When we step onto the elevator, Jesse hits the button for his floor. Before the doors even close, he presses my back to the wall, grinding his already hard cock into me, and I moan.
“You’re mine,” I murmur as his hand lifts my head from his neck so he can kiss me.
“And you’re mine.” His tongue tastes me, and my chest feels lighter than I think it ever has in my life. “No going back, Hallie,” he says when he pulls back, and I shake my head.
“No going back.”
He smiles, head dropping to my neck and kissing me there. The elevator is criminally slow, but I can’t deny it to myself. “That was the hottest thing you’ve ever done.”
“Hotter than when I dry-humped you on the couch and made you come in your sweats?”
His laughter fills the small space, and I love that—love this—how when we’re so on fire, we can still joke and laugh. In fact, I feel like I’m floating with happiness.
“A million times hotter.”
“Hotter than when you ate me out on the edge of the hot tub?”
“Definitely.”
“Hotter than when I got on my knees and sucked you off in your bedroom?” I ask, and he hesitates for a moment, making me laugh again.
“Hotter, Hallie. You claiming me in front of everyone? Nothing will ever top that.”
“I have forever to try, though,” I say the words without meaning to, but I know once they leave my lips, when his entire face lights up, they were the right thing to say. His hand glides down over my hips and under the skirt of my dress.
“What the fuck are these?” he asks, pinching at my thick tights, pulling them away, and realizing they’re not actually sheer and thin.
“They’re lined tights. They’re very warm,” I inform him as his lips move down my neck, nipping and kissing and sending my need higher and higher as the elevator climbs.
“They’re criminal, Hallie.”
“What? Why? If I weren’t wearing them, the entire bar would have seen my ass,” I say with a breathy laugh that cuts short as his hand finds its way beneath the waistband and cups my pussy.
“Because if you weren’t wearing them, I’d be on my knees eating your cunt right now.”
And you know what? He makes a great point.
His finger presses my clit over my underwear, and I suck in a sharp breath. “Jesse,” I murmur, about to tell him to take them off, destroy them, ruin them—I don’t careso long as it gets his mouth on me—but then the elevator dings, opening on our floor, and Jesse is moving us out the doors, his hands gripping my ass as I suck on his neck. I give an apologetic look to the elderly couple, who look alarmed as we pass them, then laugh when the woman gives me a wink and thumbs-up. When we turn the corner, that laugh turns to a gasp as one of his hands slides down, fingers grazing over my entrance, and for the second time, I vow never to wear these fucking tights again. Always easy access only.
Finally, we reach a door, and Jesse fumbles in his pocket as I press kisses to his neck before he finally gets the key out, scanning it and opening the door. It slams behind us, and then my back is pressed to it, Jesse’s body pinning mine in place. His lips crash down on mine with need and ferocity as my hands move to either side of his face and pull me to him. Our teeth clash, lips smashing together, tongues tasting one another.
I’ve never felt more needed, more desired, in my entire life. But over the past month, I’ve realized that’s how Jesse always makes me feel—like there's nowhere he would rather be and no one he would rather be with than me.
When he grinds into me, his cock already hard and moving over my swollen clit with perfect precision, I groan.
“Please tell me you’re not going to cut me off again,” I beg, desperate for him.
He lets out a laugh and shakes his head. “Oh, Hallie baby, we’re not leaving this hotel room until you’re good and sore.”
A chill runs through me as he sets me on my feet, then tugs my dress off as I kick off my boots. His fingers tuck under the waistband of my tights and pull them and my underwear down, moving to his knees as he does. I step out of them with his help, and then I’m naked before him. He shifts until he’s face-to-face with my pussy, and the mangroans. He groans loudly, and I tighten at the sound. A finger trails up my inner thigh, and I slowly step to widen my legs and give him room, a smirk forming on his lips, though he doesn’t look up my body at me. Instead, his eyes stay locked on my center.
“I’ve fucking dreamed about this cunt, Hallie.”
“You could have seen it in person weeks ago,” I say, words shaky as that finger slides over the crease where my leg meets my hip.
“No, no. This is so much better. Now it’s mine.” He leans forward and places a soft, almost chaste kiss on my clit, and I sigh.
“Jesse,” I murmur, fingers moving to his hair, but he doesn’t move. Instead, his other hand moves up, thumbs parting me, and then he groans again when my cunt is revealed to him.
