A Week in New York(5)

“Jesus,” I cried out as I felt him at the end of me.

“Yes, baby. That’s it. We’re going to be doing this all night.”

He found his rhythm and I could do nothing but comply. Right then, I would do whatever the hell he asked me to do. And he was the sort of man who would ask for everything.

“All night. We’re going to fuck until you’re sore and still begging me for more. Do you hear me?”

“More. Harder,” I choked.

He grunted and increased his rhythm, pushing farther and farther into me. The rumbling of my orgasm started somewhere far off.

“I can feel you. You feel so good. And you’re close. Aren’t you?” he asked.

“Yes, so close.”

And then he pulled out and I felt his fingers fall from my body. Panicked, I looked over my shoulder.

“I have to see your face. On your back.”

I scrambled to my back, desperate to feel him again, and he pulled me down the bed closer to him and pushed into me again. Oh yes, that was it … right there.

He didn’t take his eyes off of me as my orgasm built again. He put one of my legs over his shoulder and the change in position sent me hurtling toward that light again. I arched off the bed as my orgasm gripped me. Ethan’s rhythm didn’t alter, not for a second, and each stroke pulled out another level of pleasure until I was sure that I would pass out. When it finally subsided enough for me to open my eyes, he was above me still, pushing into me, looking at me.

A second after our eyes met, I felt him tense and watched his eyes cloud as his climax washed over him.

He rolled off me, disposed of his condom, and his hands felt for my body and pulled at me, bringing me closer to him. I got up and went to the bathroom. I was here to have fun, not to cuddle.

I sat on the edge of the bath, still weak from my orgasm, still not quite understanding how sex could be that amazing with a man I just met. I groaned and pushed my hands through my hair. I had to get out of there, before things got awkward. I grabbed a robe from the back of the bathroom door and drew it around me.

As I peeked out the door, Ethan lay sprawled on the bed looking at the ceiling, as if defeated. I smiled and headed to the living room.

“Anna?” I heard him call from the bedroom. I ignored him as I picked up my clothes from the various points around the room at which they were discarded.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice closer now. I looked up and found him looking at me from the doorway.

“Umm. I’m finding my clothes. I need to get going—”

Ethan strode across the room, grabbed me by the bottom, lifted me over his shoulder, marched back to the bedroom, and threw me on the bed.

“You’re not going anywhere. I told you we’re going to fuck all night, and I’m not nearly halfway finished.”





Chapter Three




Ethan

It was hot. Even this early, it was too fucking hot. I was sweating already and I hadn’t even reached the Turtle Pond. I had been close to waking her up and burying myself in her again this morning, she looked so fucking sexy as she slept. But I didn’t do morning sex. So I left her there, looking sexy as hell, and now I was running off my hard-on.

Wrong choice, bud, my dick whispered to me. No morning sex was a rule of mine. I liked that she had rules, too. I grinned as I remembered her trying to think them up on the spot. Mine were set in stone and no morning sex was at the top of the list—Number One. Number Two was no sleepovers. Everything looked different in the morning. More real. And I didn’t do real. Not with women. It was only ever sex. Great sex. Lots of sex. Lots of women. But nothing more. More than that was too complicated, and rule Number Three was I didn’t do complicated.

I wasn’t sure who fell asleep first but I hadn’t gotten around to leaving the hotel. I’d booked the suite earlier in the day. I didn’t bring women back to my place—rule Number Four—and I was tired of schlepping over to bridge-and-tunnel land. Did no one live in Manhattan anymore? The Mandarin Oriental always impressed, and besides I loved the view from the Oriental Suite.

My cell rang and I took it, pleased to have a distraction. “Scott,” I answered.

“Hey. How’d you do last night?” It was Andrew. We’d known each other since college and we had a healthy competition between us in everything we did.

“Good. I’m out on my run.”

“Man, I’m sorry you didn’t score.” He was baiting me and I wasn’t biting. “Maybe you’re just too old for the young, hot girls these days. You should think about settling down before the quality of women who will fuck you dives too low.”

“You have me bent over double from laughing, you prick.”