“It’s like trying to fit a can of pop in my ass. Not that I’ve ever tried that,” I muttered. After a beat, I added, “Okay, so there was that one time. But none of us should be held responsible for the things we do when we’re drunk, super horny, and in our early twenties.”
He chuckled at that, and I frowned at him and said, “Focus. If you lose your hard-on before I take all of you, I’m going to be pissed.”
“Oh, believe me, there’s no way that’ll happen. Not with this incredible view.”
Finally, the last couple of inches slipped inside me, and my ass made contact with his hips. I held still for a few moments to get used to the intense stretch and told him, “You need to send a gift basket to every guy that ever let you fuck him, Girth Brooks. I realize that’s probably hundreds of men, but maybe you can get a bulk discount at 1-800-I’m-fucking-sorry. I’m going to look like the Holland Tunnel when we’re done here.”
He grinned and said, “You’re a strange man, Jack O’Donnell.”
The fake name made me wince. The first part was real, but I always made up a last name for the men I met in bars. Why feel guilty, though? I didn’t date, so it wasn’t like I was ever going to see this guy again.
Instead of dwelling on it, I concentrated on rocking Reno’s world. I rode him hard and fast, then slowed down again—back and forth like that, so he wouldn’t finish too quickly.
He was so sexy, especially chained up like that. A couple of times, he got so caught up that he forgot about the cuffs and tried to reach for me. When the restraints pulled him up short, he growled like a wild animal, his muscles flexing as he fought to break free. It made my cock throb, and I began jerking off as I bounced on his lap.
Eventually, he decided he was done letting me set the pace and started thrusting up into me. He happened to be at the perfect angle to graze my prostate, and my higher brain functions shut off as intense pleasure and sensation reverberated through me.
I started jerking off faster as I braced myself with a hand on his shoulder. A minute later, he threw his head back and yelled as he started to come. His thrusts were so forceful that all I could do was wrap my arm around him and hold on. He nailed my prostate even harder with me in that position, and I ended up shooting all over both of us.
The orgasm was so intense that it left me shaking. I reached behind me and held the condom in place as I climbed off of him. Then I unlocked the cuffs and dropped onto the mattress.
Reno kissed my shoulder and told me he’d be right back before heading to the adjoining half-bath. That gave me a chance to catch my breath and try to get myself together. When he returned, I took a turn in the bathroom, where I did a half-assed job of cleaning myself up.
Normally, I’d get dressed and make a hasty departure at this point. I was still feeling shaky though, so after I put on my briefs, I curled up next to Reno. He looked happy and relaxed, and he pulled a soft blanket over both of us as I told him, “I’ll be out of your hair soon. I just need to rest for a minute.”
“Why don’t you spend the night? In the morning, I’ll try to impress you with my epic Eggs Benedict.”
The last thing I remembered was muttering, “So fancy.”
* * *
Sometime later, I woke from a dead sleep feeling more than a little disoriented. When I sat up, a large figure beside me stirred. Then Reno turned on the small lamp on the nightstand and mumbled, “You okay, doll face?”
Fucking hell, had I actually fallen asleep in a stranger’s bed? That wasn’t something I did—ever. It made me feel way too vulnerable.
On top of that, I’d been having some sort of vivid dream that mostly eluded me now, and it just added to the state of confusion I found myself in. I told him I was fine, and then I quickly climbed out of bed and began gathering my clothes.
He glanced at his phone and told me, “It’s two a.m. You should come back to bed.”
“Can’t.” I went with the first lie that came to mind. “I have to be somewhere early.” That sounded a lot better than the truth, which was that I’d never intended to fall asleep in the first place and was pretty freaked out.
I found my phone and the rest of my things in the living room. Reno appeared a moment later dressed in just a pair of briefs, and I shifted the bundle of clothes in my arms as I asked him, “What’s your address, so I can tell the cab company where to pick me up?”
He answered my question and added, “But you don’t need to bother with a taxi. I’ll drive you home.”
Oh, hell no. Like I wanted this rich guy to see the shithole I was currently living in? “There’s no need. It’ll be here soon.”
Damn it, the message on my screen told me it would actually be about forty-five minutes, probably because the bars had just closed. I really didn’t think I was capable of making small talk at this point, so to kill time—and because I felt gross and sweaty—I asked, “Would it be okay if I take a shower while I wait for the cab?”
“Of course. It’s on the second floor, through the main bedroom.”
“Thanks. I won’t be long.” Ideally, forty-four minutes, leaving just enough time for a quick goodbye.
The huge suite I found upstairs was really nice. It had high ceilings, a fireplace, and a set of glass doors that led to a balcony. Even though the room had the same bland color scheme as the rest of the place, it looked better in here. It was more white than beige, so it felt light and airy.
The wood furniture was all in honey maple, so the dark mahogany chest on the dresser stood out. Reno must have brought it with him from Vegas, since it didn’t match his current digs at all.
I was far too nosy to walk by that chest without taking a peek inside, and what I found when I raised the lid made my breath catch. The box was lined with black velvet, and its upper tier was divided into eight compartments, four of which held watches.