Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 103102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
“You mean that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know.” Under the water, she hooks her arm around my waist. “I didn’t believe it, that anyone would want to—”
“Take charge of the most take-charge woman in the world?”
“Yeah. Or maybe. No offense, but it’s not really your personality.”
“Not anywhere else, maybe.” I don’t lead the way she does, but I lead myself. I follow my instincts. “But here, it’s perfect.”
She runs her fingers over my shoulder, dipping her hand below the water. “Touch me.”
“I am touching you.”
“Fuck me.”
“Not here.”
A whine falls from her lips, but she doesn’t say please this time. Instead, she kisses me hard, slipping her tongue into my mouth, exploring me the way I explore her.
I tease her with slow circles then I move to her other breast, expose her, toy with her again and again.
Then, when I can’t take it anymore, I slip my hand between her legs.
She guides my fingers under her bikini bottoms.
She feels different under the water. Softer and slicker. The friction isn’t the same. I have to test different speeds, pressures, to find what she needs.
A little harder than normal. A little smoother.
Then she tugs at my board shorts, and I know I have it.
I kiss her back as I work her. She groans against my mouth, bucking against my hand, taking everything she can from me.
She’s greedy and hungry and eager and I love everything about it.
With my next stroke, I push her to the edge. I go slow, drag it out, until she’s digging her nails into my skin.
Then, finally, I give her what she needs.
She groans against my lips as she pulses against my hand. Her body tenses in my arms, then she unfurls, every part of her relaxed and soft and easy.
After she catches her breath, she looks up at me with hazy eyes. “I think security knows what we’re doing.”
“And?”
She smiles. “If we get kicked out of the place tonight, you’re driving home.”
I shake my head.
“No?” She offers her hand. When I take it, she leads me to the steps.
“No.” I follow her onto the concrete. “I’ll find another hotel.”
“Should I take this off then?” She motions to the strap of her bikini top.
I nod.
She checks our surroundings again, then does it.
She undoes the hook of her bikini top and lets the fabric fall to the ground.
I scoop to gather it.
Deanna covers herself in a towel, grabs the room key, and rushes me to the elevator.
Thankfully, the small space is empty.
After I push the button, I back her into the wall, kiss her hard.
Four flights aren’t enough. I want to spend eternity in here, teasing her, feeling all of her against all of me.
But when the doors ding, and she leads me into the hallway, I don’t care where we are, as long as I’m with her.
She slides the key into the lock and groans as it flashes red.
“Too fast,” I say.
“How are you so steady?” Her voice is all frustration and need.
It’s sexy as hell. “Practice.”
She does it again, a little slower. No go.
A laugh spills from my lips.
“I’ll start right here,” she says.
“Do it.”
For a second, she considers the dare. Her eyes light up. Her teeth sink into her lips. Her chest heaves with her inhale. She’s willing to risk a public indecency charge. Or the thrill of exhibition moves her. Or both.
She doesn’t mount me.
She tries the lock again. This time, it works. The button flashes green.
Relief floods her body as she steps inside.
This is where we both want to be. The large, rectangular room. It’s the same place I checked into yesterday, with the same sheer white curtains over the balcony door (and the thick beige blackout curtain pulled back), the same pastel palm tree paintings on the walls, the same king bed, the same white sheets and cream comforter.
Only I don’t see it as a hotel room that’s trying way too hard to look elegant. I see it as the place where I join with her. The place where we melt together.
And that makes all of it beautiful. Even the hideous corporate art.
Well, maybe not beautiful, but special all the same.
She takes in the room for a split second, then drops her towel and her bikini bottoms and goes right to the bedside table. Condom. Lube. There.
The water washes the natural lubrication away.
She doesn’t say it and I don’t ask. I’m old enough to know better. To know it’s not personal. There are a million reasons why someone might need a little extra wetness.
Medication, moods, marathon sessions. Maybe that’s tonight. I can have her again and again.
Since this is our night. Plans with other people start tomorrow. Tonight?
It’s all ours.
And I know exactly what I want to do.
“I brought something,” I say.
“Oh?” She climbs onto the bed and looks up at me with enthusiasm in her eyes.