P.I.T.A. (L.A. Liaisons #3)(23)

"Left pocket."

After taking the foil packet out of his pants, I held it between my teeth so I could get the fucker beneath me good and naked. Once I'd rid him of his boxer briefs, I could only sit back on my heels and stare. Good God, the man was beautiful. And I hated to admit that, but there was no denying that if a perfect male specimen lived, Richard Dawson was pretty damn near close. From his shoulder-length blond hair that had come loose from its tie, to the sculpted limbs currently spread across my floor, not to mention the remnants of our food fight marking his chin, his abs, his arms. I'd never admit it to him or anyone, but spending a few hours learning his body with my tongue would not be a bad way to spend the night.

Dawson sat up on his elbows. "I'd be up for show-and-tell anytime you wish, love, but if you could sit on my cock sometime soon, I'd love to fuck you."

With a scowl, I ripped the foil packet open with my teeth and rolled it down his length. Then I straddled him, slowly bearing down on his erection inch by inch-reverse cowgirl style. Hah. Let him watch my ass instead.

The hitched breath and groans of pleasure I heard from behind me as I took him deep inside brought a smile to my face, and I was grateful I'd chosen this position. He felt so good, but I didn't want to let on just how good. Instead, once I took all of him I could get, I said over my shoulder, "I think you mean you'd like me to fuck you-" and then I began to move.



       
         
       
        

I rode him hard, squeezing my inner muscles on his cock as I circled my hips before sliding up and down, and his hands low on my waist urged me on. The rocking became more frenzied, and our movements frantic and rough, as we chased our climaxes. And it wasn't "Pita" he called out-it was "Paige."

"Paige," he said again, as my hips slowed, and as a bead of sweat fell down my back, I looked over my shoulder to see his finger swipe it away before bringing it to his mouth to taste. That one small action had me wanting a taste of my own, and I shifted so that I was facing him again.

Leaning down over him, our breaths still coming hard, I said, "So? How do I taste?"

Dawson's mouth curved up, and then he lifted his head to nip at my lip. "Fucking delicious."

Had he not kissed me again then, I would've heard the footsteps before the lights flipped on. But, of course, I was in a post-high state of bliss and raring up for round two, so when the lights did flip on and a loud "Oh my God!" echoed off the walls, I jerked back, my head whipping up as I grabbed the closest thing to me that could be used for self-defense-the ice cream vibrator.

"Paige?" Shayne's voice echoed off the walls as she stood at the entrance to the dining room, her jaw on the ground and her eyes on us. "Oh my God," she said again, and this time one of her hands went over her eyes while she fumbled to turn the lights back off with the other.

"This isn't what it looks like," I said immediately, looking down at our whipped-cream-Nutella-ice-cream-laced bodies and dropping the vibrator. "I just slipped and fell on top of him."

"Your vagina just slipped onto his penis?"

I looked down to where we were still joined, and smirked at Dawson as I told Shayne, "Oh, is that what that nudge was? It's so small I could barely feel it."

Dawson growled, and as he tickled over a sensitive spot below my waist, I yelped.

"Oh bugger, stop, stop, I just forgot … my wallet … on the … thing," Shayne said, still holding her hand over her eyes as she carefully tiptoed around the spots of dessert scattered all over the floor. "Let me … grab it and get out of your way."

With a smile tugging at his lips, Dawson said, "Hey, Shayne, maybe you could bring us another can of whipped cream and join us. What do you say?"

"What?" Shayne said, whirling around with a horrified expression on her face, but she turned around too fast, because her feet slipped on some of the melted ice cream and she went down hard on her ass. "Oh, ow, bloody hell."

With her eyes closed, she felt for the wall and then tried to slide through the mess to get to the kitchen. Watching her try to feel around the counter for her wallet had amused chuckles escaping both me and Dawson, and once she'd gotten what she came for, she proceeded to crawl out of the kitchen on her hands and knees. She wasn't very good at the game, though, because she knocked her head on the doorframe, and it sent us into fits of laughter that didn't stop as she slipped and slid her way to the front door. 

