by Kally Ash
Tears were sitting in her eyes, the vulnerability shining through. He knew it wouldn’t last though. Women like her were buttoned up tight and it was only when the seams split wide that they let their emotions leak out. She would be working on patching things up though; the question was, how long would it take?
She stood up abruptly, listing to the side before catching herself on the chair. “I need the restroom,” she announced.
“It’s back there,” he said, pointing behind her. He watched her take another step, but she was weaving like she was participating in a boxing match only she could see. Standing up, he took her elbow, holding her steady. She practically collapsed into him and he realized she wasn’t in any state to get herself to the bathroom. Turning her around, he took her back to the table to grab her handbag, then turned her toward the bank of elevators just off the lobby.
Holding her more firmly around the waist, he enjoyed the feel of her molding into his side. It was like she’d just, well, yeah, she had—she passed out on him. When the elevator doors glided open, he stepped inside and pressed the button for his floor. Natasha was getting looser in his hold, looking more like a puddle than the put-together woman who kicked ass and got things done.
With a ding! the elevator spat them out on his floor and he got them to his room, laying Natasha out on the bed gently. Standing back, he looked at her with her hands anchored to her hips. Her hair was fanned out around her, haloing his pillow and he knew even now that he would be burying his face in there long after she was gone.
Being careful not to wake her, he removed her shoes, his fingers lingering on her ankles. Damn, her skin was soft there. She had slender calves, but they were firm like she worked out. Dropping her shoes to the floor, he went into the bathroom to have a cold fucking shower.
Having Natasha in his bed was way too much of a temptation, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. She was out cold and doing anything to her now would make him a creeper.
Nope, he definitely wasn’t a creeper...
That’s why he was considering jerking off in the shower.
It was a guarantee not to get slapped with a sexual harassment suit.
Starting up the water, he waited for things to get steamy before stripping off and getting under the spray. His dick was ready to go, standing out like it wanted a personal reintroduction to Natasha. He glared down at the front of his hips but got busy with the shampoo and rinse. When he washed his body, he ignored his dick and sac, knowing that as soon as he touched them, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. But then his hand moved closer, rubbing slow circles with the washcloth. His chest. His stomach. His hips. Biting his lip, he dipped down farther, running underneath his balls, his cock jerking, straining, begging to be touched.
Dropping the cloth, he palmed his cock, running his hand up and down his shaft. His head kicked back, his mouth parting to get more oxygen into his lungs. So good. It felt so fucking good, but it could never feel as good as Natasha touching him, stroking him, bringing him higher and higher. He wanted her to shove him over the edge and he wanted to drag her with him.
He only lasted a few strokes before his balls seized, heat shooting through them and into his shaft. His hips followed his hand, working like a pneumatic drill as he thought about Natasha and her warm, wet heat.
He came with a shout and he bit his tongue to stop the sound from escaping anymore. Natasha may have been unconscious on the other side of the wall, but he wasn’t taking any chances. His erection kicked in his hand, his come covering his belly and the shower wall. It seemed to go on forever, but he wasn’t complaining. Once it was all over, once he was wrung out, he shut the water off, dried himself, then pulled on the pair of sweats he’d left in the bathroom.
The cool air of the HVAC system brushed against his chest and bare feet and he welcomed it. He stopped at the foot of the bed and stared at Natasha. She was still in the same position as before, her face relaxed. He looked around. Since there was only one bed and the couch was only big enough to fit half his body, he eyed the floor. Nope, not doing that. The king-sized bed was plenty big enough for the both of them.
Stretching out on top of the space, he folded his hands on his stomach and crossed his legs at the ankle. Slowly, his eyes shut, his ears picking up the sound of the recycled air and then Natasha’s soft breathing. If he listened hard enough, he could even hear the sound of people chatting in the hallway as they walked to their rooms, as well as the occasional car horn out on the street.
“It sounded like a good one.”
He almost bolted upright at the sound of Natasha’s throaty voice, but he told himself to calm the fuck down.
“What do you mean?”
She rolled over, her previously glassy eyes suddenly clear. “You jerked off in the shower. I heard you.”
His initial thought was to deny, deny, deny, but she was an intelligent woman. She would know.
“Yes,” he replied. “I did.”
“Did you think about me?” she asked.
“Yes.” He was hardly breathing, caught between wanting to mount her and leave her the hell alone. She was drunk. She didn’t need him panting all over her. He was stunned when she rolled on top of him, straddling his waist. Her tight black dress was stretched over her thighs, riding higher as she wiggled herself into a more comfortable position.
“What are you doing?”
“You fucked me when you were drunk. Now it’s my turn to fuck you.” She leaned down and kissed him, her hands tangling in his hair.
As much as his dick was on board with that, he knew this was wrong.
Taking her by the wrists, he gently eased her back. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I want to do this,” she replied. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, John.”
“You called me an asshole.”
“You are an asshole,” she replied, leaning down once more. He was forced to let her go, and she kissed him. She slid her tongue into his mouth, stroking, demanding, tasting. He groaned, his hands wrapping around her back and holding on tight. He was glad she’d been thinking about him because he’d been thinking about her too, wondering when he’d be able to sink inside her again.
