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I do as he says, sitting gingerly on his dress shirt and opening my thighs. I haven’t had sex with anyone since Dylan and I haven’t exactly trimmed myself much, but if hair bothers Eagle, he doesn’t show it. He sucks in a breath and his bright blue eyes darken as he flares his nostrils and breathes me in.
“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re so wet.”
“I’ve been like this all night,” I admit.
“You this wet for me?” he asks, taking the tip of one finger and teasing a trail up my thigh and through my dark curls.
My hips buck at the light contact, and I lift my ass trying to get closer to him.
“Nuh-uh,” he says, withdrawing his fingers. “Answer the question and I’ll take good care of you, baby. You wet for me or for that douchebag?”
I snap my eyes open in shock and meet his gaze. “You,” I breathe. “I only want you.”
“Good answer,” he says, returning his fingers to my pussy. Every light touch of his fingers is a brutal tease. I want him inside me, filling me, but he takes his time, studying my body and fingering his way through my arousal until he finds my clit. I throw my head back against the sofa and spread my legs wider, parting my thighs with my hands.
“Eagle,” I say, his name shuddering through my breaths. “For God’s sake.”
He slides two fingers inside me, then pulls his fingers out and licks them. He curses under his breath, a stream of hot, panting words I can’t make out through the haze of lust and heat. “Sweet as fucking honey,” he grunts.
He lowers his face to between my legs, kneading the muscles of my thighs with his hands and licking long, slow strokes across my clit. I’m panting, gasping, moaning, gripping the crisp dress shirt between my fingers, lost to the bliss of his mouth on me.
I want to come, but I won’t. I need him to fill me, need him deep and hard and fast if he’s going to hit that spot to send me to the stars. I tell him I want him inside me, that I need to feel him, and he curses again.
But this time, it’s not from arousal.
“Old knees,” he laughs, bracing himself on the couch and groaning as he stands up.
I want to help, offer him a hand or anything, but I’m useless. My legs are like syrup, slow and thick and hot as he helps me to standing.
“Tits,” he says, that single word sending another tidal storm of heat through me.
With my dress already around my hips, all I have to do is shove the front of the dress down and my breasts will fall free. I wear this dress so often, I had a strapless bra sewn into the top, so when I push the material down, my breasts rest on top looking massive and full.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, his eyes widening. He grabs my hand and helps me stand, then bends to suck a nipple into his mouth. Sparks shoot off behind my eyelids and I gasp, gripping his massive shoulders and clawing against his smooth back, bringing him closer.
“Turn,” he says, pointing at the vanity counter. The entire lounge area is lined with mirrors, so now that I’m standing and my eyes are open, I can see us. Really see us. My dress is up around my hips, the bodice pushed low. My nipples are so erect they hurt, and a massive flush has stained my cleavage a dusky rose color. “I want to watch your face when I make you come,” he says, nodding toward the counter.
When I breathe, I leave a hot little circle of mist on the glass. I can hear Eagle unzip, and then the foil wrapper tearing. Then I feel his hands on either side of my thighs. Looking in the mirror, I meet his eyes as he enters me with one long, deep, powerful thrust.
His mouth opens and he shudders, the pleasure a full-body experience that I share with him. I watch his naked chest, inked from shoulder to shoulder and down each arm, as he thrusts inside me. He starts slow, our eyes locked together in the mirror, his hands braced tight against the outside of my thighs.
Then, he moves his hands to cup my breasts, and he pinches my tender nipples between his fingers.
“Oh my God,” I cry, pressing my ass toward him, shimmying my hips to bring him deeper, to pound my body against his until his cock strikes just the right spot. Again and again he thrusts and I slam myself back, the tip of his erection teasing my inner walls until I feel myself tighten and I can’t watch anymore. Can’t lookat the outlines of my bare skin in the mirror, his hair sweaty and flopping over his forehead, his eyes fixed on my face. My eyes slam shut as I give in to the bliss, lowering my face and holding onto the vanity for dear life.
“Harder,” I beg.
I fuck him back, working my hips against him, my greedy clit swollen and hungry, so close to the edge, the almost-there pleasure the most exquisite torture.
“Eagle,” I pant, because I know I’m past the point of no return. My body takes over and I relax my legs, a climax so powerful taking over me I almost miss the way I shake in his hands. I’ve never watched myself come before but as I see it happen, see the bliss on my face, my long-wearing lipstick smudged across both my mouth and his, I realize I don’t want this to stop. I don’t want this night to end. This pleasure. My time with this man.
Imoan and cry out, the elation on my face looking like agony but feeling like heaven. When he sees I’m coming, when he feels the clench of my walls over his cock and the flood of my juices drenching us both, he releases into the condom. I can feel the pulse of his orgasm, the swelling of the tip of his cock bringing a second wave of pleasure so deep, I can’t keep my eyes open. I rest my forehead against the mirror, and let Eagle fuck me until we’re both done, sweaty, and still.
CHAPTER SIX
EAGLE
If this is the last night I’m employed by Villa Lantana, at least I’m going out in style. For all my resisting and bitching, I feel like the million-dollar man in an overpriced tux. I never bought into the bullshit about brands, but hell if this thing doesn’t feel fantastic. I never pictured myself as the kind of guy to clean up nice, but I can’t help hoping Lacey likes what she saw.
