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“Holy shit, this is exactly how I expect to be treated after pleasuring a man beyond his greatest fantasy,” I stated, taking in the five-star feast in front of us.
“I figured you’d need the calories after last night,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets and looking like a fucking snack on the beach.
“I won’t argue with you on that,” I said, snagging a piece of bacon and nibbling on it.
“Speaking of which,” he said, looking at me with those fuck-me eyes of his, “I don’t know about you, but I’ve never spent all night fucking like we did. You, Natalia Hoover, are quite the woman to have in bed.”
I’d had plenty of nights like last night, but when I thought about it, I’d never had anyone make me feel like Spencer had in more ways than one. Something about the feelings I was uncovering here, with him, was making me intensely uncomfortable suddenly.
Since college, I’d managed to keep sex and feelings neatly in separate boxes. After my high school boyfriend—a cute football player who fumbled his way around my pussy clumsily and had absolutely no idea what he was doing—I decided that I would be in control of who I let into my bed. I didn’t need any of the damage brought on by feelings. It wasn’t to say that there hadn’t been anyone who didn’t want more with me or anyone who hadn’t made me wonder what it might be like to pursue something beyond a few trysts; however, I inevitably remembered just what kind of a mess could be caused by feelings, and that put an end to those fantasies.
I found myself thinking of Spencer in ways I hadn’t thought of anyone in years, seeing him in ways I thought I’d dismissed decades ago.
Now that I was presented with these feelings, I had no idea what to do with them or myself or Spencer other than simply dismissing them. I’d had a lot of great sex in my life, but I never had anyone quite like Spencer.
I was losing my appetite with these thoughts and needed to shake them. Getting away from Spencer for a moment would help clear that energy so I could reset my mind and get back to what I enjoyed—if we were to play a little longer before I left—which was fantastic sex. But there was no way in hell I was jumping straight to that while seeing this look in his eyes and feeling these emotions. Fuck that shit. This wasn’t me, and I needed to clear my mind.
“Where’s the shower?” I questioned, causing a much-warranted look of confusion on his face.
“The best one is in my room. I’ll take you to it.”
* * *
The water in Spencer’s shower poured out of several jets on the ceiling, coursing over my head and body. I luxuriated in the feeling of the heat as my muscles slowly unkinked, and I rinsed out my hair in the heat of the overhead jet. The floor of the shower was a beautiful, dark marble, and a small window at the back looked out where the tide came in over the rocks. The sounds of the shower seemed to combine with the waves, and all of it relaxed me in the most perfect way.
I nearly jumped through the clear glass of the shower when a set of large, tan hands settled over my belly. I looked over my shoulder to see that Spencer was in there with me, aligning his body perfectly with mine.
“Mmm,” I moaned as his damp hands slid over me, pulling me flush against his perfectly toned chest. “That feels good. Another round, eh?” I said, my mind reset and ready to go again.
Spencer picked up a washcloth, soaping it thoroughly before dropping to his knees and running the soapy cloth up between my legs and over the backs of my thighs before spreading me out.
“I want you to stand,” he said, looking up at me, “while I make you come.” He used that dominant voice I would only allow if it meant I was getting pleasure from it.
“Yeah, you will,” I said, meeting his dominance with my own.
“I’m going to bring your gorgeous self,” Spencer leaned forward and applied his tongue in that expert way that he knew would drive me insane, “to your knees.”
I was thankful that he was holding me up because if his hands hadn’t been there, I might’ve already gone to my knees. I put my hand out to grip the tiled ledge next to me, grasping the cool wall as his tongue began to move in tighter and tighter circles.
“Hang on,” he said before suddenly lifting my foot and hooking it around his neck, draping my lower leg over his back. “I need better access.”
I almost melted when he dipped his tongue inside me, tasting the very center of me as he stripped me down to my most basic, fundamental parts, and getting me to practically forget my own name, to forget everything but my desire for him.
“Holy shit,” I said, feeling my breaths coming sharper and sharper. “Spence—”
“Come for me, Nat,” he said, the vibration of his words stimulating me even more. “Come in my mouth. I want to taste you.”
“I—” My thighs began to shake as he slipped his finger inside me, pressing it against my G-spot. “Shit, yes.”
The gasp that emerged from me dissolved into the sounds of my orgasm as I shattered, feeling the tension unspool from the base of my spine and flood from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
I almost collapsed on top of his head. I’d barely been given a second to absorb my orgasm before I was backed toward the slate wall, my hands braced on the ledge, and my legs parted with a gentle nudge of his knee.
“Are you ready for me?” he asked, pressing his lips gently to the pulse point on my neck as he brought his hand up to wrap around my neck, pulling it gently up. “I need to be inside you.”
“Good,” I said, reaching back to thread my fingers through his silky dark hair. “Fuck me.”
He lined himself up with my entrance and pushed in so slowly that I thought I would go insane, waiting for him to insert himself fully into me. His legs shook as he fit into me so deeply and tightly that I felt myself beginning to clench around him as soon as he was inside.
