The scent of our sex rushes through my nostrils, slaps of skin against skin echo in my ears. His rough hands taking me how he wants without apologies, and the way he owns my body without any regret, gives me everything I hadn’t known I’d been missing. His thick cock is filling me deeply, pumping in and out, and the sheer force of his pelvis smacking against my ass is silencing my mind and awakening nerve endings never before awakened.
My moans are now one long sound and sweat is coating my skin. I cannot move. I can’t think. I don’t know how to free myself from the pressure building inside of me. It’s all overwhelming me and I’m spiraling out of control…
I suddenly feel the weight of his body on mine; his low voice right by my ear, tickling my neck. “Do you want to come, Allie?”
“Yes!” I pant. “Please!”
“Give it to me,” he murmurs in a voice I’m sure could make me orgasm alone. It’s low. It’s slow. It’s his.
Then the weight of his body is gone and he squeezes my ass so tight and then slaps my cheeks twice, bringing heat to my lower body. The burn on my flesh as his fingers grip my skin, matched with his cock driving unforgivingly into me delivers me into euphoria without any sort of warning and I’m squeezing him tight, rolling through wave after wave of pleasure.
His thrusts become frantic, hard, fast pounds against me. His low, gravelly moans keep me riding the high I hope to never return from, when I feel the sting on my shoulder, the teeth scraping against my flesh.
“Fuck!” I scream, my toes pointing, as he sends me soaring higher while he’s bucking and jerking against me.
Sometime later, I come to realize he’s lying on my back; his sweaty skin plastered to mine; his chest heaving up and down against me. He releases my wrists and flips me over, settling between my legs. I make no move to help him. I can’t. I’m boneless.
He swipes the hair off my face. Dark, sexy, smoky eyes meet mine. “Did that make you forget?”
I manage to force my mind back into coherent thinking. “Forget?”
He drops both hands beside my head, hovering over me, and his brow curves arrogantly. “Forget any remaining objections you had about me?”
I laugh softly, breathless. “Hell yes.”
“Good.” He lowers his head into my neck.
We’re both catching our breaths, while he reaches up to my wrists and begins rubbing them. I realize in those quiet seconds after an orgasm that Micah offers unimaginable pleasure.
Addictive pleasure.
And I want more.
Chapter 9
Allie
The following morning, loud beeping pierces the silence. My hand moves to the end table, where the noise is coming from, and smacks against the snooze button on the clock to make it go away. I pull the duvet up over my shoulder, wanting to ignore the sun beaming on my face.
Frustratingly, a minute later, the beeping begins again, reminding me that I hadn’t set the clock, which also reminds me that I’m not alone in the bed, and Micah likely set the clock before falling asleep. Considering we had sex more times last night than I’ve had in the last year, I forgive myself for not recalling him setting the alarm. But I’m sure glad he thought to, or I would be late this morning.
Real estate agents work Saturdays, and that’s nonnegotiable.
Wide awake now and thinking of all the crap I have to do, including finding the Lowes as many possibilities as I can by Monday, I blink away the sleepy haze, feeling the strains of my body from the most amazing se
xual experience of my life. Every muscle aches, including parts of my body that feel a little bruised from Micah’s roughness, as well as the junction between my thighs, but I enjoy these particular aches. Which now reminds me that I’m very naked and maybe being late for work to get more of Micah wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
I flip over to face him, finding an empty bed next to me. Coldness sweeps across me so fast, stealing my breath, I jerk up to sitting. I pull the cream-colored duvet with me, knowing that he’d been there. I remember falling asleep in his arms, and the sheets beside me are messy and the pillow looks slept on. “Micah,” I call out.
When I hear footsteps coming from the living room, I sigh in relief, glad to know he hadn’t left me. I reach up, flattening out my hair and wiping under my eyes, removing any leftover makeup, when a feminine Spanish voice says, “I’m sorry…” The maid, wearing the hotel’s uniform of all black with a Phoenix’s logo on the right arm, enters the bedroom. “Mr. Holt had an early morning meeting and asked me to make sure you got these.”
She can’t even look at me when she places a pin-striped pantsuit on the bed. I refuse to look at her either, wishing to be anywhere but here. “Please take your time,” she eventually adds, staring at her shoes. “I brought some makeup and everything else you need to start your day.” She turns on her heels, moving toward the door. “Mr. Holt ordered breakfast for you, it’s on the balcony when you’re ready.”
I part my lips to say something to defend myself, but only a bitter taste fills my mouth. Because the worst thing about all this is that I can’t even say waking up to the maid instead of Micah surprises me. This is what happens when you date a billionaire. Work always comes first. I will always come second. And I guess maybe a part of me believed—hoped—this would not happen, especially this morning.
But it did…
He left me.