“Go,” he says, and I duck under his arm and lead the way. I lose my shirt in the hall and my skirt next to the bed, my phone thunking against the floor. Oops. Javier backs me up and against the bed, his shirt already off, then hoists me onto it before leaning down, one knee between my spread legs, and kissing me.
“Condoms are in the drawer,” I tell him, my heels on his lower back.
“You read my mind,” he murmurs.
Moments later he’s fully naked as well. His eyes never leave me as he pulls the box of condoms and also a bottle of lube from my drawer. I let one hand drift down my torso, between my breasts, over to one inner thigh, just to watch his eyes track the movement.
“What?” I ask, after I’ve done it twice more.
“Just thinking about how I want you,” he says, ripping open a condom and rolling it on. “We could fuck like this, but nobody likes missionary best. And you could turn over, but I think I’d rather see your face when you come again.”
I prop myself up on my hands, stretch out a foot, and plant my toes against his thigh, warm and muscled and lightly furred. He drops a hand to it and strokes my instep lightly, and it makes me shiver.
“Tell me how you want me if you’ve got so many opinions,” I say. I’m going for lighthearted and seductive, but my heart’s going a million miles an hour. I’m breathing too hard, and it comes out ragged and throaty.
Javier lets out a careful breath and his hand stills. “Move the pillows.”
I reach over and toss them off the bed. Moments later he’s sitting up against my green velvet headboard and I’m on myknees, watching him pour lube into his hand and then stroke himself. I’ve got a thing for nice hands and also appreciate a nice dick, and lucky me, Javier has both. I might be staring a bit.
“You can watch, if that’s what you want,” he says. “Or you could come over here.”
I crawl. It’s two feet and it’s the obvious way to get there because I’m already on my knees, but it’s still—it’s something. I’m probably going to feel weird about it in the morning, but he’ll be gone by then, so what does it matter?
It’s probably fucked up that it feels easier this way, being some guy’s one-night vacation fling. If I’m never going to see him again, it doesn’t matter if I act like the horny slut I apparently am. In the morning he’ll be gone, and I’ll be my normal self again.
I kneel over his lap and lean in to kiss him. He’s still got one hand on his dick, but he anchors the other in my hair and he doesn’tpullbut he does hold on, fingers threading through the strands and closing. I make an embarrassing noise into his mouth, and he tightens his grip the tiniest bit and scrapes his teeth along my bottom lip.
“You ready for me?” he asks, and then his slick fingers are between my legs, the pads against my opening, drifting back to circle my clit.Nowhe pulls with the hand that’s in my hair, just enough to tip my head back, exposing my throat, and I rock toward him. “Bad question. You’ve been ready and eager since you got into the back seat of that car, haven’t you?”
I swallow hard, my head still back.
“Before that,” I say, and slide onto him all at once. Javi gasps and his eyes go wide, then flutter to half-mast, his chest heaving, both his hands like iron on my hips. He’s holding me in place, fingers digging in so hard they’ll leave marks.
I hope they leave marks.
“Stay still,” he murmurs, head back against the headboard. “And tell me when you first wanted to fuck me.”
“When you first kissed me against the wall, maybe,” I murmur, clenching around him on purpose. He makes a small sound.
“You liked that?” he asks, throaty and wrecked. “When your friends were all there, drinking and laughing? You wanted to fuck me then?”
I did. God help me, I did. From the second I glanced across the bar and saw him staring at me, tall with shoulder-length dark hair, dark eyes, coppery skin, and ripped jeans. He looks Latino, maybe?
He rocks slightly, still pulling me down onto him, and my memory goes hazy.
“I wanted to pull you into the bathroom and bend over the sink,” I say, words spilling out of me without much intention. “I didn’t care if people saw.”
“I think you’d have let me do it,” he grinds out, and now we’re moving together hard, his hands still on my hips, his eyes locked on my face. “I think you’d have liked letting people watch you come on my cock in a bar bathroom. I think you’d have liked watching yourself in the mirror. But I wanted you before that.”
I grab the top of my headboard, grinding down hard, and try to focus. “When I told you my name was Madeline? Like the kids’ books with the nuns?”
Javier tongues one nipple, scrapes his teeth over it. Sucks it into his mouth until I moan.
“Before that,” he says, and gives it another hard suck. “I saw you across the bar and wanted to go ask if I could eat you out under the table.”
“Next time,” I say, and my goddamn phonerings. It rings so loud we both jump, and then I laugh. “Fuck. Sorry,” I murmur into his hair.
“Do you need to answer?”