"It was just a joke, Shayne, promise," Dawson called out, but my poor hooker was entirely traumatized, waving us off as she managed to finally get the door open, and then it slammed shut behind her.

But when the laughs subsided and reality set back in, I looked at Dawson and he looked back at me, and just like that, the bridge that had allowed us to cross the chasm between us was gone. With a reluctant smile, he helped me to my feet, his eyes roving over me again as mine did the same. This was the last time I'd see him naked, but naked and covered in Nutella was quite a way to go.

Then he went to his separate shower, and I went to mine, the distance between us feeling greater than ever, even though we'd never been closer. And as the warm spray rinsed off the remains of our food fight, the only thing I could think of were the words Dawson had spoken earlier, now on repeat in my brain.

"You think I'd waste so much time if I didn't want to be here? If I didn't think you felt the same? If I didn't want to be here … if I didn't want to be here … "





CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Don't Let the Door Hit You in the Ass





I WOKE UP the next morning to a darkened room, an empty bed, and flashes of Dawson between my thighs the night before. It was like Vegas round two, only I didn't have a massive hangover, and I actually remembered everything this time. My body did feel a bit bruised and worse for wear, though-hard surfaces weren't the ideal places to get it on, and-

Fuck me, did we really do that again?

Groaning, I turned my face into my feather pillow-that did not smell like him this time, thankfully. My hair was still damp from the post-coital shower that had been necessary after the food fight that had left us sticky and covered in leftover dessert. At least, the dessert we hadn't eaten off each other.

What the hell had gotten into me last night? It was like all the fighting between us had built to the point where it was either fuck or kill each other. So, really, the only way to avoid a jail sentence had been to screw my husband.

My husband.

Weird.

Still …  I couldn't deny that last night had been hot-more than hot. Just remembering the way he'd wielded that vibrator over all my most sensitive areas had my thighs clenching and a throb beginning between my legs. Okay, so flat out-Dawson's reputation was more than deserved. He'd been confident and in control, giving just enough to keep me on edge and hungry for more. And let's face it, any guy who could make me come multiple times before bothering to think about himself was a man worthy of a second round. Though he'd had no problem getting what he'd wanted for himself after.

Damn. There hadn't been many times I'd been shocked speechless by a partner, but Dawson taking the lead last night and acting on the sexual tension in the air had done it.

Hmm. Maybe I should go check and make sure we were good and there would be no awkwardness. Last night had been a … tension release … of sorts. So, yes, I should definitely go check on him … and not because I was looking for an encore or anything. Although, if there was more where last night came from, I'd be tempted to proposition him with an occasional fuck buddies pass.

Carefully opening my door a crack, I peered down the hall, and when I didn't see Shayne or any of the household staff that were due this morning roaming about, I tiptoed out and knocked softly on his door. When there was no answer, I knocked a bit harder. Still nothing.



       
         
       
        

Moving my hand to the door handle, I slowly turned it to the right and-

"He's already gone," my housekeeper, Adeline, said, causing me to jump and take my hand off the handle. She'd backed into the foyer, her head down and following the back-and-forth of her mop as she cleaned the hardwood.

"What? Who?" I asked.

Adeline stopped and pointed at the room I stood in front of. "Mr. Dawson has already left."

"Oh." Part of me was relieved at that. The other part was feeling antsy to make sure he knew that was a one-off and wouldn't be happening again. Well … maybe not a one-off, since it'd happened before, but since this was the time I remembered, it might as well be the first. "Did he, uh … say where he was going?"

"No, he did not leave his messages with me."

"Right … of course not," I said, watching her dunk the mop into the soapy water and then scrub at the floor. Oh God, the mess that poor woman had to deal with. "Shit, Adeline, I'm so sorry the dining room was wrecked-"

"The dining room, the kitchen, the hallway, the foyer … " She waved me off. "Hurricane Paige rolled through. All fine."