My palms squeaked on the glass, reminding me to push them back up.
Dalton and I hadn’t been together since that night in my bedroom, before the LA trip and all those fights.
I’d been so scared we’d never touch each other again, and scared we would. I glanced over at the door to the room. How fast could I run in these crazy shoes? Not fast at all! Maybe that was why he chose them.
With one smooth movement, he reached up and yanked my panties down and off. With the next movement, his finger was between my swollen lips, gliding against my slick skin and probing that hot, swollen spot that made me whimper.
He stayed kneeling, kissing my lower back and the sides of my hips and legs, his hand clutching at me rhythmically, fingers delving inside.
He continued doing this until I was about to burst, then eased off. After a gentle bite on my lower back, he said, “You’re the most beautiful sight in all of San Francisco.”
“You make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.”
He got to his feet, and a second later, his jeans hit the ground.
“You’re about to get very lucky,” he breathed, his voice husky and sexy.
“Break me.” I took a small step sideways with one foot and leaned forward, my hands inching up on the glass and my forehead touching the cool surface. I was burning up, my skin hot and wet all over.
A wrapper crinkled.
“Say it again,” he murmured.
I licked my lips and arched my back some more. “Break me, Dalton Deangelo. Shake me. Take me. Break me.”
His cock slid between my legs, then smoothly against my pussy, lengthwise. He moved in close, the front of him pressing against my back as I straightened up my torso for more contact.
He slid back and forth, gliding between my folds, the head nudging my clit as it appeared and disappeared between my legs. I looked down at his bare feet, on the floor between mine. His toes flexed up and down as he adjusted his position. He kept teasing me with his cock, slowing and pressing against my opening, nudging in briefly before slipping away and gliding past.
“Break me,” I said.
He grabbed my breasts through my bra and cupped them firmly. Still he teased my pussy, his long, thick cock sliding forward and back lengthwise, the condom fully lubricated and slippery by now.
“Fuck me,” I said.
His breath caught in his throat. He pulled back and slipped in with one firm thrust.
I cried out so loud, it was practically a scream.
His hands were everywhere, and he plunged in and out of me in desperation. He slipped one hand down my front, where he spread me apart and rubbed my clit in rhythm as he pounded me from behind. My hands were slipping all over the glass, and the movement pushed me forward, until my breasts were also mashing against the glass. I could barely catch my breath, let alone find something to hold onto.
I felt his pressure build, but I was too excited, too nervous. “Go ahead,” I said.
With a grunt, he did, pounding harder and faster into me until he lost his rhythm and jerked against me, helpless in the rushing stream of his own pleasure.
When he was finished, he gently bit my shoulder and rested against me. By now, I felt like the lunch meat in a Dalton-window sandwich, which is a little awkward, but not in a bad way.
I stared down at the tiny cars on the street below and wondered if any of the tiny people were looking up at me. They might wonder why a naked girl was panting and sliding around on a window.
Dalton pulled out and away, excusing himself and disappearing to the washroom.
A moment later, he popped open the door and called out, “Get in here! You need to see this tub.”
“Do I need to wear the shoes?” I took two tentative steps to turn myself around and found myself teetering and grabbing for the nearby curtains to keep myself from wiping out. Real sexy, Peaches.
“You don’t need those shoes in the tub!” he replied.
“Not anywhere,” I muttered as I carefully stepped out of them and down to solid ground.
CHAPTER 19
I pulled the cord to shut the curtains, then slipped off my bra and walked over to the bathroom.
He met me at the door, a towel slung around his waist.
Kissing my neck, he said, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you. I want to make you come tonight. Many times.”
“It’s been a long day.” I looked over at the tub, which was the size of a multi-person jacuzzi. Dalton had turned the water on and it was filling via multiple spouts. “Let’s pace ourselves,” I said.
As the tub filled, I carefully removed my beautiful new watch and set it on the counter.
I climbed into the hot, welcoming bath, and soon we were bobbing around in sudsy, fragrant hot water. (Okay, one of us was “bobbing” a little more than the other, and I do mean my peaches.)