“I don’t know about forever. But we’ve got today.” I pulled him closer, needing the weight of him, the certainty of this moment and nothing more.
“Fucking right we do.” His hips punched forward, his cock hitting deep. “Better make good use of the time.”
What was slow and steady turned urgent, almost defiant. Not frantic but driven. Like we were trying to outrun the ticking clock neither of us wanted to acknowledge.
His control didn’t disappear. If anything, it sharpened. Every movement was deliberate. Every glide of his cock, every stroke of his hand, intentional.
He wasn’t chasing his own release. He was focused on mine.
I tried to stretch it out, to savor it, but the build was relentless. And as the orgasm ripped through my body, I screamed.
“Fuck, yes,” Eric shouted.
His own release followed close behind, his breath ragged against my skin as he held me through the last of the tremors.
For a few suspended seconds, there was nothing but us. Heat, heartbeats, and the illusion that the world outside didn’t exist.
Then a door slammed somewhere nearby.
The spell cracked.
“I don’t want to hear any more of your excuses, Rick,” a woman’s voice snapped from just outside our door. “There’s always an excuse.”
“Sweet Pea, you know it’s not an excuse,” a man shot back, voice defensive and tired. “I didn’t get any sleep. What do you expect?”
“Once. Just once. I expect something other than disappointment. I want you to make me scream like the chick we heard this morning. You’ve never done that for me. She gets it three times in one damn day. Me? Not once.”
She stormed off down the hall, leaving her man, Rick, mumbling to himself about sleepless nights, men who used Viagra, and wives who watch too much reality TV.
I buried my face in Eric’s shoulder, shaking with laughter.
In my head, I pictured Rick standing outside our door, debating whether to knock and start a fight or ask for tips.
A few seconds later, footsteps shuffled past, and a low, irritated, “Thanks a lot, asshole,” carried through the wood.
“Oh my God,” I gasped between laughs. “Did that actually just happen? We’re absolutely getting kicked out.”
Eric was laughing too, with one arm draped over his eyes. “Relax. My family owns the place—remember? Poor bastard probably doesn’t even know who to complain to. I do feel a little guilty for making him look bad, though.”
“You make every man look bad.”
“If you keep saying shit like that, Jamie, I’m going to have no choice but to throw you down and prove myself all over again.”
“What? It’s a compliment. What on earth do you think you have left to prove?”
“I’m a man. There’s always something to prove.” The way he said it made heat curl through me.
“Save it for later.” I forced myself to sit up. “You wore me out. I’m going to feel this for a week.”
He watched me as I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, the humor fading from his expression. “Where are you going?”
“I need a shower.” I stretched carefully, my muscles protesting. “I plan to be fully clothed when the manager comes knocking. And you promised me breakfast.”
“I did?”
“Well, it was implied. Unless you plan on going naked, I suggest you hop in the shower with me.”
Eric seemed just as worn out as I felt. The cocky comments about proving himself disappeared the second we stepped under the hot spray.
