“You’re not so bad yourself.”
She’s smiling when I kiss her again. I pull out slowly, carefully, watching her face. She winces slightly and cum immediately starts leaking out of her and I can’t help but watch it, something primal and possessive surging through me at the sight.
“Like what you see?” she asks, and there’s mischief in her voice now, playfulness returning.
I look up at her face. She’s biting her lip, eyes sparkling with trouble. “Very much.”
She reaches down between her legs, her fingers sliding through the mess we made, gathering my cum on her fingertips. Then she brings her hand up slowly, deliberately, holding my gaze the entire time. Her fingers glisten in the dim light and she brings them to her mouth, licking them clean while maintaining eye contact.
“You’re unreal,” I breathe, my cock twitching hard at the sight.
But she’s not done. She hops off the desk, a little wobbly, and drops to her knees in front of me. Before I can process what’s happening, her tongue drags up the length of my cock, licking away the evidence, tasting everything.
“Fuck, Lark,” I groan, my hand flying to her hair. I’m already getting hard again, which should be impossible. My body shouldn’t be capable of this. But apparently where she’s concerned, normal rules don’t apply.
She looks up at me through her lashes, her mouth wrapped around the head of my cock for just a moment, before she pulls back with a satisfied smile. “What? Just cleaning up.”
I groan. “You’re going to kill me.”
“Maybe,” she says, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of my cock. “But what a way to go.”
She takes me into her mouth again, deeper this time, all the way to the back of her throat, and I feel her swallow around me. My hand tightens in her hair and she moans, the vibration going straight through me.
“Fuck,” I groan. “Lark, if you keep doing that?—”
She pulls back, looking up at me with dark eyes. “What? This?” And she does it again, taking me deep.
I pull her up and she gasps. “Hotel. Right now. Because I’m going to fuck you properly in a bed where I can take my time with you.”
She grins, looking absolutely pleased with herself, satisfied like a cat. “Yes, sir.”
I wake up to sunlight streaming through the open balcony door and Lark sprawled half on top of me, one leg thrown over mine, her hair everywhere. The sheets are tangled around us, half on the bed, half on the floor. There’s a pillow by the door to the balcony. Another one near the bathroom. Evidence of last night is scattered throughout the room like a map of everywhere we touched.
We’d barely made it out of the hotel elevator before starting again, the night turning into one long blur of her skin against mine, her sounds in my ear, the way she said my name over and over.
The bed first, where I’d buried myself between her thighs and made her come on my tongue twice before she begged me to fuck her.
Then the shower around midnight where she dropped to her knees on the tile and took my cock in her mouth, looking up at me with those dark eyes. And then the balcony at three in the morning, bending her over the railing, one hand clamped over her mouth while I fucked her from behind, both of us knowing damn well everyone could probably hear her muffled screams against my palm.
Fuck. My body responds to the memory immediately, my dick stirring even though I have no idea how that’s possible. I’m completely spent. Every muscle in my body is sore, wrung out, exhausted. But apparently my cock didn’t get that memo.
I look down at her sleeping on my chest, her face relaxed and peaceful. She’s so fucking beautiful it makes my chest ache. Dark lashes against her cheeks and wild hair spread across my skin.
She’s mine now. Actually mine. Not fake, not for show, not for the cameras. Mine. The thought makes something warm and satisfied settle in my chest. I get to wake up like this. I get to have her in my bed, in my life, in everything. And fuck if that doesn’t feel incredible.
She makes this soft sound and stirs against me, her body shifting. Then her eyes flutter open slowly, adjusting to the light. When she sees me already awake and watching her, a sleepy grin spreads across her face. She’s devastatingly beautiful.
I can’t help myself. I stroke her cheek with my thumb, feeling the softness of her skin, then let my fingers slide into her hair. The strands are still tangled from my hands being in them all night.
“Morning,” she mumbles, her voice husky and slightly rough in the most delicious way. From taking me so deep in theshower. From the way she begged me not to stop when I was between her legs. From screaming my name on the balcony.
“Morning.” I smile, unable to resist stroking her face again, tracing the line of her jaw like I’m trying to memorize it, like I’m trying to burn this moment into my memory. My thumb brushes across her bottom lip, and I remember biting it last night.
Her grin widens, eyes sparking with heat and mischief even in her sleepy state. “Happy memories?”
I laugh, the sound rumbling through my chest, and brush my thumb across her lip again. “Very happy memories.”
She flushes pink, biting that lip. “I can’t believe we did all of that.”
