I’m intoxicated.
I need more.
So much fucking more.
She lifts away, her beautiful fucking eyes blinking a few times as she stares back at me. She almost seems . . . stunned as well.
I feel the same way, so I step off my barstool, take her hand in mine, and say, “Let’s get out of here.”
“What room?” I ask as we head up the back stairs of the inn. The last thing I wanted was to run into Ethel, the owner, because Lord fucking knows, word would get around town that I was fucking somebody at the Five Six Seven Eight. That’s the last thing I need.
“Room at the end of the hallway on the left,” Gabby says as I lead the way, her hand in mine.
We haven’t said anything since we left the bar, not one single word. Not that we need to. I think we both know where this is headed. Both of us are buzzing.Desperate.
She pulls out her key when we reach her room, and I unlock the door. After pushing me through the threshold, she shuts the door behind us. When I turn to face her, her eyes roam my body right before she reaches for the hem of her blouse and pulls it up and over her head, revealing her ample breasts in a black lace bra.
Christ.
I reach over my head, tug on my shirt, and pull it off before dropping it to the floor.
And I let her fucking feast.
Those hungry eyes wash over my body, taking in every contour, every muscle, every inch of sinew I’ve built over time.
“Fuck,” she murmurs right before she pulls me into her, causing me to press one hand against the door behind us and the other to her waist. Her hands fly up my chest, over my pecs to my neck where she grips me tightly and brings my mouth back to hers.
I fall into her embrace, into the way her mouth works mine. I’m desperate to hear her sounds to fill this unsatisfied need rolling through me.
As my mouth works hers, our tongues colliding, I drag my fingers up her side, just below her breast. She moans softly, brings her hand to mine, and lifts it to her breast, where she pulls down the cup of her bra. A surge of lust bursts through me as I take her heavy breast in my hand and drag my thumb over her hard nipple.
Her leg wraps around mine, and I take that moment to lower my hand that’s propped up against the door and smooth it up and under her ass, only to lift her with one arm and press her against the door.
She groans into my mouth as her center presses against my rock-hard cock.
“Fuck, you’re big,” she says as she wiggles against me.
“Can you handle me?” I ask as I bring my lips down her jaw to her neck.
“That’s not the question you should be asking,” she says as she tilts her head to the side.
“What should I be asking?”
“You should be asking it the other way around . . . if you can handle me.”
She takes that moment to release herself from my waist and drops down in front of me. Eye level with the fly over my zipper, she undoes my jeans, then yanks them down, along with my briefs, freeing my erection right in front of her.
I don’t even have time to fucking gasp before her tongue swirls around the tip of my cock.
“Mother . . . fucker,” I say as I brace my hand against the door in front of me. My other hand goes to her face, where I tilt it up just enough so I can see her eyes and her mouth work over my cock.
It feels so fucking good.
Too fucking good.
Like this is all some sort of fever dream.
She bobs her mouth over my length, sucking as she moves down, sucking even harder as she moves back up. Her grip at the base is fucking tight, and as she continues to suck and tease and do fucking good things, I can feel my body climb, my orgasm driving my need to go deeper. There’s no way I’ll fucking last if she keeps doing this.
