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I up the tempo, my hand racing seamlessly up and down the length while my head bobs in unison pulling him deeper with each thrust of his hips. He's fucking my mouth hard, the sounds escaping his lips pulling even more desire from me.

"Fuck. Oh fuck. Suck it like that." Each of the words falls into the other between low groans. "Christ, Kayla. I'm going to come."

I pull back slightly as he rams his ass into the tiles trying to dislodge his cock from my mouth. I hold steady, my fists still wrapped tightly around it. I gaze up at him, staring directly into his eyes.

"I'm coming," he hisses loudly. "Coming."

I lick my lips as the first stream hits them. I hold him steady capturing every drop on my tongue and my lips.

"Holy fuck." His eyes bore into me watching every movement I make. "Jesus."

***

"Are you from New York or Boston?" His voice is tranquil now. He's come down from the edge. He's dressed in a different suit than last night. This one is navy blue. The white dress shirt he's wearing unbuttoned enough to show a hint of the smooth skin of his chest.

I debate before I answer. "I'm from Boston," I offer in a low tone.

"You're just visiting here?" He reaches towards the floor. His hand elegantly pulling at the edge of the scarf that I'd dropped when I'd undressed last night.

I take it from him with a slight nod of my head. "I'm moving back here."

"You've lived here before?"

I stare at him unsure of whether he's making small talk to avoid the uncomfortable silence that drifts between two strangers after they've shared an exchange that intimate. "I did, briefly," I whisper into the scarf that I've now pulled around my neck.

His eyes drop from my face to the floor. "I grew up in Boston. I like New York more."

I hate Boston. "I do too, "I say slowly. I will like it more. I have to. I don't want to go back there.

"I'm driving today." His hand dips into the pocket of his pants. I hear the clink of keys as he shuffles them within his palm. "Is there somewhere I can drop you?"

I study his face. The curve of his brow and the strength in his jawline is familiar. I've seen his face before. "Have we met before?"

His brown eyes meet mine. "I would remember meeting you."

"You're sure?" I push back wanting to make the connection. I'd fucked a few boys in college but he's older than me. There's no way he's twenty-three-years-old too. The way he carries himself is different. His clothing suggests he's wealthier than someone who would normally stay in a room like this. The realization of that stings a touch. I instantly wonder if he brings all the women he fucks here or if there's another, more comfortable, place for those he deems worthy.

"We haven't met." His eyes avoid mine. "I have to get to work."

The natural reaction would be to ask where that is. I should want to know how he fills his days and what those perfectly manicured hands do that affords him the expensive watch around his wrist and the silver cufflinks that pop in to view every now and again beneath the cuff of his jacket.

I shuffle slightly on my feet, pulling on the hem of the blue sweater I'm wearing. I should thank him. How do I do that? Do I tell him that I appreciate the orgasms? Do I applaud him for gifting me with the talents of his tongue? "Thank you for letting me stay here last night."

"Kayla?" My name falls from his lips in a low rasp. "You have somewhere to go, don't you?"

"Yes." I have a place I can go to. I don't belong anywhere right now.

"You're sure?" Concern blankets over his expression. "You can stay here for a few days if you need to."

Pity. It's there in his eyes. I see it. "I'm sure," I lie. It's not a complete lie. My best friend will take me in. She'll hold me while I cry over Parker's rejection. She'll make me laugh with stories of the moments in college when life felt easy and the future seemed uncomplicated.

"Last night was fun." He stands in place, his back to the door. "I'm glad we met."

I'm glad we fucked.

Those are the words I'm tempted to say. I am glad he took my body and mind to a place where nothing but pleasure mattered for a few moments. I'm grateful that I didn't have to immediately face my life again. The pain that had been biting at my chest since Parker left me is dulled now. I don't want that to be temporary. I want today to be the first day when I don't feel suffocated with sadness.

"I need to go to the …" he stops himself. The details of his life outside the walls of this room don't matter. He knows they don't.


Tags: Deborah Bladon Ruin Romance