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I smile and he kisses me softly.
“When did you become mine?” I whisper up at him.
He kisses me again, his tongue slowly moving against mine. The feeling behind it nearly brings me to tears. “When I couldn’t leave you tonight.”
Our eyes are locked and, unable to help myself, I say the words I know I shouldn’t.
“You know I’m in love with you, right?” I whisper.
He smiles sexily. “I kind of hoped you were.” His lips take mine as he slides his slick body back into my sex.
I smile into his lips. This guy is going to be the death of me.
“Legs up, baby.” He growls. “I need to fuck my girl.”
“Didn’t you just do that?” I pant.
“I’m just warming up.”
* * *
There are three cardinal rules that any self-respecting woman should adhere to if she is going to acquire any hand in her relationship—and by hand,
I mean upper.
Rule number one: never let him fuck you up the ass without asking.
Rule number two: never say the words I love you first while still drunk on an orgasm high.
Rule number three: never sit on the edge of the bathtub and watch him shower with love heart-shaped eyes.
It’s just plain embarrassing because, right now, at this minute, I am the world’s biggest One Direction fan and Harry fucking Styles is in my shower.
He knows it, too. His eyes occasionally flicker up to meet mine as he rubs the soap all over his muscular physique.
“Get in with me.” He smirks.
“No, I’m happy watching the show.” I smile.
His huge, tanned body fills the shower, and his dark, trimmed pubic hair is the focal point of the masterpiece. He is manicured all over and everything is where it should be. Muscles, dick, hair, tatts… those naughty but nice dimples.
I’m totally screwed.
Stace Williams is a piece of art. He’s valuable and adored by any woman who is lucky enough to ever experience the pleasure he bestows upon them.
I feel grateful that I have had the opportunity to meet him, to touch him, to have had him touch me, and I wonder if we hadn’t been locked in a room together if we would ever have had our connection. Would he have even looked my way? I wonder what kind of women he normally pursues out in the real world.
Bringing me back to the present, he tries to sweeten the deal by giving himself a few long strokes with his soapy hand. My mind goes back to the first night we had sex and the masturbation show he gave me. I’ve never seen anything like it before. It’s an all time top memory in the bank. One I will revisit again and again.
“We need to get out of here,” he replies casually as he soaps up his chest.
“Hmm.” I’m preoccupied as my eyes follow his hand.
“We can’t go to any airports because they will be looking for us there. We are safe in Bogota for the time being, but we can’t stay here for long.” He thinks for a moment as he washes himself. “The problem is I don’t have any money in my real name bank accounts, but if I access my Mac accounts, they will know where we are.”
I nod. “Hmm.”
“Where do you want to go?” he asks.
