Moving to the other thigh, I drag my teeth over her flesh, then slowly lick that crease between her thigh and her sweet, greedy pussy.
She growls, the sound deep in her throat.
I lift my brows and tilt my head, running my tongue over my bottom lip slowly. My eyes close as I catch a hint of her arousal still lingering there.
Her cunt pulses around my fingers, trying to pull me in deeper.
“Max,” she snaps, and I lift my gaze. “Please.”
I move my fingers in a slow, teasing circle inside her.
“Please, Max,” she whines, tightening her fingers in my hair.
“Please what?” I say the words against her flesh, breathing against her heated skin.
“Please make me come,” she says, her voice breaking on the words. “Please, Max. I need you.”
“You have me, Sutton. I’m yours.” With that, I push my fingers inside, then pull out and add a third, watching her eyes roll back as I give her what she needs. Her body’s so ready to combust it takes just three pumps of my hand to get her there.
But I don’t stop just because she starts.
Her orgasm slams into her and I grip her hip when she tries to get away, pumping through each quake and tremor.
“Max,” she cries, but I hold onto her still.
“You can take it,” I promise, because she can.
Shedoes.
I hold her still even as her body tries to jerk off the bed, pumping my fingers in and out in punishing thrusts, prolonging her orgasm until it looks like her soul might leave her body.
By the time she starts to settle, her thighs tremble and tears leak from her beautiful eyes.
I rub my hand over her breasts, her stomach, down over her thigh and back up again, soothing her heated skin, bringing her back to me slowly. When I ease my fingers from her, she shudders from the loss of me.
When she finally opens her eyes again, they’re floating. She’s still somewhere between earth and wherever her orgasm just took her.
I kiss her lower belly, then push off the bed. “You need to eat. We’ve had a long night.”
“I want to sleep.”
“Fine. After you eat.” I lift one of the silver cloches from the dining cart. Beneath it is a stack of fluffy pancakes, now probably cold. “Pancakes?”
“Sleep.”
“First we eat, then we sleep.”
“What about check out time?”
“Don’t worry about that.” I move to the next plate and lift the cloche, revealing a bowl of fresh fruit. “Fruit?”
Sutton’s eyes light up, but, as she often does, she ignores what her body wants. “Sleep first. Then I’ll eat.”
“Nope.”
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I grab a strawberry and grip the leaves at the crown, then bring it to her lips. “Eat first, then sleep. And maybe I’ll leave you alone long enough that you can actually get some rest.”
She smirks, then licks her lips. “That sounds boring.”
