He grins. "I'll definitely take that as a compliment, sweetheart." He spins me around to face the shower wall and pins my hands above my head. "I only washed your front. Can't miss the opportunity to wash the other side."
"You're so thoughtful," I start, but I'm immediately distracted by his hands traveling down my hips and ass, and then between my legs.
"People tell me that a lot," he says.
"Yes," I murmur, as his fingers find their way inside me. I can't follow the conversation anymore; all I can think about is his fingers and what they're doing. I move to turn around, but he reaches up with his other hand and pushes my palms firmly against the shower wall again.
"Assume the position," he says, and I can't help but giggle.
"What position is that?"
"It's whatever position I put you in," he says, and the throbbing between my legs intensifies. Damn Gaige. He says the kind of things that my brain tells me I should think are totally misogynistic and repulsive things to say, yet my body seems to feel exactly the opposite.
"You think I'm just going to do whatever you tell me to do?" I ask. But I don't move my hands. I stand there, letting the hot water pour over me. When Gaige steps out of the shower, the blast of air-conditioned air hits me. For a second, I think he's just decided to leave, but he pops back inside, foil wrapper in hand.
He covers my palms with his, my hands still above my head, and leans in close to my ear. "I think you're going to do what I tell you to do," he says, sliding one hand down my arm, then along my back, and over my ass. "Because you like that someone has the balls to do it."
I laugh. "And you think you're the one with the balls?"
I hear the wrinkle of the foil wrapper, and I swear, I practically melt at the sound. What the hell is Gaige doing to me? Then his hand is on my hip, and he's pressing against my entrance, and with one swift movement, he's inside me.
"I know I am, sweetheart," he says, thrusting deeper inside me, until I feel his heavy balls pressed up against the bottom of my pussy. His palms cover my breasts, and he moves slowly inside me as the warm water from the shower pours over us. "Now, I want you to touch your clit for me. Rub it while I fuck you."
A moan escapes my lips as I comply. As if I'm not going to listen to an order like that. Pleasure courses through my body, bringing me higher and higher until I'm calling out Gaige's name again and again, hoping the shower drowns out my cries.
"I'm going to come in you, darlin'. Do you hear me?" Gaige's voice is strained.
I grunt my response, too caught up in my own pleasure to form words, but Gaige grabs a handful of hair and pulls my head back. "Tell me you want me to come inside you," he demands.
As if on cue, I'm on the edge as soon as he orders me to say it. "Please," I beg. "Please." It's all I can say. I had no idea someone talking to me so crudely could be so damn hot.
"Fuck," he groans, his hand still tight on my hair. The pain heightens the intensity of everything, and I'm putting more pressure on my clit, completely swept away in the moment. "Tell me, darlin'."
"Oh God," I gasp. "Fill me with your cum."
Gaige lets go of my hair, both hands on my waist as he thrusts inside me one last time, crying out, the sound almost feral. His orgasm triggers mine, and I feel myself crashing over the edge. His grip on me is tight, his fingers embedded so deeply in my flesh that it's the only way I don't fall over when I come, his arms wrapping around my chest, drawing me close to him.
It's a few minutes before either of us speak, my head too foggy from my orgasm. We just stand there, Gaige still inside me, his body pressed against mine.
"God, I really like how you are in bed," Gaige says.
"Thanks, I guess? You haven't actually been to bed with me yet."
"That's right," he says, slapping my ass. He slides out of me and steps out of the shower. "We'll have to remedy that."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Gaige
I'm lying on her bed, still wrapped in a towel and reading her novel, when Delaney comes out of the bathroom. Before I can even make a comment about the book, she's snatched it out of my hand.
"Why are you reading this?"
"Because it was sitting on your pillow."
"So you thought that was an invite?" She's shoving it in her desk drawer, hiding it away, I suppose with good reason because that book was pretty fucking dirty. I knew Delaney had a wild side to her.
"An invite is me telling you to sit on my face," I say. "You leaving your dirty books lying around just means anyone can pick them up and read them."
