Knowing I’m close, he increases the speed of his pumps, grinding them in and out of me in the pattern matching the rock of my hips. When his tongue slips over the puckered hole in my rear, fireworks explode in front of my eyes. I quiver beneath him, my back falling into the mattress with a moan. My eyes close as an orgasmic wave overwhelms me. It’s a beautifully terrifying two minutes.
He guides me back to earth with gentle licks and timed thrusts before climbing up my body, unclipping his wonky bow tie on the way. While he shrugs off his jacket, I set to work on the buttons concealing his magnificent torso from my avid eyes. It’s been over twelve hours since I’ve absorbed the artwork covering his pecs. It’s been way too long.
Once we have his jacket and shirt removed, and his pants huddled around his knees, Slater pulls down the front of my dress like Melanie did earlier. His brows pull together when he sees the Hollywood tape maintaining my modesty.
“Better to be safe than sorry,” I say with a shrug.
“Mmm-hmm.”
His moan hits every one of my hot buttons. It also has my eyes straying to the unopened box of condoms on the nightstand. We’ve gotten a little careless with protection the past few weeks. Slater says it’s because he’s had me bare, and he can’t go back, but I don’t hear it like that. He knows the odds of me getting pregnant are about the same as me inviting a woman into our bed—neither are likely to happen.
“If you’re worried, I can always fuck you here instead.” My face mashes with the mattress when he flips me over without warning. He grinds his thick cock head against my ass, eliciting a hearty moan that reverberated through my chest. “No worries then.”
I silently pull my knees together. I’m not shy when it comes to this man. I just don’t want him to know how much his crudeness turns me on. I shouldn’t bother. If the glistening between my legs doesn’t tell him how much I’m into him, the moan I release when he spanks my ass with his big, manly hand is a sure-fire indication.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Kylie
Slater’s head pops up from a document he’s reading when I enter the room. “Thank you for bringing Melanie here last week. I just realized while showering that I never thanked you. I was somewhat preoccupied, but that shouldn’t excuse my manners.”
The big groove between Slater’s blond brows smooths when he notices I’m wearing nothing but a towel. “It was my pleasure.”
I’m not sure if he’s talking about Melanie or our strenuous activities on the night in question. If his smirk is anything to go by, I’d say it’s a bit of both.
With my Saturday night filled by a ravenous Slater, Melanie and I spent Sunday hanging out in her room eating and talking for hours like we used to. I filled her in on everything that’s happened in my life the past several months. She seemed happy, but surprisingly quiet for Melanie. The only time her eyes sparked was when our conversation veered toward Marcus. She has it bad for him. He walked her to her hotel room after the gala, but she wouldn’t share any more details on what happened after he dropped her off, which is so unlike her. Not even a ball gag keeps her quiet when it comes to sexual endeavors.
“What are you looking at?”
After plopping my backside next to Slater’s, I peer down at my passport application and photos I took earlier this week. When Slater won the trip to Fiji, he said we couldn’t go for another six months, but the very next day, he said he was planning for us to go within the next month. I don’t know what caused the sudden change in dates, but I’m so excited about going to Fiji, I don’t care when we go.
“Cormack arranged for someone to pick up your paperwork. They’ll take it to the courthouse to get a rush order on your passport.”
My brows pull together as my confused eyes lift to his. “Why do I need a rush order?”
Normal passport applications are processed within weeks, so mine should be here in plenty of time.
He sucks in a big breath before he swivels his body to face me. “I thought maybe we could go to Fiji next week.”
I stare at him in shock. It isn’t a good shock. I don’t know what’s going on with him, but I have noticed a drastic change in his personality the past few days. He’s treating me differently, similar to how I was treated when people found out I was sick. He’s been walking on eggshells, and he’s even been more cautious in the bedroom.
“I’ve arranged for us to go to the doctor’s today so we can get the vaccinations we need for our trip.” As his eyes dart down to the documents in his hand, he mutters, “They’ll also do a full check-up on you while we’re there.”
My heart plummets into my stomach. “No.” I stand from the sofa and pace away from him, needing distance before I say something I’ll regret.
“Please Kylie, I need you to do this—”
“Do what exactly?” I rapidly blink, praying a rush of air will keep my tears at bay. I knew he was treating me differently, and this is the icing on the cake.
With his hands held out in front of himself, urging me to calm down, he steps closer to me. “The earlier we find out, the better your chances will be.”
“I’m not sick!”
When I attempt to skirt past him, he grabs ahold of my wrist, halting my angry retreat. I keep my eyes fixed on the ugly Persian rug in the living room. If I look at him and see the devastation his words are holding, I’ll break. If I break, I’ll cry.
“Baby, look at me.”
I shake my head.
