Saturday faded into Sunday, and with the new dawn, a dose of reality began to intrude into our perfect weekend escape. I’d eventually made my way down to my Jeep, but all the spare condoms I’d had in my glove compartment ran out that morning after I woke Reese to a full-body massage.
Panting and sweating, I rolled off her and stared dazedly up at the ceiling, trying to get my pulse to settle.
Next to me, Reese blew out a breath and wiped her hair out of her face. “Wow. That just never gets old.”
I lolled my head to the side so I could look at her. Still naked with her breasts flushed once again from my beard burn, I realized… We were going to need more condoms. Possibly more food.
Staples for the survival of a weekend of marathon s*x: condoms and food.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I said,