"It's not a dirty book," she says.
"Really?" I ask, getting up and rushing toward her desk. She lunges back toward the desk, going for the desk drawer, but she misses, and I pull the book out, flipping open to one of the pages. Delaney jumps up, one hand holding the towel around her breasts. Honestly, the only reason I even hold the book out of her reach is because I want her to lose the towel. I read from the book: "Brayden thrust his throbbing manhood into her slick channel of love. Holy shit, what the fuck is a channel of love?"
"Stop. Seriously!" Delaney reaches one more time for the book, and I slip my finger under the edge of her towel, watching it fall to the ground. Then, satisfied, I return the book back to her. She groans her frustration, and when she bends over to pick up her towel, I make sure to get an ass-smack in.
"Goddamn, I'm not going to get tired of slapping you on the ass like that," I say.
When she stands up, her eyes are flashing. "What the hell was that for?" she asks. "You really are twelve years old, aren't you?"
"You liked it before."
"That was different," she says, bringing the towel back up around her, but I wrench it away from her.
"Stay naked," I tell her. "I like you uncovered better." It's true. Shit, this girl makes me wound up, just looking at that curvy ass and tits. I'm not sure what the hell I'm still doing in her room, except that I don't want to stop touching her. Not yet.
Delaney squirms away, grabbing the towel from me and wrapping herself up again. As if I didn't just have my hands all over that naked body of hers. As if I weren't just inside her.
She sits down against the pillows on the bed, setting her book on the bedside table. "Do you think our parents are home?"
I shrug. "Who cares?"
"You don't think they heard anything, do you?"
"In this house?" I ask. "No. Are you worried?"
"Aren't you?"
"Nope," I say, lying down beside her on the bed. "Not in the least."
"Your boot is off," she says.
"You're just noticing that shit now?" I ask. "Seriously?"
"I noticed before," she says. "But that was upstairs when we were…"
"Fucking?"
"You have a way of making everything sound so….crude."
"Sorry," I say, but I'm not. "I'll say making love instead."
Delaney giggles. "Oh my God, I think I'm going to vomit."
"Make loooooovvvve," I say, dragging out the words, my voice sickly sweet. "That's what that novel of yours would say, wouldn't it? I'd make love to you with my throbbing manhood?"
"Stop," she says, rolling her eyes as she swats me on the arm.
"Hey, I'm not the one reading it," I say.
"At least I can read," she says. I make a meowing sound and a pawing gesture at her, and she sticks out her tongue at me. "What are you doing here, anyway? Don't you want to go back to your room?"
"And miss out on the chance to bug you?" I ask.
"Seriously," she says. "Isn't that your thing? Casual sex?"
"Yeah, so what?"
"Doesn't that involve not hanging around afterward?"
"Delaney Marlowe, are you treating me like a one night stand?" I ask, putting my hand on my chest. "I'm hurt." Okay, I'm being sarcastic, but I am kind of surprised. I mean, come on, usually I'm the one who's out the door as soon as I can get away with it afterward, but Delaney's acting like she's the one who wants me gone. I'm more a
nnoyed than hurt.
"That's what this is, isn't it?" she says. "I mean, upstairs….and, um, in the shower, that can't happen again, Gaige."
"So when you handle me in Japan, you're not going to handle me," I say. "Is that what you're saying?"
Delaney blushes. Score one for me. "Absolutely not," she says, her voice firm. "This cannot happen again, Gaige. We're going to be under scrutiny in Japan and I'm representing the company there. So are you. There would be so much blowback if that –"
"Yeah, yeah, got it," I say, cutting her off. Leave it to Delaney to be wound so tight when it comes to stupid company policies.
"This can't leave this room, Gaige," she says, her voice panicked. "Promise me."
I turn toward her, swallowing my irritation. "Trust me, sweetheart, I have no interest in anyone else finding out about this."
For a second, I think the expression that flits across her face is hurt or disappointment, but it's gone so quickly I can't be sure. "Exactly," she says quickly.
