay quietly.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asks, grinning.

“Round two?”

Her laughter ripples, breaking out into an unwarranted cough. “Such an optimistic husband you are. I was thinking of something naughtier…”

“Naughtier than my dick inside you?”

She nods, giggling. “Yep… room service.”

Chapter Seven

Zoey

Whoever invented babymooning is a genius.

After spending the afternoon in bed and experiencing a long-overdue orgasm, we order room service and spend the remainder of the night in our room.

I don’t hold back when it comes to ordering—hot wings, fries, double-stacked burger, and a bunch of healthy crap for Drew. It works wonders, knocking me out for hours for the longest nonstop sleep I’ve had in months.

Four hours. Until the babies played hacky-sack on my bladder.

Drew booked our stay for two nights. Between his hectic schedule and back-to-back surgeries and my insane workload due to wrapping up some major projects, we both jumped at the chance for this mini-getaway.

At thirty-four weeks, time is of the essence. The obstetrician warned me that the twins can come earlier, so in a panic I did something I normally wouldn’t do—I made a list of everything I need to do or achieve before the babies arrive. The list is three pages long, and I only manage to cross off four things.

“Show me the list.” Drew took the list out of my hand. “Scrub bathtub. Really, Zo?”

“Yes, where are we going to bathe the babies?”

“You can cross it off your list since I scrub the bathtub weekly.”

“You do?” Shocked, I grab the list from him scanning for similar tasks. “What about cleaning the back of the fridge? The amount of dirt that builds up behind there is quite sickening.”

Drew places his hands on his face, groaning in frustration. “You’ve known me for what? Over five years? Give me a break.”

I nod, running the pen along the words ‘clean behind fridge’ to cross it off.

“Now, stop fixating on that list, and let’s get out of this room.”

After checking out some brochures which the resort kindly left in our room, we decide to head out and visit a local gallery, followed by lunch at this gorgeous café in the gallery gardens, and then window shopping at some antique shops. Drew never complains allowing me to browse through the stores as he keeps himself busy chatting with the shop assistants. The man can talk about anything. It always amazes me how he can strike up a conversation with a random stranger. He’s like a walking encyclopedia.

As much as shopping is fun, and there are a couple of pieces that piqued my interest, my head isn’t entirely in it. I don’t last long these days, the exhaustion setting in after two hours of walking around. By the time we get back to the room, I decide to take a nap while Drew hits the gym.

Dozing in and out of sleep, the mattress suddenly becomes uncomfortable—my back aching in this one particular spot. When I finally get settled, my heartburn kicks in, forcing me to sit up and take some non-medicated tablets.

I’m done.