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Two long fingers slid inside her from behind, and her hips brazenly arched and rolled back to take them deeper, and he obliged by filling her. He curved his fingers, and as he withdrew them, his knuckles grazed a sensitive spot inside her that pushed her closer to orgasm. She shuddered as a breathless, pleasurable moan rolled up from her throat.
She felt him smile against the curve of her shoulder. “You like that, baby?”
She nodded jerkily against his hold on her chin. “Do it again.”
He chuckled, even as he fucked her slow and deep with his fingers once again. “Greedy girl.”
Oh, she was so greedy for this, for him, and she didn’t care. Not when the promise of the most intense climax of her life beckoned just out of her reach. Her fingers doubled their efforts, and the climb toward the peak of ecstasy began.
“That’s it, baby,” he coaxed her, his mouth leaving damp, suckling kisses along her neck and chafing her skin with beard burn. “I want to feel you come around my fingers.”
He bit the tendon in her shoulder, hard enough that all of her nerve endings reacted, and she cried out as her body began to quake with her release and her inner muscles pulsed tight around his pumping fingers. When the wild orgasm finally ebbed, he released his hold on her an
d she flopped forward on the bed, her eyes closed and her entire body lax and flushed with satisfaction. Who knew that nice guy Leo was such a hot, dirty man in the bedroom?
He gave her bare ass a playful smack that made her grunt in response, which caused him to chuckle. “Told you it was going to get good.”
It had been phenomenal. The only thing that could have made it any better was having his thick shaft thrusting inside of her instead of his fingers. “Cocky much?” she muttered, though she was smiling into the pillow.
He leaned over and kissed her cheek oh-so-sweetly, and she sighed in contentment. “Only when I know I’m right . . . which is pretty much all the time,” he teased.
* * *
Leo headed into the bathroom before he did something stupid . . . like fuck Peyton without a condom. She was soft and pliant from her orgasm, her smooth bare ass on display, and it would have been so easy to push her legs apart from behind and this time use his cock to make her come.
But the truth was, he didn’t have any protection with him. He wasn’t the kind of guy who had casual affairs, and he didn’t carry a condom around with him in his wallet for “just in case” occasions, nor did he keep them in his toiletry bag thinking he was going to get lucky when he was out of town for business. For him, having sex was a thought-out process, and one he was usually prepared for when the time came to sleep with a woman.
This morning was one of those very few times where he wished he’d stashed a condom somewhere to use. Because as he stripped off his gym shorts and his thick, aching erection sprang free, throbbing with the need for release—preferably within the tight clasp of Peyton’s body wringing him dry—he knew that his hand was going to have to jack him off because there was no way he’d be able to have breakfast with her parents without getting a boner every time he looked at Peyton and remembered how beautifully uninhibited she’d been as he’d pushed her over the edge.
He groaned and scrubbed a hand along the stubble on his jaw, then opened the glass door to the shower and turned on the water. As soon as it was warm, he stepped beneath the spray. He soaped up, washed his hair, and rinsed off, and scowled as his dick still stood straight at attention, mocking him as if to say, I’m not going anywhere until you give me what I need.
He huffed out an annoyed breath and knew it wouldn’t take long to spill his load if he imagined his hand was Peyton’s soft lips enveloping him and her warm mouth sucking down every inch of his cock as he buried himself against her throat. Blood flowed to his dick at the dirty, filthy thought, making him excruciatingly, stubbornly hard.
Wanting to get the deed done and over with so he could get on with the day, he braced a flattened palm on the tiled wall facing away from the shower head. He wrapped the long fingers of his other hand tight around his erection and started to tug on his dick in long, steady strokes. Eyes closed, in his mind he saw Peyton on her knees in front of him, her gaze cast upward to meet his so seductively as she leaned forward, her lips parting to—
The clicking sound of the shower door opening sounded like a gunshot in the quiet stall and made him flinch. Like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he let go of his shaft and jerked his head to the side to look at her. She was staring at his jutting cock, eyes wide and biting the corner of her lower lip, which only made him fucking harder.
And that was before his gaze lowered from her face and he realized that she was completely naked. She’d taken off her pajama top, her small, tight, lithe body on display. Those pert breasts and tight nipples made his mouth water for a taste, and he didn’t stop there. He surveyed her flat belly, the shadowed crease between her thighs where he craved to do wicked things to her with his tongue, and those legs he desperately wanted clutched tightly around his waist.
By the time he made his way back up to her face, she had a smirk on her lips. “Please, don’t stop what you were doing on my account,” she said, referring to catching him in the act moments ago.
The shower spray hit his body and bounced off, sprinkling her chest and belly with droplets of water he wanted to lick off with his tongue. “It’s because of you that I have this problem,” he grumbled, and it wasn’t helping that she was unabashedly naked in front of him.
“Well, Mr. Grumpy Pants, I’m more than happy to help with your problem, if you’d just ask. I actually thought that you were coming into the bathroom to get a condom so we could finish what we’d started out there,” she said, indicating the bedroom. “But instead, you’re opting for self-love.”
He raised his brows, taken off guard by her demure, polite description that contradicted the woman he’d just pinned to the mattress and fucked with his fingers—and she’d enjoyed it. “Self-love?”
“A polite way of saying masturbating,” she said, adorably prim.
He braced a hand on the stall doorframe and leaned closer, his gaze dropping to her lips. “Tell me a dirty way of saying it,” he dared, curious to see if he could make her blush even harder.
“Is that the secret password for getting into the shower with you?”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
She thought for a moment before her eyes lit up with humor. “Jackin’ the beanstalk.”
He burst out laughing. Jesus Christ, she killed him. It wasn’t a dirty description, but it was hilarious and unique, and he’d give her points for that.
