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It was a master suite, with an entryway, a grand living room, and a private bedroom at the other side. My heels tapped against the hardwood as I made my entrance. I headed to the floor-to-ceiling windows at the back, the Eiffel Tower on full display.
I took in the view as I waited for him to arrive. I expected someone like him to be punctual, so I pulled out my phone to check the time. He was ten minutes late. I turned to set my purse on the counter but stilled when I spotted him in the armchair.
Knees wide apart. Elbows on the armrests. His big hands together. He’d been sitting there watching me the entire time, and judging by the intensity in his eyes, he’d enjoyed the view.
Something about this man made me go absolutely still. I had no voice. No control over my body. I never let a man take my power, but Bartholomew stole it straight from my hands. I did my best to keep my breathing even, to keep my stare hard, to pretend he didn’t affect me the way he did.
I hoped he bought it.
After a long stare, he rose to his feet. His jacket was already on the back of the chair, and he wore a short-sleeved shirt that showed all that arm porn. With the confidence of a Roman emperor, he walked right up to me, lowered his face to mine, his lips hovering just inches away, and then he stared.
I could barely breathe.
His hand cupped my cheek then slid into my hair, and as he spoke, his eyes dropped to my lips. “I’ve thought about you all day, sweetheart.” He cradled the back of my head as he kissed me, a gentle kiss that sent shivers everywhere. Each was soft and delicate, a quiet simmer on the stove, the heat slowly rising and bringing us to a boil. His mouth opened fully and took mine, his tongue entering my mouth to claim its victory.
At some point, my fingers had dug into his hair, and my hand clutched his strong shoulder. My heart raced in excitement rather than fear, and I fell into this sweet oblivion without reserve.
My hands gripped the bottom of his shirt and tugged it over his head. Once my palms felt his bare skin, it was like touching the sun. Searing heat moved through my extremities to my center, the transfer of heat happening at the speed of electricity.
He pulled my shirt off next and unclasped my bra with a single hand. Once the material fell, he squeezed both of my tits with his hands and moaned into my mouth. He must be a tit man, because he grabbed on to them every chance he could.
He guided me backward to the bed, popping my jeans open and tugging them down over my ass as we moved.
The master bedroom was decorated in a rosy blush and crystal. A large mural was on the wall, depicting ancient times. We both got naked from the waist down and made it onto the bed. When my back hit the soft sheets, I realized he had already stripped back the covers so we could fuck without interruption.
He was clearly in a hurry to fuck me without a condom because he didn’t go down on me like he usually did. He went straight for the kill, separating my thighs with his and guiding himself in with a smooth entry.
I didn’t need any foreplay anyway. The sight of his naked body was more than enough foreplay for me.
His eyes burned into mine as he sank deep, giving a quiet moan under his breath when he felt skin-on-skin. “Fuck.”
Yes, fuck. Perfect word to describe it.
He fucked me like he’d never had the pleasure before. Hard and aggressive, pounding into me as he supported one of my legs with his arm. The hard muscles of his chest and shoulders started to gleam with sweat, but he pressed on like he had the endurance of an ultramarathoner.
My only job was to lie there and let him fuck me.
God, I was a lucky woman.
His arm suddenly scooped under the small of my back, and he brought us together differently, rubbing his pelvis right against my clit over and over, his big dick pulsing inside me.
He seemed to know I was all about the clit, because he ground into me over and over, thrusting inside me with deep and even strokes, making my legs start to tremble because I knew he was purposely trying to make me come.
Most men never even bothered to try.
My nails clawed his back, and I thrust along with him, my head rolling back the moment it started. It was all too much, the feel of his body on top of mine, the shadows in the bedroom, the sounds of our moans and the slickness of our wet bodies, the fact that this was a clandestine meeting in a hotel like star-crossed lovers. I came, and I came hard, probably harder than I ever had.
He wouldn’t let me look away as I rode the throes of inexplicable pleasure. His hand fisted my hair and anchored me in position, sitting in the front row of my tearful production. He watched the whole thing, his dick thickening inside me in anticipation of his release. “Always look at the man who makes you come.” His fingers tightened on the back of my neck as he continued to fuck me.
Tears streaked down my cheeks to my ears, and my nails clawed his back the way a cat shredded a throw pillow. My hand gripped his ass, and I tugged him into me. “Come inside me.” I tugged on him again and again. The climax was over, but the heat still burned between my legs. “You’ve earned it.”
He reacted quicker than the flip of a light switch, his hips bucking out of rhythm, his moans more like growls from a wolf. The cords in his neck tightened, and his jawline became sharper than cut glass when he clenched his teeth like that. His normally fair skin was tinted red with exertion and desire, and he pumped into me like a man desperate to mark his territory.
I could feel it inside me. Feel the weight. Feel the heat.
He came to a stop, his dick still so hard it was clear that climax didn’t make a dent.
Both breathing hard, we looked at each other, our bodies tangled together, the heat between us still burning us alive.
