I whimpered.
“And even if you don’t, you’ll do it because it pleases me.”
His mouth settled over me again, and white light leaked into the dark behind my eyelids. I bowed up and the images drifted from my mind. All that was left was Foster, in the dark, his tongue and fingers bringing me past the point of shame. A stadium could’ve been watching at the moment, and I probably wouldn’t have cared.
He sucked on my clit and moved a third finger inside me. My control splintered, and I cried out, bucking against the bindings and rocketing into the arc of release. He held on to me, his mouth working me with expert precision as I turned into some mindless, begging thing.
Then, as if attuned to my body in a way even I wasn’t, he slowly backed off, easing me down from the orgasm with soft touches and words until I stopped writhing. Then he was unhooking an ankle and a wrist and rolling me onto my side. The sound of a foil wrapper being torn open registered in my buzzing brain. Hot naked skin pressed against my back, the coarse hair on his chest brushing me, and a hand gripped me below the knee. “Open for me, Cela. I need you.”
Foster guided my knee toward my chest. The arm and leg of the side I was lying on were still tethered, so I could do nothing but let him put me in position. Then he was sliding deep, his thick heat pushing over tender, needy tissues. I moaned again, not sure I could handle more stimulation. But as he banded an arm around me and stroked me with gentler fingers than before, I knew there was no fighting it. This man knew exactly how to wring every drop of pleasure out of me, whether I was exhausted or not. My body wanted to give it to him.
He was in no hurry, no sprint to his own finish line. Instead, he seemed to be savoring and drinking in the sensation with every long, lazy stroke. A dream lover sneaking into my dreams and slaying me with murmured words and sure hands.
And I knew it was because we were both tired.
And it was late.
And dark.
But it felt different. Special. Like making love instead of just sex. Or what I imagined making love would feel like.
And even though I knew it was too soon, I wanted it to be so. Those feelings.
Without being able to hold it back, another orgasm rushed toward me—languid and lush. Hitched breaths passed my lips, and his arm tightened around me. Then Foster was groaning and thrusting to the hilt, filling me with his own release and holding me against him like he was afraid I’d vaporize and disappear.
Minutes later, he remained buried in me. He kissed my shoulder, my neck—the scent of his shampoo, sweat, and my own arousal drifting over me. His stubble scraped across my cheek as he laid his head against mine. “I should probably move.”
“Mmm,” I mumbled, not ready for him to go anywhere. “Moving is so overrated.”
He murmured an agreement but slid out of me anyway and rolled away briefly, probably taking care of the condom. But before I could even catch the chill of the room, his heat was back against me, cocooning me. He unhooked my arm from the cuff and rubbed my wrist gently. “We’ll have to leave once it’s morning. The room isn’t ours to keep.”
“Boo.”
He tucked me closer to him and pulled the covers fully over us now that our heated skin was cooling. “I know. You make me not want to return to the real world.”
“It won’t be so bad,” I said sleepily, feeling as content and calm as I could ever remember.
“I hope you’re right, angel,” he said, his words featherlight touches against my ear. “I really do.”
But the grimness etching his tone spoke loudly in the quiet night. He didn’t think this was real. He didn’t expect it to work.
I was only temporary. I laced my fingers with his and closed my eyes, wondering, not for the first time, if I didn’t believe the exact same thing.
He shifted behind me with a silent sigh. “Get some rest. Dawn will be here soon.”
—
“Where are we going?” I asked Foster as I stepped out of the bathroom, freshly showered and wrapped in a robe that guy Colby had given me the night before.
Foster was gathering the rest of our things from the armoire on the far side of the room. “Breakfast and then we need to pay someone a visit before we head out.”
I had no idea who we could possibly have to visit, but I kept that opinion to myself. “Did you see my phone? I need to let Andre know I’m okay. I promised him I’d text him this morning. He said he was going to stay the night in case I needed a ride back home.”
Foster walked over to the bedside table, the soft leather of his pants molding over his backside with every step. Hmm, I was beginning to see the appeal of leather. He grabbed my phone and walked it back over to me. “Tell Andre that I’ll make sure you get home safely. Then get dressed. Normally, if we’re here together, you won’t be wearing much. But even I’m not sadistic enough to take the chance of you running into your brother wearing lingerie.”
I grimaced at the thought and grabbed my things from him. After tapping out a text message to my brother, I pulled on my skirt and blouse from the night before and slipped into my strappy sandals. My phone dinged and I picked it up. “Andre said he’s heading out.”
Foster wrapped his arms around my waist from behind and peered over my shoulder at my phone. “And that if I hurt you, he’ll kill me. Nice.”