“I want your cock, Mark.”
“In a minute,” I reply. “I want to make you come before we reach our floor.”
“Oh God,” she groans as her hips circle and push against my fingers, finally crying out, biting my shoulder as she erupts on my hand. “Holy shit.”
The doors open and I scoop her up and carry her to our suite. “I’m not even close to done with you.”
“Thank God.”
Chapter Eighteen
~Meredith~
Am I going to throw up? I lie still and take stock of my stomach, head, body. All seem to be in working order. My stomach isn’t rolling, which is a good sign because with the amount of alcohol I consumed last night, I should be violently ill. I never drink like that.
My mouth is as dry as can be, I’m sure I have dragon breath, and if I don’t pee right now, I’m pretty sure my bladder is going to explode.
I roll out of bed and shuffle into the bathroom, take care of business, then splash water on my face and brush my teeth, scrubbing the foul remnants from last night out of my mouth. When I’m finished, I rub my eyes, then take a good look at myself in the mirror.
Holy. Shit.
Mascara is smeared down my cheeks¸ my blond hair is a messy tangle and I have hickeys on my breasts.
I close my eyes and feel myself go wet when I remember how Mark worshiped my breasts last night, his words of appreciation for the boob pic I sent him, how they turn him on.
Who knew a boob pic would have that reaction?
I want to go wake him up with my mouth on his body, but he can’t see me like this so I start the shower and get in before it heats up, shocking my body awake. I wash my face and scrub my body then stand under the stream and wash my hair.
Just as I’m finally feeling human again, the door to the shower opens and Mark steps in and silently wraps me in his strong arms, hugging me close.
“Good morning,” I murmur against his chest.
“’Mornin’,” he replies, his voice still rough from sleep. He’s warm and smooth and perfect for leaning on right now. “How are you feeling, baby?”
“Better now that I’ve scrubbed every inch of me.” I grin up at him and feel my heart stumble when he returns my smile with sleepy blue eyes. “How about you?”
“I woke up missing you.” He kisses my forehead and turns us so he’s in the water. “And I think I smell bad.”
“We got very dirty last night.” I go to work washing him and watch my hands glide over his tight body, the muscles in his stomach, his amazing arms, his hips. “I see I put a few marks of my own on you last night,” I murmur when he turns and I see the nail marks on his back.
“You were enthusiastic,” he says with a chuckle.
“Back at you.”
“I’m always enthusiastic when it comes to you.”
“Back at you again.” He spins back around and washes his hair, then leads us out of the shower and tenderly dries me off, his hands gentle and thorough, making my body come alive again. Instead of leading me back to the bed when we’re dry, he guides me to the vanity and turns on the blow dryer and dries my hair, strand-by-strand, brushing through it with his fingers, quietly watching his own hands in my blond strands. He’s quiet this morning, thoughtful, and he’s taking care of me.
When my hair is dry, I turn the tables on him, blowing his hair dry. He watches me with amused eyes, his hands on my hips, until every hair on his handsome head is dry.
“Meredith.” He takes the dryer from my hand and sets it on the counter, then circles his arms around my waist and tips his forehead down to rest on mine.
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
I grin and drag my fingertips down his face as he lays his lips on mine, gently sweeping them back and forth, nibbles the corner of my mouth, nuzzles my nose. My nipples pebble as his hands glide up to my ribcage, but he doesn’t move farther up to cup them. He continues to simply kiss me, our naked bodies aroused and pressed together, against the bathroom vanity. When he kisses my nose and forehead again, I drag my hands over his hips and am about to circle his hard, thick cock when he catches my wrists in his hands and holds me away.
“I want to touch you,” I whisper.
“Not yet.” He nuzzles my nose again, a small smile on his lips to soften the rejection. “I just want to kiss you.”
“Really?” I cock a brow and glance down at his cock. “That’s not what it looks like.”
Without another word, he turns and leads me back to the bedroom, lifts me onto the center of the bed and joins me. But instead of climbing on top of me and making love to me, he lies next to me, facing me, presses his hand to the small of my back and pulls me into him and claims my lips again with his, kissing me slowly. It’s lazy and gentle. Our legs tangle, I bury my fingers in his hair and hold on as he sweeps those amazing lips back and forth across mine, then slips his tongue in my mouth, as though I’m a delicacy he wants to nibble on.