Taking my sweet time, I kiss the inside of her thighs, nose a line from her pussy to her navel, and not until she squirms, jutting her hips, do I suck her into my mouth.
A satisfied gasp falls from her lips, launching a brand-new flavor of desire straight to my aching cock. I can wait. I need her orgasm more than my own.
“Cody...” she tuts, weaving her fingers through my hair. “A little faster, please.”
I lick her, increasing both the tempo and pressure. She tastes fucking divine. I push two fingers inside, my cock pulsing in time with her pussy. She’s on edge within minutes. Her breathing pattern changes, her moans become louder, and that’s when I stop and move back. Her eyes fly open in an accusatory stare.
“You’ll make a mess of the bed, baby, and I’m not spending another night on the floor,” I explain, hooking my arms under her back and knees to haul her up. “We’ll finish in the shower.”
“I don’t care where,” she sighs, clinging close enough to brush her lips along my neck.
I stand her in the walk-in shower, turn the water on, and adjust the temperature before I kneel. Draping her right leg over my shoulder, I latch onto her clit, slip two digits inside her, and get to work. The pace is nowhere near as mellow as on the bed. I’m done teasing. I want her to come, then come again, then over and over again on my cock until she can’t move her legs.
She squirts a minute later, biting her hand to muffle the squeals. Hotel walls are paper-thin, and it’s already six in the morning. I’m not as ostentatious as Conor, who didn’t mind Colt and me hearing Vee scream down his bedroom while we lived at Nico’s. They were loud enough to wake me up sometimes.
I’m less inclined to such theatrics. I’m possessive as fuck over those sweet sounds B makes. They’re for my ears and my ears alone. All of her is just for me. No one can watch or listen.
“One more, then—”
“Later,” she pants, her thighs quivering. She unhooks her leg and gently tugs my hair, signaling she wants me to stand. “Let’s see how strong my man is.”
With a gracefulhop, she’s in my arms, her legs wrapped around my middle, arms holding onto my neck. “Press me against the wall and have your way with me.”
I smirk, tucking a few wet strands of dark hair behind her ears. “You need a hate-fuck, baby?”
She nods, biting her bottom lip. “I want to feel you every time I sit down tomorrow. Maybe even the day after.”
No more encouragement is necessary. I press her against the tiles, my hand cradling the back of her head to break the impact. I slam into her as soon as she’s pinned to the wall. She yelps a resounding “Yes!” and sinks her nails into my back.
“Remember your safe word, B, and don’t let anyone overhear us. I won’t be happy if you wake anyone up.”
“I promise I’ll be quiet.”
“Good girl. Lean your head on my shoulder and bite down if you can’t keep it in.”
Pulling my hips back, I drive myself home, sinking balls-deep in one sharp thrust. Then again, and again, harder, and faster, spurred by Blair’s almost soundless mewls in my ear, and her nails carving long lines down my back.
She does a beautiful job of keeping quiet, and an even more beautiful job of branding me with a big, stinging hickey when we come in sync. I bet it’ll be sore as long as her pussy.
Still wet, and now utterly boneless, she clings to me as I carry her to bed and tuck her into my side. It’s light out, the clock showing half-past six in the morning.
***
Sunday passes in an utterly uneventful blur. By the time we dragged ourselves out of bed it was past lunchtime, and most of the guests had already left. Dressed, packed, and fed, we got on the road in Blair’s Porsche, with Ana tucked in the back. Six hours later—thanks to a lot of restroom breaks—we arrived home and spent the rest of the evening in my condo.
It’s Monday that brings a sliver of closure.
Logan wasn’t at all surprised when I texted him late on Sunday, saying I needed a day off after Blair slipped up and told me about her father’s imminent visit.
I was itching all morning, hoping he’d give me a reason to break his jaw. While we waited for the fucker to show up, I reviewed her condo purchase documents to ensure the place was legally hers. Once that was out of the way, I called two guys to replace the locks in case her father had a copy of the key.
“Did he call?” I ask B, watching her unpack a suitcase. “It’s getting late.”
Just as she opens her mouth to answer, a faint knock resonates in the hallway. It’s not on Blair’s door, though, it’s on mine.
My muscles seize painfully as I cross the kitchen, flinging the door open. Instead of Gideon, like I expect, Nico turns to look at me. He hasn’t casually dropped by since... ever.
He never arrives unannounced, and never for chit-chat, so the cold shiver sliding down my spine is warranted.
