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I touched my fingers lightly to the underside – and it immediately bucked upwards with a jolt of a contraction.
“Whoa, fella,” I laughed, then proceeded to cup his balls in my palm and slowly stroke his shaft with light, feathery touches.
“Fuck,” he groaned.
His whole body strained rigidly as I gently stroked him up and down. I fondled his balls at the same time, tickling the sack with my fingernails.
Damn he was hard. And hot. I could feel his heartbeat pulsing against my palm, and loved the feel of that tiny flutter tickling my skin.
As I caressed him, he moaned.
I loved that sound.
I also loved looking at his body. His chiseled abs… the slight rise of his hip bones… the strong contours of his muscles… a couple of veins just under the surface of the olive skin, protruding the way they normally do from guys’ arms when they’re totally ripped. Derek was physical perfection.
I was getting so turned on that I wanted to proceed to the main event. So I removed my hands and pulled away.
He groaned. “Why’d you stop?”
Then he heard the rrriiip of the foil packet.
“Ohhhh,” he grinned.
I rolled the condom over his head, down the length of his cock to his thick base. Then I stood up.
Right on cue, he gripped my ass in his hands and lifted me effortlessly in the air again. I wrapped my legs around him and looped my arms over his neck, and moaned in pleasure as I felt something thick and blunt press against my dripping lips.
Without warning, he leaned over and bit my neck. I gasped at the dull, exciting pain, then cried out a second later as his cock thrust into me, slipping all the way.
“Oh God!” I cried out, and suddenly he slammed me up against the wall. He was biting harder on my neck as he thrust into me, deep and powerful and insistent.
He pulled me away from the wall and we smacked into a lamp, sending it crashing to the floor.
“Watch ouhhhhhhh,” I moaned as placed me on the dresser where the lamp had been and fucked my brains out, slapping his pelvis against my ass, driving himself deep inside me.
I arched my back and grinded against his body, crying out, and then I was in the air again. He slammed me against another wall, and adrenaline coursed through my body.
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” I drunkenly pleaded, chanting it like a mantra, which only made him go harder, and faster, pounding into me, his thickness driving as deep into me as it could go.
He bent me back and positioned my head over the bed so I had a little support for my weight, then – with his cock still inside me – pulled one of my legs from around his waist and draped it over his chest so that my foot just went past his shoulder. Then he did the same with the other leg. If he had been lying on the bed, I would have been sitting on top of him with his cock inside me and my legs flush with his torso.
I cried out as he began pounding again – but this time, because of the angle, the head of his cock was stroking my g-spot, sliding over it, pressing it, over and over and over. My orgasm was building, starting to get close to the crest of the wave, near the point of no return –
When he stumbled back against the dresser and crashed into the flat screen TV.
It didn’t hurt me – I was totally insulated from the shock by his body – but it scared the hell out of me. And now he was basically lying across the dresser, and I was almost in an upright position – and the TV had cracked and fallen halfway off its wall mountings into the gap behind the furniture.
“Are you okay?” I asked in alarm.
His only answer was to lift up my ass and reposition my legs so that now I was astride him. Suddenly I was riding him as he lay on the dresser, fucking him and not caring that we were destroying the hotel room, just so long as I could have that cock inside me.
We stayed like that for a minute, and I could feel myself getting closer, closer – when suddenly one of the feet of the dresser broke and we suddenly were sliding down a thirty-degree incline.
He shouted in surprise and I was shrieking with laughter as he staggered backwards towards the bed –
And then I slammed into the mattress, and he was fucking me again, twice as fast and three times as hard and I screamed with pleasure and shock and delight as he bit my neck and grabbed my breast, roughly squeezing the nipple as his cock pounded thick and deep inside me.
Again I was getting closer, and suddenly we were rolling off the bed. I screamed as we fell, him onto his back, me jolting down hard on his cock. Then he was rolling me onto my back, my naked body was on the lush carpet, and he kept rocking into me without missing a stroke. The bed had moved with every thrust, but here on the floor, nothing could give way – so my body stayed stationary (except for my breasts, which jiggled and slid as he pounded into me) and I felt him go even deeper, harder, more powerfully inside me.
