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If only she knew that I needed that moment of stillness as much as she did. But I’ll never let on.
“You trying to tell me to hurry up and fuck you?” My voice is low, gravelly. “Greedy, greedy girl.”
This Hannah is different to the woman with the blindfold. She enjoys being in charge, but I think she equally enjoys letting someone else sit in the driver’s seat. It’s exciting, how open and curious she is. How playful.
“You want a quick and dirty one-night stand, huh? You want to be thoroughly fucked? Tomorrow you’re not going to be able to take a step without remembering how good it felt to have my cock in you. I’m going to leave you satisfied and sore, so when you sit that pretty ass down you’ll have to squeeze your thighs together.”
“Bloody hell.” She’s practically panting as she wriggles against me, frustrated. Not wanting to wait.
I fill my hands with her ass, lifting her up so I can tease her for one more minute. So I can see the plea in her face before I give her what she wants.
“Owen.”
My name is like a prayer and a sentence all at once. I’m lost to her, lost to how good we feel together. Lost to the reality that I’ve well and truly screwed myself for the rest of this job. Because I won’t be able to forget what she looks like—wild-eyed and open-mouthed. I won’t be able to forget the way she looked up at me as she sucked my dick. The way she teased me, taunted me. The way she sees everything.
I’m a goner.
“You feel so good.” I thrust up into her, driving hard and deep. She’s so wet there’s no resistance at all. “I’m going to bounce you up and down until I feel those beautiful thighs shake.”
“I...” She’s incoherent now. Babbling pleasure sounds that started off as words but ended up as sighs and moans and gasps.
Wrapping my arms around her, I move us to the edge of the bed so I can plant my feet against the ground for leverage. When I stand, she locks her ankles behind my back and clings to my neck. She’s all muscle, but she’s still light enough for me to carry. Light enough that I don’t need to lean her against a wall.
“Don’t drop me,” she gasps.
“I’ve got you.”
Her mouth is on mine, ravenous. Can she taste herself on my lips? Her body is soft in my hands, letting me control the pace. I slip my hands under her thighs and move her body how I want it. How it feels good.
I slide her up and down my cock, flexing with each stroke as I go deep. I start off slower, taking my time but soon I’m losing control. My balls are achy and full, and they slap up against her with each stroke, drawing me close to the edge. She smells like faded perfume and perspiration, a potent combination. And her lips are firm and smooth, her tongue driving into my mouth as I screw her senseless.
“Oh God...yes, that spot.” She bows in my arms and her internal muscles start to pulse.
I’ve got no hope of hanging on now, as she draws me deeper. I hold her tight and thrust up, pounding into her over and over as we chase release. I’m so close, our pleasure is a pinpoint and I chase it. I shut my eyes, going back to what she did to me before, letting my other senses take over.
“Owen,” she whispers into my ear, her voice hoarse. “I want to feel you come.”
I’m a dead man. A slave to pleasure.
There’s nothing but the smell of her, the subtle saltiness on her lips. The sound of skin slapping against skin. And the feel of her—hot, wet, tight.
“Hannah,” I groan, bouncing her up and down, my movements stiff and jerky.
Then I go deep one last time and I shatter, my cock pulsing inside her as I come. Hard. It’s that moment that she tips over, too, her body squeezing mine so tight I think I might faint from the intensity of it all. After a moment, I stumble back to the bed and drop down, folding us onto our sides while I’m still inside her.
The shock waves of orgasm ripple through us and she curls her hand into mine. I want to hold her forever.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Hannah
IWAKECOCOONEDin plush, expensive sheets, like I’ve been sleeping on a thousand-thread-count Egyptian cotton cloud. The pillow cradles my head and sunlight streams in between a gap in the blinds, bathing the hotel room with a buttery glow. I wonder if I’ve been smiling all night. Every part of me aches—I’m overworked and overloaded. I’m satisfaction personified.
But when I roll over, my hand automatically reaching for him, reality jolts me. His side of the bed is cold and the sheets are pulled up neatly, which is a surprise. Normally I sleep twisted in my sheets, the endless spinning of my mind causing me to toss and turn. So either Owen screwed me so good that I slept like a log...or he tucked me in and rearranged the sheets when he got up.
Thinking about that gives me a funny feeling in my chest.
I push up and swing my legs over the edge of the bed, my mind churning. The idea of putting on that sexy black dress this early in the morning makes me cringe, so I settle on wrapping myself in a fluffy bathrobe.
