His smile widens. “Say it, Naomi. Ask me for it.”
“Please put your cock inside me. Fuck me raw, Jason.”
He slides the tip of his cock back up my thigh to part my lips, inching back and forth along my slit, just the tip of his cock inside me now. Already I can feel my juices coating his tip. Damn, I am so fucking wet. He always does this to me. Leaves me soaking wet, so damn eager for him. My knees tremble, and it’s all I can do to grip the sink tightly enough to keep myself upright and standing.
He arches his hips forward, sliding his cock up to my entrance, the tip poised right at the edge. “Ask me again, Naomi.”
“Please, fuck me,” I repeat.
“Louder,” he says, grinning.
My heart skips a beat. I know there could be people outside the bathroom who might hear us. They’d know we’re locked in here, and exactly what we’re doing inside. But he’s right. Somehow, the thought of that, of someone overhearing, does make it hotter. “Fuck me, Jason, please fuck me, right here.” I’m still speaking when he thrusts his hips forward, driving his cock into me, my lips spreading wide to take him in. My voice turns to a soft cry, as he grips my hips tightly in his fists and uses them to hold himself steady as he rocks back, pitches forward again, a few times, until his cock is buried deep inside me, stretching my walls around him.
“God you feel fucking amazing,” he hisses through gritted teeth.
“So do you,” I moan, reaching back with one hand to grip his ass tightly, trying to pull him farther forward, deeper into me. I moan again as he starts to withdraw, already missing that sensation, longing to feel it again, how stuffed and full I am when he’s inside me. I don’t have to wait long. He thrusts back into me, then pulls out again, thrusts in once more. Slowly, he starts to build up a rhythm.
I give as good as I get, arching my back to thrust my hips back into his, my hands tight around the sink, my moans getting louder, faster, as I near a peak. He starts to breathe harder, gripping my hips hard enough to leave marks with his fingers as he drives into me again and again.
“Fuck, Naomi,” he groans, through gritted teeth. “Come for me, dirty girl, come for me.”
“I’m so close,” I gasp, arching my back, driving back against him, trying to obey. He angles his cock down inside me, and I moan at the shift, the way it adds pressure inside me. It doesn’t take long before I’m right at the edge, trembling. “Fuck, fuck, I’m going to come,” I hear myself practically shouting this time, but I don’t care. I cry out with sheer pleasure as the orgasm hits, my whole body shaking.
Jason just keeps fucking me, hard and fast, his body tensing. I know him well enough by now to sense the tremble in his hips, the jump of his cock inside me. I clench my pussy hard around him and I’m rewarded when he groans, low and harsh against my ear, the sound almost a growl, as he comes inside me. There’s a warm rush as his cum coats the inside of my pussy, and another rush as he pulls out of me, and our mingled juices drip down my leg.
He spins me in his arms, pulls me against him to kiss me, slow and deep, then slides his mouth down the side of my neck, kissing me everywhere he can reach, his arms tight around me, his hands roaming everywhere. When we finally break apart, we’re both breathless, catching one another’s eyes with laughter in our gazes.
Just then, we hear the knock at the door, and we both freeze.
“Just to let you know, these walls are not completely sound-proof,” comes a voice I recognize. The concierge. We exchange embarrassed grins, my cheeks flushed bright red, and I let out a little huff of laughter.
“Sorry,” I blurt, at the same moment that Jason says, “I’m not sure what you mean.”
So much for subtle. My whole face flames now. He smirks at me, as I speedily get dressed. When we open the door, I speed past the concierge, my head down, face burning, as I beeline for the elevator and press the call button.
But when I turn around to see if Jason is following me, I notice the concierge smiling good-naturedly, watching us with a knowing grin, even as Jason tucks a hefty tip into his palm. We barely manage to wait until the elevator doors slide shut behind us, before we burst into laughter, and Jason sweeps me into his arms, lifting me off my feet to spin me around.
“Next time,” he promises with a kiss on the top of my head as he deposits me back on my feet. “We’re going to have to get you a gag.”
I snort and arch an eyebrow at the same moment. “I’m sorry. Next time?” I shake my head, grinning. But I can’t deny the fission of pleasure that shoots through me, all the way down to my toes that curl in my shoes, thinking about it. Next time. I like the way he said that, so easy, so casual. We aren’t rushing into anything—I know Monica is right, and that I need to be careful about diving into anything serious too soon too fast this time. But it’s nice to have that easy reassurance. There will be a next time. And, hopefully, a time after that, and another one after that. As for the rest of it? Well, we’ll figure it out as we go.
Now that we’ve cleared Jason’s and his sister’s names, and now that I know the full truth behind him and how this whole mess began, well… Now we’ve got all the time in the world.
16
JASON
One Year Later
I hide the flowers behind my back as I take the steps two at a time. Up to the little brownstone house that she moved into just a few weeks after we started dating, when she finally decided she was sick of staying cramped in that little hotel room—although, not going to lie, we made a lot of good memories in that hotel room.
And in that hotel lobby bathroom. And in the hotel pool, which we snuck into late at night. And on the roof, which a security guard left unlocked one night… And that’s not even mentioning the hotel bar, where we tucked ourselves into a dark, cozy little corner with a long tablecloth concealing it, and I fingered her until she begged me to let her come. I wound up having to break a wine glass to cover up the sound of her cry, and even then, to judge by the smirks the bartender shot our way, I’m not entirely sure nobody noticed.
When we finally sat down to talk, pretty soon after all the bullshit went down with Mrs. Randall—after we realized this was more than just a hookup, and both of us felt there was a lot more between us than just a good time—we’ve been moving slow. No rushing into anything headlong. Naomi asked me if I was all right with that, and of course I understood why. After her last relationship, Naomi got burned. She’s smart to want to take things slower this time around and see how things develop naturally.
That’s just how it’s felt, this whole time. Completely natural. From the moment we met, I knew there was something different about Naomi, something I didn’t want to lose hold of. Apparently, despite her misgivings about the timing, us meeting right after her divorce, not to mention the circumstances of our meeting, which were weird enough that they would have given anyone a long pause… Naomi saw something unique here with me, too. And I’ve spent every day in the last year since we met trying to prove to her that she’s right. This is unique, special. Worth fighting for.
Which is why I spent most of the morning sneaking into the back of the flower shop with Monica, Naomi’s best friend, who helped me pick out the perfect bouquet for her. Monica knows every single flower Naomi loves, even the expensive, rare ones that the shop is hardly ever able to keep in stock for long. She set aside a special pile for me, and then Monica even helped me make up the bouquet for Naomi myself—with a little help from Becca, of course.
A pile of Chinese takeout food from our favorite spot, and some of Naomi’s favorite cupcakes for dessert round out the whole effect. Now, it’s just time to sneak in and set things up before she gets home from work. Monica promised she’d stall Naomi at the shop and keep her as late as she possibly can, which definitely helps.
It also helps that a couple of months ago, Naomi gave me a copy of her keys. “It seems silly to have to coordinate every time you want to come over,” she said, and I couldn’t agree more. After all, I’d already given
her a set to my apartment, a tiny little space near the hospital, months earlier. But my apartment wasn’t our favorite spot. It was a real bachelor pad, honestly—when I bought it, I hadn’t envisioned meeting someone like Naomi.
Then again, how could I possibly have prepared myself for meeting her? I never really imagined I would meet a girl like this, who I can’t keep out of my thoughts, who I want nothing more than to spoil and tease for the rest of my life. Even now, a year after we started dating, she still occupies my every fantasy—plenty of which we’ve had the chance to act out by now, since she has almost as filthy a mind as I do.