‘Your tongue is obscene.’ I sound hoarse as if I’ve been running, and of course, I mean his expression, but my mind is currently useless, my body drained of everything but the aftershocks of pleasure sparking between my legs.
‘Obscene?’ He quirks one lewd eyebrow as he helps lower my feet to the ground. He leaves his hands on my knees, preventing me closing them. ‘I did’nae hear many complaints just now.’ I mewl as he swipes one finger through my wetness as though to prove a point.
‘It wasn’t a complaint.’ My eyes flick to the bulge in his dark slacks. ‘And speaking of obscene... ’
His responding laughter is low and raspy as he stands and begins slowly unbuckling his belt. The grace of action is unhinging, my anticipation so great I find I’m holding my breath.
‘You look like a kid at Christmas.’
‘Stop talking,’ I answer. ‘I’m tired of imagining, show me the good—good God!’ As the side of his pants falls open, the monster I’ll be dealing with snakes from the band of his grey boxer briefs.
‘That won’t... I’ll never... ’ I shake my head, mentally calculating while almost salivating. He’s pierced through the top. A little barbell thing. I’m so going to ask him about that at some point. Who pierces the thing they love the most? Kit Tremaine, apparently. And he must love that beautiful monster because it looks so at home there in his hand.
‘Anyone ever tell you it’s impolite to stare?’ I shake my head because I have no words. ‘It’s a good job I quite like being watched.’
My eyes shoot to his then back again as he begins to jack himself slowly, the muscles under his tattoos tensing and bunching. I swear on all that is holy, my Rumlr feed has nothing on this man.
‘I want to fuck you so hard they’ll hear you in the reception—so the whole hotel knows my name.’ I squeak, moan, whatever as he begins walking backward towards the bed. ‘But we’ll go easy the first time, aye?’
‘F-first time?’
‘Come on, honey bee.’ He beckons me with a sinful smile and a crook of his finger. ‘Come ride my cock.’
The edge of the desk digs into my cheeks as I hop off, and by the time I’m in front of him, he’s toed off his shoes, and the rest of his clothing lies like wrapping paper across the floor. The man is big—no doubt about it. All defined muscles and abs you could climb, but big is such an inadequate word when it comes to what he holds in his hand.
And his piercing? I literally have no words.
