This girl is fiery when she’s determined, which is totally unexpected.
The bathroom light shuts off and then she’s standing next to the bed, the room phone in her hand, and when the operator answers, she starts talking.
“Yes, I was wondering if it would be possible to have a box of condoms delivered to Mister Cannon Whittaker’s room?” She pauses as the person on the line speaks, and I sit up in bed, shocked at what she’s saying. “Yes, I know it’s three in the morning, but it’s rather important.” Another pause, then she smiles. “You’ll send them up in fifteen minutes? Lovely. Thank you so very much.”
Susanna hangs up the phone, looking rather pleased with herself. “We’ll have condoms in fifteen minutes.”
“Damn, woman, that was sexy,” I tell her, crawling out of bed so I can grab hold of her. But she’s a slippery thing, and she’s keeping me on my toes. The moment I reach for her, she yelps and starts running around the room like a crazy woman, buck-naked with her hair flying and her tits bouncing, and I chase after her. I catch her when I get her cornered near the door, a triumphant smile on my face when she realizes she’s stuck. I grab hold of her wrists with one hand and pin her, my cock like an insistent third friend between us.
“Gotcha,” I whisper, my face drawing closer to hers.
“I might get away,” she threatens, and I laugh.
“You can’t. I got you.” I kiss her, trying to drug her with my lips, and of course, it works. She’s returning my kiss with gusto, and I keep my hold on her wrists as I break the kiss and drop to my knees, my mouth landing on her pussy.
We’re like that long minutes later, two orgasms in, her legs shaking, her throat hoarse from her screams. My face is covered in come, and when there’s a knock on the door I pull away from her, both of us wide-eyed.
“Hello! Package for Mister Whittaker!”
“Shit,” I mutter as I rise to my feet, scrubbing my hand across my face. My dick is sticking straight out like a pole, and should I mention just how big it is?
Because it’s big. And obvious.
“Get a robe on,” Susanna suggests in a hushed whisper just before she runs to the bathroom.
“With my dick sticking out of it as I open the door? I don’t think so,” I mutter.
The knock sounds again. “Mister Whittaker? Are you in there?”
“Give me a minute!” I yell back, wincing at the sound of my agitated voice.
I’m such an asshole.
“Here.” Susanna exits the bathroom, wearing a white hotel robe and clutching another one in her hands. “Wear this and answer the door.”
I take the robe from her, letting my gaze run over her. “You answer the door.”
“What?” She rests a hand against her chest. “No. I couldn’t possibly.”
“Why not?”
“They’ll know what I’ve been doing,” she says, her voice squeaky.
“Yeah, well, they’ll figure out what I’m going to do here in a minute, even if they weren’t delivering condoms.” I drop my gaze to my dick, which is still thrusting straight out.
Susanna covers her mouth, smothering a giggle. “I can’t answer the door like this. I look like I’ve been…”
“Thoroughly fucked? Yes, you do.” I lean in and drop a tender kiss to her lips before pulling away. “But it’s okay. You’ll never see this person again.”
She looks doubtful. “I don’t know.”
“Then I guess we won’t get the condoms.”
Determination crossing her features, she shoves me into the bathroom, runs a hand over her wild hair and then unlocks and opens the door. “Hello,” she says breathlessly, clutching the front of the robe to her.
“Good morning.” The man in the suit isn’t that much older than either of us, and he’s not bad looking either. He’s eyeing Susanna with undisguised interest, the rat bastard. “Is Mister Whittaker available?” he asks.
“He’s—predisposed at the moment, but I can take the delivery.” Her cheery voice can almost make me forget I had her pinned to the wall and my mouth on her pussy only a few minutes ago.