Ten minutes later, we’re pulling up to Gray Hotel.
Max pays the driver and gets out, offering me his hand as I try to—somewhat gracefully—step out of the cab.
The doorman beams at us. “Good morning, sir, madam. Welcome to Gray Hotel.”
“Good morning,” Max replies.
Threading his fingers through mine, he leads me through the grand entrance into the buzzing foyer. I take in the scene: reception checking in guests, concierge busy on phone calls, bellmen helping with bags, taxis pulling up outside—when my gaze lands on—
I stop dead. Blink once. Twice. My heart lurches.
I turn and smack his chest. “How? I thought…”
Beside me, Max chuckles. The cheeky bastard.
My throat tightens and tears spring to my eyes.
I can’t believe he did this. For me.
Max slides his hands into his trouser pockets, leaning in close. His breath tickles my ear, sending warmth down my spine. “Go and get your coffee.”
I step forward, joining the busy queue. My face lighting up the moment the barista spots me.
“Morning, lass!” he booms.
A tear slides down my cheek as I whisper back, “Hi Lance.”
I didn’t want yesterday to end. After catching up with Lance, the proud new owner of the Gray Hotel Coffee Cart, we spent the rest of the day and evening in bed, tracing and tasting every inch of each other. And now, I wake to the feel of Max’s hard length pressed to my arse. I smile, arching my back, rubbing against him.
“Open your legs for me, sweetheart,” he instructs.
I obey, exposing more of myself for him. I’m already impossibly wet and ravenous. Tilting my head, he captures my lips, and I sink into the feel of him. His thick thighs, strong shoulders, and chiseled stomach. Craving more, I turn in his hold.
He cups my heat, running his fingers through my mess.
“What do you need?” he asks.
“I want you to fill me,” I breathe.
“Yeah?” His fingers glide lazily through my pussy, lapping tight circles over my clit. “Where do you want me to fill you?” He starts teasing my entrance with two fingers. “Here?” He thrusts his fingers inside me slowly before pulling them outand running them down to the hole between my cheeks. He smears my wetness over my arsehole. “Or here?”
A moan slips out. “Both,” I say, dusting my thumb over his crown, spreading the pre-cum through his slit.
I grip him firmly, pumping a long, firm stroke up and down his shaft. He exhales shakily and I smile against his mouth.
He drives his fingers into me, scissoring and spreading me open until I’m soaked. We continue this way, working each other up with our hands before decreasing our pace, testing and teasing.
“Top drawer. Bedside table,” I pant.
He breaks the kiss, reaching over and opening the drawer to peer inside. The moment he sees the contents of my bedside table, he smirks.
His muscles shift as he pulls out my eight-inch dildo and a bottle of lube. With a wicked glint in his eyes, he drops both items beside me.
“Get on all fours,” he says.
I don’t waste time, scrambling to my hands and knees.
He settles behind me, stroking each cheek and smoothing his hand up and down my spine. He snakes an arm around me, pulling me up on my knees so my back is flush to his chest. He’s warm and strong, wrapping an arm around my stomach to keep me in place. A heat stirs in my belly as the hand holding me slides down to my clit, and I gasp. His other hand gets to work kneading my breast, pinching and pulling my nipple until I’m rolling my body into his, sinking against him.