He skimmed his hands down her slender torso, hiking up the bottom of the dress until he felt the silk of her underwear. She panted his name as he massaged her, and he cursed their position. He wanted to touch more of her, and besides getting some really great friction on his cock, he needed more. He wanted more. In a surge, he flipped her off him and covered her with his body, taking his time to kiss her. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, her thighs falling open so he could settle in between them. Yes, this was where he liked to be, and it only got topped by one other position.
Shifting his weight to one side, he was free to run his free hand down over the swell of her breasts, her flat stomach, which hollowed out with each deep draw of breath, down to her thighs. He rubbed her over the panties, making her groan. She was already wet, but the more he rubbed, the headier her scent became and the wetter she grew.
“I want to be in here,” he growled.
Her whole body rolled in a giant wave, inviting him to do just that. Sitting back on his heels, he took the edges of her panties and drew them down her long legs. As soon as the fabric was free, her thighs fell open, revealing to him her wet, aching pussy. He lunged for her, stroking his tongue right up the seam of her sex. She cried out, her hands balling the sheets into fists on either side of her hips.
Lapping, sucking, nibbling, he took his time bringing her to the brink of orgasm but not letting her tumble over. His cock was aching between his legs, but the greedy bastard could wait. When she stopped panting, John started up the process again, driving her to where she wanted to go but reining her back in.
“You’re killing me,” she groaned.
“I’m in heaven,” he shot back. “I love the way you taste.”
His words got another moan and he smiled. He l
et her come the next time, relishing the way she ground against his face, trying to get more friction and to draw her orgasm out. She didn’t have to worry too much though; that was just the first of many he was going to give her.
Stalking up the length of her body, he kissed her hard, letting her taste herself on his mouth. She moaned and arched, her breasts pressing into his bare chest, begging for a little attention. Well, who was he to deny her? Pushing her dress down, he exposed the cups of her bra, then dragged the lace down so her nipples popped free. Like with her pussy, he took his time with her, sliding one hand down to her sex to penetrate her with his fingers.
She came apart immediately, her body clenching, her whole body shaky with the release. He wished he’d been able to worship her body like this at the engagement party, but there was neither time nor space to do that.
Before her body could stop spasming from her release, he kicked off his sweats, sheathed himself with a condom, and entered her in one swift thrust. She arched again, pushing those glorious breasts of hers into his face. He sucked one nipple into his mouth, then the other, lavishing attention on them. Once he was sure he wasn’t going to come right away, he began to move. It was slow at first, but when she clawed at his back, he picked up the pace.
His hips slammed into her, driving her farther up the mattress. He was thankful for all the extra pillows that were thrown onto the bed. John wasn’t quite sure where the stamina was coming from. Usually he was a one-and-done kind of guy, but to jerk off and then pull up for what had to be the hottest sex of his life was something else. His cock must’ve really liked Natasha.
His orgasm boiled up quickly, tightening his balls and making the tip of his cock tingle. Two thrusts later, he was coming, filling the condom, but he had a bizarre desire to fill her up instead. The primal need shocked him, but his brain fuzzed out with pleasure, so he couldn’t study the instinct too carefully.
He collapsed on top of her but rolled to the side quickly. They were both panting, their chests rising and falling as if they’d run a marathon, jumped out of an airplane, and gotten off a rollercoaster ride that had been stuck at top speed.
“That was fucking amazing,” she said in a purr, rolling toward him. Her green eyes were clear and he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. He enjoyed this relaxed version of Natasha. He’d seen the spitting-angry version, talked to the snarky, defensive version, but this version right here was what he was talking about. She was warm and supple, soft and pliable. She was a satisfied woman and he’d been the one to make her feel that way.
“You should get some sleep,” he murmured.
“Sleep sounds perfect,” was all she said in reply, her lids already closing. She snuggled into him, and unwilling to disturb her, he waited until her soft snoring told him she was well into REM land. Extricating himself, he went to the bathroom, rolling the used condom off, and dumped it into the trash. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, then returned to his bedroom. He stood there and looked at Natasha for a moment before climbing in beside her and pulling the quilt up over both of them.
Sixteen
Natasha came back to consciousness slowly, like her brain wanted her body to ease into the pounding it was no doubt waiting to deliver. Opening her eyes, she took stock of the room around her and who she was sharing it with.
Beside her, John was sleeping soundly, his eyelids working like he was dreaming. His usually well-styled and perfectly positioned hair was a mess and she reached out and touched it, confirming it was as soft as she expected it to be. He muttered something in his sleep and turned his head toward her.
She retracted her hand and gave herself another minute to enjoy this. She remembered coming up here after she’d gone from an in-control martini drinker to a sloppy drunk. It hadn’t taken her long to sober up though, her liver well accustomed to her pounding the ever-loving crap out of her. With her high-stress profession, she’d whipped it into shape when she was in college.
