Dirty Little Secret(38)
The angle was just…God, just unbelievable. The firm sac hanging between his legs slapped just below her opening with every thrust, the crisp hair scraping the sensitive area over and over. But it was inside, where the hard push of his cock scraped her still-clenching walls, that made her eyes roll back in her head. Alex pounded her, his hunger palpable with every move, in every breath. His face tensed, and Cailin stared, fascinated, as the drive to completion played out for her to see mere inches from her eyes. Then the arm holding one of her knees bent, hard fingers grasped her hand, and Alex brought her fingers down to touch her clit.
Cailin startled. She’d never touched herself with a man staring into her eyes, and a rush of heat hit her veins quicker than anything she’d ever known.
Evidently Alex felt it too. “Fast, sweetheart,” he urged, his voice strained. “I won’t last long.”
Her hips tilted instinctively at the husky sound of his voice, firming the contact with her fingers. She wanted more. Hesitantly she explored their connection, feeling the wet evidence of her desire, the thin skin of lips stretched tight to accommodate him, the heavy weight of his shaft as he surged in and out without hesitation. At her touch, his breath hitched, his eyes glazed over, and he ground into her, hitting the opening to her womb and sparking a flame that flashed out of control. Her fingers flew, building the sensation in her clit as her gaze locked with Alex’s, and she savored the craving that built there in his eyes. And finally, strung tight on the wire of need, Cailin hit the pinnacle of sensation and flew back into the abyss. Only the hot surge of Alex’s release registered; everything else floated in the ether, unimportant, unwanted…
Until a discreet knock sounded at their door. “Room service, sir.”
Regret twinged as Alex kissed her quickly, then backed away, heading to the bath to retrieve one of the fluffy robes hanging there. While he walked through into the suite’s living area, Cailin tried to convince herself to move, but right now she resembled nothing so closely as a limp dishrag, so she stayed. When he returned, she still lay half on, half off the bed, just as he’d left her.
Alex chuckled. “Come on, sleepyhead. Dinner’s waiting.” He urged her up, into the bathroom, where he cleaned and enfolded her in the other fluffy robe while she resented his seemingly clear head. He tugged her into the front room still grumbling.
“Steaks,” he said, then chuckled when, aggravation forgotten, she flung herself across the room to lift the lids on the waiting food. The heavenly aroma of grilled meat filled the air, and her mouth watered. She’d told Alex once that she loved a thick, juicy steak better than any other meal, especially when a loaded baked potato shared the plate. He’d obviously remembered.
Annoyance faded, soothed by the fragrant offering. “Thank you.”
Alex shrugged. “I got dinner to please you. Dessert is for me.”
“Oh really? What did you get?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
She grinned. A challenge, huh? She liked this side of Alex. The heavy air that had surrounded him in the club the first night they’d met, the desperation in his eyes, had faded to a hard resolve over the few weeks that followed. If convincing himself to stay away from her took as much willpower for him as it had for her, that didn’t surprise her. Now that willpower had been turned into a determination to make their relationship—what little they could have—work. But he never lost that edge, that driven quality unless they were in bed, and sometimes not even then, she thought with a blush, remembering his handling of her not twenty minutes ago. This carefree aspect to his personality was new. He seemed happy. And she was happy to see him happy, silly as it sounded.
The chocolate mousse, they found, contrasted perfectly with her skin and complemented its salty bite, or so Alex said. All she knew was that concentrating on the nuances of flavor exploding on her tongue—and around Alex’s cock—went beyond her ability when he also had his tongue on her. Before long they were both hot, sweaty, sticky, and very satisfied. Cailin watched in dazed fascination as a tiny drop of moisture curved around Alex’s hip as he knelt above her, trying to catch his breath.
Good luck, she thought, lungs laboring. They might end up going back to work more exhausted, if happier, than when they’d left, if they kept this up. But after another shower and a short argument over whether or not she would wear pajamas—what if there’s a fire?—they lay spooned together under the covers, bare skin to bare skin. Of course.
THE FEEL OF her against him was like the softest silk. If he hadn’t already come twice in the past two hours, he’d have her under him in a heartbeat. As it was, he couldn’t convince his dick to subside, so he just cuddled the semihard length against Cailin’s full, beautiful ass and wallowed in the pleasure of having her in his arms. No saying good night, no sneaking around—they could pretend for just a little while that this was their life, that none of the rest of it existed, that they could truly and openly be together. That real life existed outside of these three short days, he knew, but for now the ostrich strategy sounded pretty good. Especially if it meant waking up with Cailin in the morning.