Suddenly I was over the edge, screaming, and then he was hollering, and I felt his cock explode inside me as my own orgasm jolted every inch of my body. I grabbed his hair and slammed his head down against my shoulder as he thrust away, his cock getting larger, then a split second later smaller, larger then smaller, until his contractions tapered off and mine slowly subsided into low, sweet, lingering bliss.
He groaned and kissed my neck softly where he’d bitten it just a moment ago.
“We need to do that more often,” he whispered huskily.
I laughed. “Might get expensive.”
He looked around the room, at the lamp on the floor, the broken dresser, the cracked TV hanging at a crazy angle off the wall.
He shrugged. “Fuck it… I’m rich.”
And then we went at it again.
78
I woke up the next morning feeling like someone was taking a baseball bat to the inside of my skull. My stomach was doing slow, nauseating somersaults, my body was bruised from our sexual rampage the night before, and my lady parts were tender and sore.
I felt like slipping back into unconsciousness for another week. Maybe two.
I propped myself up on one elbow and surveyed the wreckage.
Damn we’d broken a lot of hotel property.
The only reason I dragged my ass out of bed was that I had promised Shanna I would see her off before her early flight back to New York. So I left behind a gorgeous, naked, sleeping man and got into the shower, hoping that the hot water would wash away my alcohol poisoning.
Nope.
I got dressed, put on minimal makeup, and watched my boyfriend as he slept. He was lying on his front, and the covers were draped halfway off his sculpted ass.
What a view… I just wanted to reach out and touch it…
But obligations called. And if I woke him up by fondling his butt, there was a good chance I might not make it down to breakfast.
Not to mention my head, stomach, and naughty bits might not be able to take another round right now.
I reached the hotel restaurant at about half past nine. Shanna was sitting by the window, already looking put-together and mostly recovered. As I recalled from college, she had that gift. On the other hand, she also had lots of practice.
“Mornin’, sunshine,” she said cheerily as I slumped into the chair opposite her. She touched the massive Bloody Mary next to her plate and asked, “Want a little sumpin’-sumpin’?”
“God, no,” I said, my stomach threatening to leap out of my throat at the thought.
“Best remedy for a hangover ever. Well, no, that’s not true. Best way to never get a hangover is never stop being drunk.”
“Is that your secret?”
“Hell yeah, bitch. Always has been. I’m ridin’ the buzz I woke up with all the way back to New York. Sooooooo… what did you do last night? I know who you did, I’m just curious about the details.”
“Wrecked a hotel room,” I said, and couldn’t help but grin.
“Reeeeeaaaally.” She leaned forward eagerly. “I’m assuming we’re talking a lot of extreme sports sex, and not some kind of wall-punching rock star freakout.”
“No. I mean, yes – the former, not the latter.”
“I’m so jealous…” she sighed, then got a mischievous look on her face. “Last night was just like old times: I wind up passed out, and you end up with the hot rocker.”
“Hey, that was your own fault,” I said as I sipped a glass of ice water.
“What, you ending up with the hot rocker?”
“No, you passing out. Why didn’t you try to sleep with Ryan?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Are you seriously going to go there?”
“What, he’s not good enough for you?” I asked, a little offended on Ryan’s behalf.
“No, he’s hella fine. But he seems to be carrying a certain torch for someone who shall remain nameless hack hack Kaitlyn,” she coughed into her fist.
My already overwrought stomach was doing triple cartwheels now. “No – that’s – unh-unh – ”
“Oh please. He’s so into you, I couldn’t have won him over if I’d been offering free blowjobs and lollipops. Which I was. And it still didn’t work.”
I squinted. “…what does that even mean?”
“It means – fuck what it means. The point is, you’re hogging all the men, Kaitlyn.”
“I am not.”
“Okay, the hot, rich, rock star ones, then.”
“I am not.”
“Okay, just the lead singer and the bassist of Bigger, then.”
