Too perfect.
Then he pulls himself from my mouth, shifts back on his knees, parts my thighs, and with his fingers parts my pussy lips. He laps his long tongue firm and velvet, wet and warm, from cunt to clit, and I scream.
His fingers in my cunt. One finger gently pressuring my asshole. I gasp as the tip of it pushes inside my tight hole. That feels…kind of good. It makes me feel so full. It’s almost scary, but I like it, because it’s not all he’s doing.
Hansel is licking my pussy like…I’m ice cream. Icing. Melted chocolate. That tongue has got me spreading my legs open wide, lifting my ass up off the mattress so I can experience more of that tongue.
I strain against the sheet around my wrists because I want to push his head down, grab onto it like he did mine and hold him there until—
Until…
His tongue. Soft warm firm velvet, languid, warm and oh so slick.
“Leah,” he breathes between my lips.
His tongue traces a delicate circle around my clit, and then his slick and expert lips close around it, sucking gently as his tongue teases my slit.
His fingers in me fill me up: stretching, pushing so much that it hurts; but it hurts good.
“It feels so good.”
His tongue skates from my sopping entrance through my swollen lips, and circles all around my clit. And then, when the scream is in my throat, he withdraws it all.
My hands are untied, quick, and snatched down to my sides. With his hands on the inside of my thighs, he pushes slowly in, then punches deep inside me.
I scream.
I sink my fingernails into his taut asscheeks, and he groans, “Harder. Harder, Leah.” I squeeze harder as my orgasm rips through me, taking out my pleasure on the smooth globes of his ass. Just when my head is clearing and I’m starting to worry about how much my nails are hurting him, I feel the tension leave his body, braced above me. He drops down atop me, shoves a little deeper, till I feel his cock in every nerve and cell of my glittering body. His head drops down, and warmth shoots into me.
And then it’s morning.
He’s in one bed. I’m in the other. But hey…no wall.
I’m so tired from a good night’s sleep, I can hardly remember how it happened.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Leah
Everything is different today.
Maybe it’s the frigid air blowing down over the mountains, turning the sunlight pale and filmy, like the dull light of a memory. Maybe it’s the cinnamon rolls, which I haven’t eaten much since the summer I was thirteen, and Lana went insane for all things cinnamon, forcing Laura and I to join her on a Cinnamon Toast Cereal diet for a whole week. Maybe it’s the waking up beside him. The way his eyes roll over me as he props his hand up on his head: possessive, almost. Thirsty.
He doesn’t speak to me, just checks me over with his eyes, but I can tell from the moment he walks across the room and pushes one of the curtains open, then turns and walks toward the bathroom, that he isn’t angry today. Not like yesterday.
He’s in the bathroom for a few minutes, and I hear the shower going, so I grab the sheet off my bed, wrap it around myself, and start to pad back to my own room to get dressed. The door bathroom door opens out in front of me just as I approach. He’s standing there with a towel tucked around his hips, steam drifting out into the room.
“I ran the water for you,” he says simply.
Then he steps into the little hall area and nods at the bathroom.
My stomach clenches. “Thank you.”
I don’t have any of my toiletries on hand, but I’ll be damned if I won’t enjoy the shower he ran for me, so I step into the bathroom, shut the door and drop the sheet, and get into the shower with a handful of hotel soaps.
“Ahhh.” I sigh.
There’s nothing like a nice, hot shower.
A few seconds later, I hear the door open, and my heart begins to race. The curtain opens just a little, and my soaps and shampoo appear on the tub’s side.
“Take your time,” he says. I see a brief flash of his big hand, pulling shut the curtain. Then he’s gone.
I do what he says and take my time bathing every part of myself. I think about last night with him, unable to keep my mind from the gutter of reimagining his gorgeous cock. I used to laugh at Lana for calling it a cock, but now I understand completely. When it’s that big, when it’s that perfect, there’s no other word.
As I wash my hair, my thoughts turn to Mother’s house, and to the day she took me. I let the memories play out even though they make me sick—or maybe that’s the hot water. I turn the shower off and dry myself, and then the door opens again, and he rolls my suitcase inside.
He’s quick. It’s really just his arm I see, and then the door is shut again.