Page 18 of Last Resort

His chuckle is barely audible over the slick sounds of him fucking me. “You sure you’re ready?”

I grip his biceps. “Now. Fuck me, now.”

And thank God, he obliges me because he picks up the pace. A little harder on the thrust in. A lot more urgent on the piston out. I try to meet him with each movement, but thoughts escape me in much the same way as having control over my body right now.

All I can focus on is him.

And the slapping sound when our centers meet.

And the way he makes my nerves burn so bright I’d swear they were made of fire.

His fingers dig into the flesh of my hips.

My pulse roars in my ears and all I can focus on is that spot. The one he keeps rubbing with each movement. Over and over and over.

The orgasm slams into me like a freight train. There’s no other way to describe the utter devastation it has on me or the current of bliss that ricochets through my body with each and every wave. My toes curl, my legs tense, and my pussy pulses around him. My eyes close and I emit the most guttural groan I’ve ever heard.

“Fuck,” he groans as he keeps going, keeps fucking, until it’s his voice crying out as he chases his own.

He collapses onto the bed beside me as we both gasp for breath and try to process the incredulity that just was.

“Fuck, Collins,” Johnnie murmurs. He leans up on an elbow and captures my mouth with his again. “You are incredible and I’m going to need to have you again.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Sutton

Four Hours Ago

“I need one more taste of you before I go.”

I half chuckle, half sigh as I feel the silkiness of Johnnie’s hair against my inner thighs and the warmth of his tongue licking its way between my now swollen slit.

My legs are slightly sore but the tightness is quickly forgotten as the mastery of his tongue makes everything else fade away.

Does the man ever tire?

Considering my orgasm slowly simmering beneath the surface, for my sake, I’m glad he doesn’t.

I close my eyes and sink into the pleasure he provides—

Ring.

I bolt up in bed, slightly disoriented in the dim light of the unfamiliar room and try to catch my startled breath.

The phone.

Get the phone.

I look at the nightstand beside me where the phone is lit up as it rings and scramble over to grab it.

“Hello?” I say in my sleep garbled voice.

“Good morning, ma’am,” a very efficient-sounding woman says. “I just wanted to let you know that your order is on the way up. The concierge will leave it at the door for you.”

“I didn’t order anything . . .” I take a quick look around the hotel room and realize there is absolutely zero trace of the man I was with last night. My purse and phone are still on the table across the way.

“Someone did and he had very exact instructions on delivery time and process,” she says. “Please let us know if you need anything else.”