Fastest finish in the history of this hotel.
Her scent. The steam. My sinful vision of her pleasuring me had me coming so hard I swore I heard something snap. I melted against the tile wall, breath shattered, skin on fire.
A heartbeat later, my dick perked up again at the thought of Ivy’s curves in my hands.
Fuckinghell.
My tongue throbbed, aching for one lick, one taste, one second of her skin against mine. I lectured my cock to simmer down, yanked on my t-shirt and boxers(as if cotton could save me), and face-planted into our bed. Ivy was asleep, blissfully unaware of her world-class penis torture.
Distance. That’s all I needed. A little space. My brain knew she was the enemy, but my dick only saw her as a tempting fantasy.
Eleven minutes.
That’s how long her pillow wall lasted.
First, her knee jabbed my back.
Then her thigh slid across my hip.
AndBAM!She was pressed against me(body pillow position filled, benefits not included).
Not on purpose. I know that. Her body just relocated and found me. Like I was a destination. Unconscious or not, she showednorespect for the pillow wall.
I scooted her back.
Out came this little purr, sleepy as hell, content as a cat in the sun. I lay there, stuck and miserable, theorizing how good her ass would feel in my palms. Scientifically speaking, the consensus was: good.Reallyfucking good.
So good, I had to start counting sea lions.
One.
Two.
Three.
She cuddled right back at four.
I moved her again.
Four more sea lions. Back she came.
All night, she boomeranged. Knee. Arm. Warm breath on my neck.
Then her foot found me.
And byfound, I don’t mean “hey, neighbor.”
I mean her foot, dead asleep, somehow GPS’d the one spot it shouldn’t. It parked itself right there, as if it had a one a.m. reservation.
Over and over her foot ran straight across my rock-hard erection like she was a fucking barcode scanner at Trader Joe’s.BEEP.
I’d move her foot. Five minutes later?
BEEP. BEEP.
Same route.
Same checkout lane.
