Truly Madly Deeply: A Grumpy x Sunshine Romance (Forbidden Love Book 1)

“Truly Madly Deeply”—Savage Garden

I was fully prepared to give Row the best blow job to be recorded in the history of humanity.

There was only one problem.

Okay, two, if you consider the Guinness World Record people never actually timed blow jobs for their books.

Row fell asleep like a sack of bricks not even a minute after he made that sexy declaration. I went to the bathroom to pee, and when I came back, the cigarette was in the ashtray, still not put out all the way. He was snoring, his cheek smushed against a pillow, his long, curly lashes casting a shadow over his cheeks.

Hello, awkward, my old friend.

I put out the cigarette and emptied the ashtray, then slipped into the bed and turned my head to his nightstand. The clock said it was three in the morning. He’d had a long day. So had I. But since not getting sleep was my new norm, I hardly ever felt tired anymore.

It was time to do the walk of shame. If I still had any muscles in me, that was. That orgasm had sucked the energy right out of me. If this was an appetizer, Row was right: full-blown sex with him would leave me in a puddle of bodily fluids and a tattoo neck choker.

Dylan would have a field day delivering the obituary.

She died doing what she loved—fucking my older brother.

But she was wrong. Privately, I knew, Row had never been just my best friend’s older brother. He was the boy I’d confessed to that I had never learned how to slow dance before prom. It had been in his kitchen, while Dylan was upstairs making out with Darren from the lacrosse team. I had been supposed to distract Row by talking to him. Row had regarded me with a frown, arm still slung on the open fridge door. “You don’t need to know how to slow dance. Boys are assholes and you should stay away from them.”

I had given him a pointed look. He’d rolled his eyes in exasperation, slamming the fridge shut and rummaging in his front pocket for his phone. “It’s really not that hard.” He had scowled, choosing a song. “Truly Madly Deeply” by Savage Garden. My all-time favorite nineties song. I had thought it was a coincidence. Kismet. He’d tossed his phone on the table and opened his arms. “Come in.”

Entering his embrace had been like walking straight into home. He’d slung my arms around his shoulders—I’d had to stand on my toes to get there—and wrapped his hands around my waist. We’d swayed to the music, staring into each other’s eyes, and in that moment, he had broken my heart. Because I had known I would never experience anything remotely as perfect ever again.

Now, I gingerly scooted toward the edge of the bed. As soon as I moved an inch, Row’s heavy arm fell directly on my chest like a tree, pinning me in place. That thing was at least five hundred pounds before the fancy Rolex. I exhaled, toying with the idea of waking him up. But he looked so peaceful and tranquil. Almost childlike.

I patted the nightstand behind me blindly, grabbed my phone, and texted my mom that I was okay, alive, and sleeping at the inn, then put my phone down. I was fully prepared to stare at the ceiling until dawn.

Blinking back at the darkness, I began sailing down the river of my thoughts. But something about Row’s deep, calm breaths, the weight of his arm against my chest like a heavy blanket, and the way I felt just right—like I was exactly where I was supposed to be—stopped me from overthinking.

Then, something truly wonderful happened. A switch flicked in my head. Something shifted in my chemistry.

And for the first time in a long time, I fell asleep.

Rays of winter sunshine filtered through the windows.

But they weren’t what woke me up. No. That was Row’s snoring.

I rolled to my side, eyeing him. Joy spread across my chest, filling it with giddiness. His arm no longer imprisoned me. It was now tossed over his eyes, blocking the sunlight from his face.

“I’ve been dreaming about your glittery pink lipstick smeared all over my dick.”

I took it as consent. It was time to return a favor.

I reached for my pants on the floor and rummaged through the pockets, producing my Juicy Tubes gloss. I always kept one with me. You never knew when you needed to look fabulous. I applied a generous coat, smacking my lips together. I ran my fingers through my hair before flinging the duvet off him. His black sweatpants displayed his morning wood, and my mouth watered at the idea of him filling it.

