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The churning in my stomach was as intense as the throbbing between my legs that couldn’t be ignored a moment longer. I touched the throb and the world around me blurred as I ran my index finger over my tender tip.
His eyes widened, and I slipped over the point of no return.
I lifted my dress over my head, careful not to peel my wig off with it, and tossed the costume onto my growing clothing pile. I removed my bra with the twist of my fingers on the clasp behind my back and tossed the flimsy lace onto the pile.
For the first time in years, I stood naked before a man.
George looked at me. Really looked at me.
Finally, I’m not invisible.
George flicked off the bed sheet, wrapped his hand around his cock, and pumped with a ferocity I’d never seen before.
His eyes, however, were on me.
My first serious boyfriend, Ryan, had jerked off in front of me all the time, but he always watched himself as he did it, and his movements were methodical and calm. Slowly up, pause at the tip, then slowly down again. It was like Ryan had been in sensory overload, and every inch of his rod was intertwined with both pleasure and pain.
George, on the other hand, was an animal strangling his beast. He was out of control, and it was so damn hot to know I’d caused that intensity.
I edged my bottom onto the windowsill, spread my legs apart, and joined him in the primal act, driving my finger over my clit and into my slippery folds over and over.
Faster, harder.
My eyes rolled. It was just me and my fingers and a man watching me please my own body. I imagined it was his fingers exploring my depths for the first time, digging for sweet spots that were begging to be found.
Delightful visions swirled through my mind, and my insides clenched around my probing fingers. Huh. I didn’t realize I could do that.
I alternated my exploration from the outside of my pussy to deep inside and back out again.
The buildup was swift and intense. No slow arousal for me—it’s been way too long since I was last ravaged.
I was set to explode. Implode. Crumble into a thousand delicious, shuddering pieces.
When my orgasm hit, it shocked the hell out of me. Hot juices sprinkled over my hand and onto my thighs.
One of us cried out. I think it was me because George’s eyes snapped open, his hand paused, then he clenched his jaw and powered his cock like a jackhammer. He gasped as his white seed shot up and landed in a thick stream on his rock-hard torso.
I squirmed on the windowsill, digging my toes into the carpet and riding a throbbing wave of ultimate satisfaction. Shudders of pleasure pulsed through me.
Wow! I just had my first true orgasm.
I’d thought I’d had a few in my life, but none of the men I’d slept with—not Will, Ryan, or Alexander—had ever made my body sing like that.
I reached for my dress to cover my wet legs, wishing I’d thought to bring a hand towel. I’ll remember next time.
My mind reeled. Next time?
A dozen impossible questions swooped through my brain.
George slid the sheet back over himself, and I suddenly felt terrible for Nora and Pete, who would be cleaning this room in about five hours. They would have seen mess like this before, though. I was probably the only guest in the Hot Horizon Hotel who’d never had sex here.
George sat up on his elbows again and looked over his spent groin at me. I couldn’t read his expression. Was it disgust? Intrigue? Or downright undeniable relief?
He raised an eyebrow, posing a silent question.
Clearing my throat, I gathered my clothes from the floor and shoved them into my bag. “Thank you for your help.”
His sheets rustled as he moved forward on the bed.
