I nodded. “Can’t go wrong with Julia Roberts.”
He laughed. “Certainly not when she was that age. Man, she was fine as fuck.”
I barked out a laugh and lightly smacked his shoulder. He grinned and tugged me closer to him, slanting his lips across mine. “You’re a hell of a lot better looking, though,” he whispered against my lips.
My blood heated.
He pulled back from me and rented the movie before pulling a blanket over both of us. I leaned against his side, my legs draped over his. His hand curled around my thigh, his other arm bound around my shoulders.
By the time Julia Roberts and the boy she was with began their intimate scene, Slater’s hand was between my thighs, his warm breath tickling my neck. I softly moaned and arched my neck, granting him more access as I parted my thighs. He groaned low in his throat and moved his lips to mine, kissing me hungrily.
Our mouths fused together as one, our tongues dancing together as he laid me back on the couch, his fingers still somehow between my thighs, pressing into me through the material of my leggings. I whimpered low in my throat, needing more contact.
“God, I can’t get enough of you,” he growled.
“Need more,” I begged.
He leaned up on his knees and tugged his shirt over his head, revealing all those sinewy muscles to my hungry eyes before he grabbed the top of my leggings and pulled them down my legs. He licked his lips at the sight of my black lace thong before he rolled those down to.
Then, he held them up to his nose and inhaled, his eyes locked on mine. I just about came right then. That was the hottest fucking thing I’d ever seen.
“You smell fucking delicious,” he rumbled.
My shirt went next, and then he tossed my bra somewhere on the floor. Once I was naked, he laid between my thighs and dove in, hooking my legs over his shoulders.
I cried out his name, already teetering right on the edge, but he kept drawing back at the last moment. I was panting, sweat beading on my forehead. I needed to come so badly, but Slater wanted to draw it out as much as he could.
“Need—need,” I panted. I couldn’t get the fucking words out.
He sucked my clit into his mouth, and I fucking lost it. Stars danced behind my eyelids as my back bowed off the couch. I pulled at my hair.
I was still riding that intense wave when Slater slid home inside of me and rocked our bodies together, sending me spiraling into one orgasm after the other. I couldn’t get enough, and at the same time, I wanted him to stop. I was coming so much, it was taking my breath away and making my head spin.
He applied more of his body weight to mine without prompting, grounding me as he continued bumping that perfect spot inside of me.
“Feels so good,” he rasped, his arms braced on either side of my head. He lowered his lips to mine, letting me taste myself. “Can’t get enough of you, baby girl.”
“Slater,” I whimpered.
“Come,” he rumbled. “Come for me again, Tawney.”
I cried out his name, my voice hoarse. With a growl of my own name, he came with me, spilling inside of his condom.
We lay in a tangled mess of limbs as we tried to catch our breath. As my heart rate slowed, my eyes drooped closed. I was so tired.
“You need a shower,” he whispered, using his fingers to brush my sweaty hair back from my face.
“Too tired,” I mumbled.
Slater pressed his lips to my forehead before getting off the couch. I didn’t even bother opening my eyes.
I must have dozed off because a few minutes later, I was gently swaying. I jerked my eyes open, staring up at Slater. “What . . .”
“Giving you a bath,” he told me as he eased into my garden tub with me still cradled in his arms. “Just relax. I’ve got you.”
I had no doubt about that.
He settled me between his legs and managed to wash and condition my hair. He somehow bathed me while I was basically slack in his arms, dozing off and on. And then he dried me off before settling me in bed beneath my blankets.