I peeled his sweatpants down an inch, glancing up to check if he stirred. He was still dead to the world. I inched his pants farther down. His dick sprung out. As far as penises went, this one was gorgeous enough to be on the cover of GQ, wearing a cowboy hat and a serious frown. It had a smooth crown, a long, veiny shaft, and just the right amount of trimmed groin hair.

I wrapped my fingers around the root, licking my lips. He smelled earthy, warm, and delicious. Dry cum covered his tip from last night. His cock jutted in my hand, awakened by the sudden intrusion.

Leaning forward on my knees, I took his tip in my mouth and suckled softly, the smell of my lip gloss filling the air. I swept my tongue across the tip, scooping up fresh, salty precum, before taking his entire crown in my mouth and sucking hard.

A sharp intake of breath filled the room, and his thighs jerked forward with a pained hiss. “Dot?” he croaked.

My head shot up. Sleepy, gorgeous golden eyes stared back at me.

“Who else? Do not say Allison, I have your dick in my hand.”

His chest rumbled, and he sent a hand to stroke the nape of my neck. “Jealous?”

“Should I be?”

He shook his head. “Whether it’s to have sex, go to a funeral, or start a heist, I’d always choose you over anyone else.”

“Why?” I probed.

“Because you’re it.” He flashed me a sexy grin.

“What’s it?”

“Everything, baby.”

My heart was drumming so fast and hard, I became a little nauseous.

“You’re just saying that because my teeth are very close to your phallus.”

“I’m saying that because it’s the unfortunate, infuriating truth.” Row brushed my hair from my face with his thumb. “And because I really want you to keep doing what you’re doing, not that I’m not enjoying the conversation.”

I tucked my hair behind my ears and dove down, taking his penis in my mouth again. The tip was engorged, almost purple, a pearl of cum on its edge. His shaft was thick and long, veins running through the tan, velvety skin. I could feel his eyes on the crown of my head, and his thick, briny precum coating the walls of my mouth. Heat flooded my insides, and I started rolling my hips, humping against nothing as I curled my fingers around his shaft, taking him deeper into my mouth. I held my breath to tame my gag reflex when his tip brushed the back of my throat, feeling my eyes water as I made delighted noises, sucking him off. It felt so good to please him. I didn’t know why, but making him happy was the biggest turn-on I’d ever experienced.

Row kept stroking my hair, his voice ragged and strained. “Fuck. Dot, what are you doing to me?”

Nothing in comparison to what you’re doing to me.

I was a novelty, but him? He was magic.

Only one of us had a fulfilling, glamorous, and exciting life to return to when this was all over. All I had to show for myself was disabling social anxiety, a fear of men, a shoebox apartment, and unresolved issues.

Trying to focus on the here and now, I curled my tongue into the shape of his shaft, licking him like a lollipop, jerking him off while swirling the tip of my tongue around his crown. He grabbed my hair from the back, twisting its length around his fist like the reins of a horse, and tipped my chin up just so, making his shaft grind against the roof of my mouth as he began fucking it mercilessly. “Is your little cunt aching for me, baby?”

I nodded eagerly, my jaw straining as the tip of his cock hit the back of my throat with each thrust. He picked up speed.

“Is it dripping for me?”

Another nod. Hell yes, it was. My head was spinning, I was so drunk with desire.

“Can I check for myself?”

Tears prickled my eyes as he pounded harder and faster into my mouth, pressing to the hilt. He was an aggressive lover, and I liked that he didn’t treat me like a fragile little thing. Like damaged goods. I nodded eagerly.

He kept one hand holding my hair in a death grip and continued fucking my mouth as he reached past my breasts, giving them an appreciative squeeze before gliding his big, tough hand down my belly. When he reached my legs, he slapped my knees open so I was spread as wide as I could be in this position. Curling three fingers, he brushed them along my pink, dripping pussy. Oh God. I was going to combust.

“Fuck. Maybe you can take it this time like a good girl. What do you say?” He picked up more speed, and it felt incredible, him in my mouth, his fingers in my pussy, filling me everywhere. Well, almost everywhere.

