Holy shit, Ada isengaged.
Even as Davis hurries me around the back of the hotel, joy bubbles through me like champagne. She’s going to marry Jake. Jake, who’s loved her forever. Who loves her exactly the way she is.
Ada’s expression when he slipped the ring on her finger is going to stay with me for life, and I can’t wait for the wedding band to go on.
I’d better be her Maid of Honour. Fuck her sister, that job’s mine.
It’s laughable now, thinking I came back to Pukekohe hoping to revive my roots here, and Ada, beautiful, brilliant Ada, with her plan to topple the whole town, is the one who’s promised herself to a Pukekohe boy instead.
It’s going to be another change for us, but a good one. She’ll be unstuck and no longer living with me above a bar. I’ll have to stand on my own two feet. Sink or swim.
I had fun at the reunion. Dancing with Davis, looking up into his eyes as we swayed together under the twinkly lights, felt likethe perfect high school fantasy come to life. Everything narrowed down to just us, the background fading and one thing shining clear: I adore this man.
For many reasons, most of which have nothing to do with his penis. But I still want it.
I get a hint of it, as he grinds me up against the back wall of the hotel, his tongue in my mouth and hands on my ass while we wait for our car, but all it does is leave me craving more.
The rides to Jake’s nan’s place, then back to Nikau Palms, are torture, and not in a fun way. I rub my legs together, trying to ease the tension, but all it does is reinforce the fact I’m not wearing underwear.
Curse him. At least if I had knickers on, I could ride the seam to take the edge off.
“Relax,” Davis instructs, glancing over at me from the other side of the backseat.
“You relax,” I snark back, horniness making me snappier than usual, and he lets out a laugh.
“I’m trying,” he grinds out, his knuckles white against the dark fabric of his pants. Davis in formalwear is a sight to see. When he emerged from my shower earlier in a black shirt and suit pants, I almost dragged him back to his car for another round.
“Ask the driver to pull over,” I beg quietly now. “Fuck me on the side of the road, Davis. I don’t care.”
“Fucking hell.” He squeezes his eyes shut for the briefest of moments. “Don’t say shit like that to me, Cece.Icare, but you’re making it really hard to be a good guy.”
Being a good guy is vastly overrated, and I open my mouth to tell him so when he reaches over and clamps his hand over my lips. His pinky slips inside, and I hum happily, pleased to be suckingsomething.Davis bites out a curse. The driver glances back at us, and the car jerks up in speed.
He’s as keen to get rid of us as we are to be away from him.
“Make it through the lobby,” Davis gasps, as we tumble out of the rideshare in the NikauPalms parking lot. “Get me to your room without breaking me as a man, and I swear I’ll fuck you like my life depends on it.”
Olympic power walkers couldn’t make the trip as fast as I do. The instant my hotel room door clicks shut behind us, he’s on me.
“This night has been torture,” he groans against my mouth, manoeuvring us towards the bed.
“It was your idea to go, I just wanted to do this,” I say, unbuttoning his shirt and running my hands over the warm planes of his torso.
“I know.” He kicks off his shoes and unzips my dress with hurried hands. “I’m glad we did. We had a good time. But I’ve had your underwear in my pocket and your scent on my face for five goddamned hours.” Our hands collide on his belt buckle.
“I fucking love it, love smelling you on me, but my cock has been hard since I ate you out in the car.” Davis lets go of me to shuck his pants and underwear. I let my dress fall, collapsing onto the bed in nothing but my nude heels.
“Christ,” Davis gasps, palming his cock.
“Christ yourself,” I reply.
Davis naked is a work of art. Like a Greek statue brought to life, but even better. He’s got a bigger cock for one thing. It’d be easy to fixate on that, on the way he strokes it so the wide tip winks at me through his fist on every pass, but I drag my eyes upward. I don’t want to miss a thing, and Davis is a tall guy. There’s a lot to see.
Like the way his stomach hollows as he sucks in a breath, the movement highlighting his tight abdomen. The length of his torso, the top half etched in art that flickers to life as he pumps himself, the curve of his bicep flexing as he watches me watching him. I recognise some of it, the flowers, mostly. I’m dying to learn more about his tattoos. The ship on his shoulder, the tiger on his pec, the line of Japanese calligraphy that runs up the inside of his left arm.
And then under the ridge of his ribs, nothing. Pure, unadorned skin all the way down to the trail of hair that leads to his cock.
I go up on my elbows to get a better look. His muscular thighs are dusted with dark hair, and he’s standing, braced, as steady as aredwood tree. I scan my way down to his feet, then back up to his face, committing every inch to my memory bank.