"So we'll agree. It will just be one night."
"Right."
"Then it won't hurt to do it again, will it?" I ask. "I mean, one night, right? It's best to get everything out of your system."
She rolls over onto her side, facing me, her head resting on her hand. "One night and that's it. After tonight, we stop."
I nod. "Absolutely."
Like hell we're going to stop. I only just started with this girl.
"And it stays between us."
"I'm not taking an ad out in the newspaper," I say, running my hand up her thigh.
Delaney wrinkles her nose. "Do people even do newspaper ads anymore?"
"I don't care," I say, sliding my hand up farther. "Are we going to talk about newspapers, or are we going to make love?"
Delaney slaps me on the arm. "Ugh. Stop using that phrase."
I reach up to her mouth, run my thumb along her bottom lip. "Ask me nicely."
She raises her eyebrows. "I don't ask for anything nicely."
"If I recall correctly, you were begging pretty well earlier," I say. "Now you're changing your tune?"
She smiles before wrapping her lips around the tip of my finger, and all I can picture is her lips wrapped around my cock. "Too much talking," she says. "One night, remember?"
"One night," I say, picking her up and carrying her to other side of the room, pausing only to reach for another condom. I press her back against the wall, looking down at her as I tilt her chin up toward me. Her mouth is swollen from my kisses, and that fact makes me want to kiss her even more.
"Exactly," she says. Her breasts rise as she sucks in a deep breath, and she takes her lip between her teeth, like she's anticipating my next move.
"Your book had a pretty filthy scene in there," I say, tracing her bottom lip with my thumb.
"Oh?" she asks, her voice innocent.
"I think you know the one I'm talking about," I say, taking her hands and pinning them above her head.
"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," she says, her voice the epitome of innocence. She bats her eyes repeatedly for effect.
"I like it when you try to lie," I say, unable to focus on anything except those pouty lips, parted just slightly as she inhales sharply. I kiss her hard on the mouth – a forceful, bruising kiss – and she arches up to meet my mouth, her tongue tangling with mine.
When I pull away, she looks at me, her eyes wide. "So you're taking ideas from my romance novel now?"
"I've got more than enough ideas about what to do with you, sweetheart," I say. "Too bad we only have one night."
"Too bad," she whispers, as I press her hands against the wall with one hand, using the other to palm her breast. When I lower my mouth to her breast, she moans, the sound desperate.
I can't listen to her moan like that and not want her. Letting go of her hands, I rip the foil package open with my teeth, unrolling a condom onto my length.
"What are you going to do with me tonight?" she asks, her tongue moving along her lower lip in what has to be the most seductive gesture ever.
"I'm going to make you moan," I say, sliding my hand under one of her legs and lifting her up against the wall as I slide my cock inside her. She keeps one leg on the floor and the other wrapped around my waist. "Fuck, I don't think I'll ever get sick of feeling your pussy."
"It's yours tonight," she whispers, and I thrust harder into her for reminding me of that.
"It's mine," I growl, pinning her hands above her head and fucking her harder. The thought of one night only with her makes me want to scream. "Even if you don't fucking know it yet."
"Fuck…Gaige," she breathes as she arches her hips to meet me, grinding her clit against me when I'm deep inside her.
She's so tight and wet and warm that I want more than anything to rip this condom off and fuck her with my bare cock. I want to come inside her, with no protection, no barrier between us.
The thought makes me insane with lust.
"Is this what you like, Delaney?" I ask, my voice ragged. "You like being pinned against the wall, restrained, while I take what's mine?"
"Holy shit," she groans. "Yes, yes, yes."
"You want me bare inside you," I whisper, thrusting so deep I swear I'm going to go right through her. "Tell me you've thought about it."
"Oh God," she moans. She gaps short breaths. "Yes."
"You've thought about me coming inside you," I say, each word punctuated with another thrust into her tight pussy.
"Fuck. Yes." She looks my eyes, face to face with me, and says yes, she's thought about me coming inside her.