As if reading my mind, a low rumble trembled through his abs. “Are you gonna come just from sucking me off, Dot?”

I looked up, pinning my tear-filled gaze on him, and nodded. I could. I really could.

He removed his hand from my pussy and used it to trace the edges of my jaw gently, still fucking my mouth. “May I play with your ass, sweetheart?”

I gurgled the saliva and precum in my mouth as an answer, gathering my breasts in my hands and using them to massage his balls with a small nod. I writhed, empty and desperate for my own release, grinding against the flat surface of his mattress.

Please. Please help me. I need this. I need to come.

“I got you, Dot.” He grabbed me by the ankles, scooting me closer so my face was in his crotch, still sucking him off, while he grabbed one of my ass cheeks in one hand and slipped his index and middle finger into my pussy with the other, and fit a pinky into my tight hole. He began playing with me, the slurping sounds my body made filling the room. A spasm volleyed through me, and I cried out, choking on my own saliva and his cock, stars twinkling underneath my eyelids as ripple after ripple of an orgasm washed through me. What was happening? Since when was I a sexually liberated woman who loved to suck cock and get her ass fingered? What was this man doing to me?

“Gonna come now, baby,” Row said huskily, wrapping my hair around his fist and tilting my head up to pull me off him.

I stayed glued to his dick, nodding my head. “Go for it.”

“You mean…?”

I nodded, not ready to part ways with his cock.

He grunted. “Shit, I knew you were perfect. Perfect.” He thrust into my mouth. “Perfect.”

With this praise, he came undone. A flood of hot, thick cum rushed into my mouth. I swallowed every drop, closing my eyes with his hand clasping the back of my head, his entire body shuddering. When the trembling subsided, I looked up at him.

“Row?”

“Yes, Dot?”

“Your dick is covered in my lip gloss.”

He sat up straight, this smooth, large Adonis of a man. He looked down at his cock—still half-hard—and the pink, glittery smears around it, and smiled. “I think I might skip my shower today.”

“Bad idea. Here.” I rolled his sweatpants back on, tucking my lip gloss into his waistband. “Just put some on your dick instead of lube next time you feel horny.”

His hand clasped mine before I could remove it from his waistband. “Next time I feel horny, I know who to call.”

Calm your tits, and the organ beating wildly behind them, Cal. You cannot afford to fall in love. Last time you opened up to Franco, he detonated your life.

“So.” I licked my lips. “Now that we’re done with third base, I guess it’s time for…” I trailed off, raising my eyebrows meaningfully.

“Our morning jog,” he finished for me, jerking his head sideways, to the clock. “Almost seven. Better hurry up.”

“I was thinking about doing a different kind of cardio.” I cleared my throat.

“I’ve been thinking about that kind of cardio with you since I learned my dick is good for more than just peeing. Are you sure you’re ready, though?”

I loved that he asked. Loved that he was considerate and, at the same time, still treated me like a sex kitten and not some fragile, little ditzy girl while we were intimate. “I’m ready,” I said.

He grabbed the back of my neck, tugging me forward to plant a kiss on my lips. “Now let’s fuck the attitude you gave me this past month out of you. Be a good girl and go bend—”

A rap on the door cut him off.

Noooooooooooooo.

“Casablancas!” Gertie’s voice screeched. “Cleaning’s in ten minutes. You better get your ass outta there by then, or you’ll have to wait until after the weekend.”

“Did you not see the Do Not Disturb sign on my door?” he called out, tucking me under his arm protectively, like she had caught us. Such a stark difference from how Franco had treated me. My heart crumbled like a cookie.

“Sure did,” she confirmed. “Ruining your day is my only source of joy these days, seeing as your little deal is about to run me out of business. Eight minutes now.”

There was a thump, indicating the woman had left. Row and I looked at each other for a beat. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ll last more than ten seconds once I’m inside you, but preferably, I’d like more than eight minutes to make sure you come too.”

“Fine, we’ll jog.” I pouted.

He kissed my puckered lips. “That’s my girl.”