I can feel my face go beetroot red before I can stop it and, not for the first time, curse my skin’s inability to remain neutral. I’d be bloody shit at poker.
“Iknewit,” Jamie singsongs gleefully, clapping her hands together which causes a wince from me. The zombies may have gone, but my head is still cloudy. “Spill. I need all the deets, stat.”
“You’re such a tease, aren’t you Little Rabbit? Dressed in your tiny outfit, shaking that cute little bunny tail at me all night. Looking at me with your fuck-me eyes.” His hand slowly strokes his cock as he playfully chastises me. “I’ve been thinking about this all night, about having you in every way possible. About how many times I can fuck you. About how much fun we can have with all that chocolate. You think you’re up for more? What else can we do?” His other hand reaches into what’s left of the chocolate and brings it to my lips. I instantly open them, granting access to my mouth and he slips his covered fingers in. I suck the sweet sugary substance from them causing a guttural moan to elicit from the back of his throat.
“Oh yeah, I think we can have a lot more fun with this,” he says as he drops to his knees in front of me, bowl of remaining chocolate in hand.
“I promise you, there’s nothing interesting to tell.” I insist, because honestly, I’d prefer for the finer details of what happened last night to remain between me and my masked lover.
“Keep believing that, honey, but I’m going to get it out of you sooner or later.” Jamie promises, before grabbing her purse and car keys and heading towards the door. I’m relieved the subject is closed, even only temporarily, as I follow behind her. I guess it’s time for brunch, then.
* * *
I’m not even lying when I say I’ve just eaten the best greasy food I’ve had in a long time. And that’s saying a lot given that, in my humble opinion, England has all the awards for the best fry-up known to man. But admittedly, there’s something about American style pancakes dripping in maple syrup and served with a heap of bacon on the side, that’s surprisingly satisfying. Couple it with a bottomless pit of coffee and I feel a shitload better than I did a couple of hours ago.
Steph texted while we were ordering, telling us she was on the way back and Hogan and his friends were going to tidy up the room we used yesterday. The deal was we’d set it up and him and his teammates would do clean up. It’s a fair trade in my opinion. Steph gave us her order and is now guzzling a monstrous-sized Pumpkin Spiced Latte.
“Any news from Allie?” I ask as she finishes her sugary-sweet drink.
“So, get this, her and Donte have been hooking up off and on for weeks. Can you believe that? Apparently, she kept it on the downlow as it’s a drunken tryst type of thing, and nothing serious. Anyway, secret’s out now, seeing as both me and Hogan saw them going at it near the bathrooms. I mean, get a room at least, right?” she laughs playfully.
I almost choke on the last of my coffee because I did, in fact, get a room. A cloakroom, to be exact. And I wasn’t alone, either.
Bruce looms close to me, as he slowly loosens his bowtie. He takes the black ribbon and pulls it taut between his hands, a luscious smile forming on his wickedly sexy mouth. “Feel like having some fun?” he asks, and my nod is instantaneous. Yes, give me all the fun, because this night is the best of my life, and I don’t want it to end. I slowly lick my lips and my eyes lock on to his as he takes both of my hands in his and holds them tightly together above my head. Taking the bowtie he fastens them tightly to a sturdy object behind me—it must be a cupboard or one of the coat rails. Seeking reassurances, he checks if what he’s doing is okay and, again, I nod. He asked me earlier if I trusted him and despite only knowing him for a few hours, I do. I trust him not to do anything to hurt me. The reverence with which he’s treated both me and body tonight has proven that.
“Good,” is his simple reply. Without further explanation he places both of his hands of my hips and abruptly lifts me up, moving his body closer so we’re full-on touching. I instantly wrap my legs around him, securing him tightly to me. The position gives me a slight, but pleasurable pull on my shoulders, my hand restraints ensuring I can’t move. With one arm now securely around my waist, Bruce reaches down and immediately plunges one of his fingers deep within me. I cry out, and instantly want more. He adds another finger and curls them, massaging my clit relentlessly. I’ve already had countless orgasms tonight, but I know the best is yet to come. Pun intended.
“Fuck, you’re so fucking hot, Jessica. The sound you make, those little mewls, they’re my fucking undoing.”
Bruce removes his fingers and I mourn the loss, but not for long as he hammers his sheathed dick into me. He places his head in the crook of my neck and lets out a guttural moan, one I can feel from the tips of my fingers, right through my arms pulled tightly above me. It travels down my chest to the sensitive peaks of my breasts, causing them to ache with desire. It plummets down my body and straight to my core, causing me to coat his cock, and it continues down my legs to the tips of my toes.
“I can’t hold it anymore,” I tell him, “I can’t wait. I want you. I need you to fuck the shit out of me.”
I feel his smirk against my skin just before he gives me a little bite, followed by a lick.
“Your wish is my command,” he says before he adjusts his position and pounds into me relentlessly, causing me to come undone one more time.
“So,” Steph continues, and I realise she’s been talking the whole time I was reliving what was undoubtedly the best orgasm of my life. “You seemed to get on well with Hogan’s friend, last night.”
“Eh,” Jamie interrupts, holding a hand up, “Don’t even bother. I’ve tried getting her to spill, and she’s not giving me anything.”
“Okay, okay,” I relent. “He was nice. We had a good time. A great time, in fact. He had good chat and was pretty funny. Plus, I like Batman so . . . win-win!”
“Well, Hogan said that D—”
“No!” I interrupt her quickly, having a feeling she was about to tell me some information I’ve deliberately been avoiding. “We agreed to no names.”
“So, you had a great time with him, but you don’t want to know anything else about him, or to see him again?” Steph asks, a little bewildered.
“Yep. Exactly. What happens at Halloween, stays at Halloween. I’m treating this as one of my all-American adventures—hook up with an American hottie: tick. Now I can say I’ve been there, done that, bought the T-shirt.” What I don’t say is I wore that T-shirtmultipletimes.
“Are you sure?” Steph asks. “Because I can text Hogan right now and ask for his number.”
“One hundred percent.”
And I am. I had my fun—lots and lots of mind-blowing, sex-filled, hot-guy fun—and I’m going to treat it as such. A one-night stand. Besides, it’s not like I need to see him again.
Is it?
* * *