And then she comes, her muscles pulling me into her, demanding me. I can't hold back. I let go, and it's like an explosion, raw and powerful, like nothing I've had with anyone else.
That's because Delaney isn't like anyone else.
In the morning, Delaney murmurs in her sleep, incoherent nonsense words but I listen anyway. She's lying with her head on my chest, her hair splayed out all over, finally asleep after one more round of sex followed by an outrageous amount of talking about random meaningless things. It's like the sex loosened her tongue, made her punch drunk or something. It made us both that way, I guess.
Delaney was giggling, laughing at stupid shit I said while we laid in bed, kind of like she used to when we would hang out at night. Except this time, we were naked. And I wasn't trying to get in her pants anymore, because I already had.
I'd always figured that if I ever tapped Delaney Marlowe, that would be the end of it, just like the way it worked with every other chick I'd ever met. The chase is everything – it's the aftermath that I can't fucking stand.
But with Delaney, I don't want to leave. So I close my eyes and breathe in the scent of her, filing it away in my memory bank. Just in case she's serious about this being a one night stand.
She finally stirs, rolling over onto her stomach to look at me, her expression satiated, at least until she registers it's me. Then it changes to a look of panic. "You're still here," she whispers.
"Good morning to you too, sweetheart."
"What time is it?"
I glance over at the alarm clock on the table. "Eight."
"Eight?" she asks, sitting bolt upright. "Shit. I have to jump in the shower. Chelsea will have my ass if I walk into work late. Didn't my alarm go off?"
"Yeah, but you looked so comfortable, I didn't want to wake you."
"Damn it, Gaige." She slides out of bed and runs in the bathroom to turn on the shower before she comes back out. "How the hell are you going to sneak out of here?"
"I thought I'd lounge around in your bed naked until the housekeeper came in to clean, and then I'd tell her the whole story of what happened between us last night."
Delaney's eyes go wide. "I swear to God, Gaige, if you don't get out of here…"
"Relax, sweetheart," I say, not bothering to hide the edge to my voice. This isn't how I fucking pictured this morning going at all. "I think you need to postpon
e that shower. A little morning sex would significantly improve your mood." I toss back the covers and gesture toward my cock.
"One night, Gaige," she says. "That's it, remember?"
"Did we say one night or one day?" I ask. "Because if it was one day, then technically we still have until tonight. Twenty-four hours."
Delaney sighs. Why do I love the sound she makes when she's exasperated with me? I shouldn't love it as much as I do, but getting under her skin is thrilling. It's like foreplay. "One night, Gaige. One night and that's it. How are you going to sneak out of here?"
I slide out of bed, crossing the room to where she stands, naked. Usually women, at least the kind of women I hook up with, look worse for wear in the morning. But not Delaney. She looks better than she did last night, standing here with her hair tousled, a smudge of mascara under her eyes, a fresh flush on her cheeks.
Don't even get me started on that fucking body of hers.
I run my palm over her waist and the side of her curvy hips, before moving it between her legs. "Instead of me sneaking out of here, why don't you let me lick you again?"
Delaney inhales so sharply that it's audible in the room, even over the white noise of the shower. "I have to shower."
"It can wait."
She pries her hand away from where it rests between her legs. "Our parents will be awake."
"Your father will be at work already, and Anja's probably sleeping it off somewhere," I say.
"I'll be late."
I shrug. "Chelsea can wait," I say. I can't stop looking at her lips. They're still pink-tinged around the edges, swollen from my kisses, and I kiss her again, lightly, but she turns her head away, touching her fingers to her lips.
"I have morning breath," she says.
I tilt her head up to me. "I don't care."
"Gaige, don't," she whispers. "Please."
She turns and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. And shutting me out. Just like that.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Delaney
Damn it, damn it, damn it.
I let the shower water run over me, half-hoping that Gaige will yank open the shower door and step inside, pushing me up against the wall the way he did last night. I can still feel his hands on my skin, the smell of him lingering in the air. When I wash him off me, I'm a little sad.
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