Pushing the light quilt from her body, she found that she was still in her dress just sans panties. Not a surprise given how voracious John was last night. Slipping off the mattress, she padded into the bathroom to freshen up. Finger-combing her hair, she made it look less fucked-hard and more I-just-had-a-bad-night.
She used the facilities, washed her hands, and then walked back into the bedroom. Scanning the floor, she found her handbag next to an armchair. She scooped it up and pulled out her phone, unsurprised to see any missed calls. It was seven in the morning though and she needed to get going.
“Shoes, shoes,” she whispered, doing a visual sweep of that plush Hilton carpet and finding one shoe half under the skirt of the bed. Pulling it out, she put it on, then looked for its twin.
“Got you!” she cried in triumph, finding the other shoe behind the armchair. Slipping it onto her bare foot, she took one more look at John and tiptoed from the room. She wasn’t sure how she was going to approach the morning after. Clearly, they were better at the fucking-and-leaving thing since this was the second time. She really hadn’t meant to give in to him again, but she was vulnerable, she was angry, and she’d opened herself up to him. She hadn’t even uttered a word to her best friend about it.
She turned to leave the bedroom but froze at the sound of rustling sheets.
“Don’t tell me you’re leaving without buying me breakfast,” John said in a sleep sexy voice.
“I’m sure it’s included in your stay,” she replied. He smiled at her and she felt her mouth flex into a smile too. Okay, so this was going okay.
“Have breakfast with me.”
“Are you telling me or asking me?”
“Asking, Natasha.” He frowned. “But you’re a big girl. If this is too weird for you, you can blow me off and I’ll eat alone.”
“This isn’t weird,” she shot back. His brows rose, challenging her. “Okay, it’s a little weird.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
Not trusting herself to speak, she shook her head. “I can’t do this, John.”
“Okay. Just do one thing for me?”
She narrowed her eyes. “What?”
“Eat something. If anything, it’ll help absorb the rest of that alcohol you forced down your throat last night.” When she hesitated, he added, “You don’t even have to chew. You can throw it down your throat and then leave.”
She nodded.
“I can do that.”
He sat up, the sheets falling from his bare chest. Her eyes drifted down his shoulders to take in his muscular torso. He chuckled. She’d had her hands around those biceps, that chest, those shoulders. She hadn’t realized architects could be that ripped, but there you go. John proved they could be.
“Do you want to stay in the room or go downstairs?” His voice was husky and all she could think about was sex. Dirty sex. Sex in the shower. In the bed. On the couch. In public. Fuck, she’d probably have him any way she could.
“In the room,” she replied. “I can’t go down there without panties on. I wouldn’t want to give any of the businessmen a heart attack so early.”
He groaned and bunched the sheets at his hips. Oh yeah, he had to be rocking a massive erection. Folding her arms, she decided to wait him out. He was going to have to get out of that bed sometime soon.
“Do you want to wait for me in the living area?”
Natasha shook her head. “No, I don’t.”
Shrugging, he said, “Fine.” Pushing the sheets away, she got an eyeful of him and bit her tongue. She couldn’t go there again. There was just no way, but she wasn’t going to back down from this either. He sauntered past her naked, closing the bathroom door behind him. With nothing else to do, she walked into the sitting room and found the in-room dining menu and started flipping through it.
“Decided on something?” John asked, standing in the doorway. He’d put on a pair of sweats, but he was still naked from the waist up.
“Did you not pack any shirts for this trip?” she asked sweetly.
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“I thought you’d enjoy the uninhibited view.”
Oh, yeah, she did. Making a humph noise at the back of her throat, she got busy looking at the menu again, although she’d already decided.
“French toast, I think, and I need caffeine.” She handed him the menu.
“Sounds divine,” he replied, staring at her rather than the menu. Her whole body flushed with heat and she got busy looking around the suite. It was nice and it would be costing his company an absolute bomb to put him up for a month. Standing, she stretched her arms over her head, knowing she was putting on a display for John. Didn’t he know two could play at that game?
Walking to the window, she drew back the drapes and looked down on Melrose Avenue. Despite it being early, there was already a lot of traffic cruising past the hotel. Soon, she’d have to join them, but for now she was going to enjoy breakfast with a guy who simultaneously pissed her off and turned her on. Surely there had to be some law against that.
Behind her, she could hear John placing their breakfast order over the phone.
Turning, she said, “Do you mind if I shower?”
“Not at all. I’ll even get you something to wear.” Before she could tell him not to bother, he disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a pair of sweats like the ones he was wearing and a Syracuse t-shirt.
“Orange is not my color,” she told him, looking at the college shirt like it was a bomb—a really bad fashion bomb.
“I happen to think you wear orange beautifully.” He was looking at her hair, of course. With a snarl, she snatched the clothes from him and marched into the bathroom. When the door was shut firmly and locked, she let out a deep breath. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was rattled. She hadn’t been this intimate with a man in a long time. Sure, she had sex with them, but they never stayed over, she never stayed over. It was understood that once they both got off, they were in the clear. No strings. No expectations. Waking up in John’s bed though...
