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Her legs were trembling, her hands sliding into my hair and tugging desperately.
“Did you enjoy last night?” I prompted, putting the ball back in her court. “Was it as good for you as it was for me?”
“God, yes. Last night was perfect,” she moaned, her head falling back thanks to my suction on her pussy.
Sweet like candy, I feasted on the taste of her until her inner muscles tried to take possession of my tongue.
Goddamn, I wanted that pussy to milk another part of me.
“How sore are you, sweetheart?”
She shook her head ‘no,’ but her eyes said ‘God, yes.’
“I need to feel what it’s like to be inside you again. I want to feel that pretty pussy squeeze the cum out of my cock.”
“Yes,” she moaned. “Please. Now.”
I picked her up and wrapped her legs around me tight, moving us down the hall and into my bedroom before tossing her wet body onto the mattress. My sheets would be soaked, but fuck if I cared. I grabbed a condom out of my bag, tearing the package with my teeth as she watched from the bed.
“So, I guess this means there really weren’t any painting tips?” she teased, biting her bottom lip.
“It’s all about the strokes, baby,” I said, flashing a devilish grin as I slid the condom on, stroking up and down my length to punctuate that statement.
I crawled onto the bed, moving between her legs. She gripped my ass as I held her thighs, my fingertips branding her skin, and spreading them wider until the tip of my cock nestled against the one place I needed to be.
“Now, Kline. God, I can’t wait any longer,” she begged. Her hips pushed up, urging me closer.
The second I pushed inside of her, we both cried out, losing ourselves in each other and chasing each other’s pleasure.
I spent the next two hours using my cock and mouth and hands to reassure Georgia that sex with her was the single best thing I’d ever experienced, and she gave every second of that time to confirming it.
Hands down, motherfucking nirvana.
“Windows up or down?” he asked, cranking the engine and putting the gearshift into drive.
Reality started to set in. We were headed back to the city, and I knew I’d miss being wrapped up in my perfect Kline bubble. No responsibilities, no plans, just us, lazily enjoying the entire weekend together.
“Down, please.” I wanted to smell the ocean one last time. The day was beautiful, sun shining brightly and only filtered by the occasional fluffy white cloud strolling past its glow.
He rolled down the windows then leaned over the console, grabbing two pairs of aviators from his glove box and handing one to me.
“Such a gentleman.” I smiled, slipping them on and tossing my hair into a messy bun.
“For you—” he rested his hand on my thigh, squeezing gently “—always, baby.”
As we drove onto the main road, the Hamptons house slowly diminished in the passenger mirror and an unexpected surge of melancholy consumed me. I was going to miss that beautiful, rustic house. If I could’ve made a Pinterest board of my perfect home, that place would be pretty damn close. Once finished, I bet it would exceed my wildest dreams.
I was still in awe that Kline had bought a home for his mom and dad. And it wasn’t a brand new house, which he could obviously afford. It was a home he was filling with love and care and thoughtfulness by fixing it up himself.
Everything I had assumed about him had been dead wrong.
He’d rented a Ford Edge, for goodness’ sake. Nothing against that vehicle—I’d have been more than happy to drive one around—but it wasn’t the type of car you’d see a man with his kind of money drive.
A Range Rover? Definitely.
But an economy, mid-size SUV that he’d rented? Hell no.
He was so damn humble and endearing and practical. Every new facet of his personality I discovered, I adored. Kline was one of the most intriguing people I’d ever met.
“I’ll drive. You handle the music. Sound good?” He handed me his phone, iTunes already pulled up.
I nodded, scrolling through his playlists and choosing Young the Giant’s “12 Fingers.” It was the perfect song for this kind of day. I hung my hand out the window and savored the unseasonably warm wind that caressed my skin. After slipping off my flats, I moved my feet up to the seat, knees finding their way under my chin. Catching sight of each mile marker we passed, I felt a twinge of sadness as the distance grew between us and that gorgeous beach view.
I glanced at Kline out of the corner of my eye. He was softly singing the words, tapping out a beat on the steering wheel. He looked delicious—aviators, two days’ worth of scruff, handsome mouth set in a soft grin. I wanted to eat him with a spoon.
