God. What is he doing to me? Why do I like it so much?
The blows come faster now—some harder than others, and each hit jolts me and unfurls more heat inside me, until I’m moaning loudly.
Moaning his name.
“Like this?” he pants, stopping and trailing the roses up to my shoulders, then along my spine down, between my ass cheeks, making them clench, then down my thighs. “You’re so wet, babe. Fuck, I need to be inside you.”
“Please,” I sob the word. “Yes.”
“I knew it,” he gasps, letting the roses fall on the bed and pushing his cock into me, drawing a cry from my throat as he stretches me wide, “from the moment I saw you. I knew you’d like me to touch you that way.”
I can’t dwell on what he’s saying—mostly because he’s filling me up, his cock so hot and hard, and the barbells brush over all the right places inside me, and I’m so close to coming I can’t even breathe.
His weight settles on top of me, and it feels so good. I realize he’s holding himself mostly off, his arms flexing at my sides, and his breath washes over my super-sensitized neck.
“You smell good,” he says, and I push back, taking him deeper, making him gasp for a change. “Oh fuck, yes. Do that again.”
Pushy. Hot. He feels amazing inside me, behind me, around me.
I shove my ass back once more, and he goes nuts. His hips flex, and he starts thrusting inside me, long, powerful shoves that have me coming with a shout, shaking where I’m pressed into the bed. My pussy tightens around his cock in sharp waves, and he curses, stilling, letting me milk his hard-on until the pleasure ebbs.
“Fuck.” He suddenly sits back, hauling me up with him, his cock pushing even deeper inside me, the pressure of this piercing making me moan helplessly. His hands move over my boobs, tugging on my nipples, stoking the last ember of desire left inside me as my mind whirls. “So pretty. Need you, need to feel you… Damn.”
He thrusts up inside me, his cock impossibly hard, and my pussy clenches again. I moan with another mini-orgasm, burning in his hold, trembling—and he grunts as he comes, hard, filling the condom. I can feel the heat of his cum through the thin rubber.
When he’s done, he pulls me down on the bed with him and wraps his arms around me. “Did I keep my promise?”
I’m too wiped out to speak, so I nod.
He chuckles. “You can now tell that asshole of an ex of yours that the F word doesn’t apply to you.”
“F-word?”
“Frigid?” I hear a grin in his voice. “Yeah, I don’t think so. Hot like hell, that’s how you are, babe.”
I laugh quietly, pleased. Happy. Exhausted and sated. “That’s all you,” I whisper, because that’s the truth, and yet, deep inside me, I can’t help the new wave of warmth his words bring.
Jamie Hawk Fleming thinks I’m hot. That’s any girl’s wet dream.
But the dream will soon be over and I need to wake up.
Chapter Three
We don’t stay the night in the hotel. That’s the first wake up call. Hawk rolls over, gets up, showers and pulls on his clothes, telling me he’s had a great time.
He’s smiling, and he’s nice and polite, but it’s obvious for him the night is over, and I feel like a cheap hook-up.
Which I am. Though the price of this suite sure isn’t cheap, but still. Dinner, a few compliments, and I jumped into bed with a stranger. A wealthy, handsome, sexy stranger, but you see where I’m going with this.
Sure, the sex was amazing. Like, for real. I’m even walking funny when I get off the bed to use the bathroom, and I thought it was just a myth. Whose guy’s junk can do that to you, right?
Hawk’s, that’s whose. His cock and the four orgasms he gave me tonight.
I clean myself, pee, come out and get dressed, too, my clothes wrinkled in a heap on the floor. I smooth them out as best I can, and then it gets more awkward when he shoves his hands into his pant pockets and tilts his head toward the door.
“I should be on my way. Long day at work tomorrow.”
Oh God. Seriously? “No need to make excuses,” I tell him coolly, gathering my purse and coat and storming past him.