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“You mean, within fifteen seconds?”
My face splits with a wide smile as I smooth my hand over the front of his pants, palming his rock-hard erection. “I’ve heard rumors floating around at Route 66 about that. Not sure who started those.”
“I should find that person and make sure they stand corrected.” His grip on my ass loosens, his hand shifting around to a slit in my dress. Warm fingers coast over my bare skin as they trace a path up over my hip.
He sucks in a sharp breath.
“I warned you, this dress isn’t designed for modesty.” Or underwear. But it has its advantages where easy access is concerned.
“It was designed for you.” He releases my nape to curl his fist around my hair, giving it a gentle tug back, until I’m peering up into nothingness. But I can feel him staring down at me in the darkness, his shallow breaths kissing my skin.
He leans in to find my ear with his lips. “Speaking of playgrounds, I always liked the seesaw best.” His hand shifts from my hip, inward.
I gasp as his index finger finds my slick center, glides along it. “Why is that?”
“It was so simple, and yet so much fun. Two people climb on and take turns, going up”—he slips his finger inside me—“and down.” He pulls it out, before sliding it back in. “Over and over again.” His nearly inaudible whisper in my ear is intoxicating, stalling my tongue and my brain for long seconds as I revel in his touch.
But I’m desperate to touch him too. “I remember seesaws not being very fun when one person got off too soon, though.” I tug at his belt and pants until they come undone. The cotton of his boxer briefs is thin, granting me easy access to wrap my hand around him, to test his size. I groan with a mixture of relief and delight as I discover another reason for Garrett to be so arrogant.
My fingertips are inching beneath the elastic waistband when he stops me.
“You should wait a few minutes.”
“Why?”
His ragged breathing fills my ear. “Because you feel too good, and I wouldn’t want to feed into those inaccurate rumors.”
Having a man like Garrett explode in my hand within fifteen seconds would make me feel powerful, but we can boost my ego later. “As you wish.” I occupy my hands with his broad chest and my teeth with his earlobe as my arousal pools, his deft fingers working magic, his thumb circling my clit while two fingers stroke in and out. He catches that perfect spot every time, like a musician hitting every high note with precision. My body responds as if he’s tethered a string to my impending orgasm, and he’s drawing it out. I can’t recall the last time a man other than Bastard Bill brought me to this place, and it took me months of training him.
“Who taught you how to do that?”
“Why?”
“I need to send them a fruitcake.” If he’s this good with just his hands, I can’t imagine how skilled he is with his other tools.
He snorts. “Just to be clear, is that considered a gift or a punishment?”
My eyes roll back in my head as the throb in my lower belly intensifies. “The best gift,” I moan.
“Shhh. You’re getting loud.”
I press my lips together and bury my mouth in the crook of his neck, a lack of inhibition taking over as my body winds tighter beneath his skilled hand. Now that I’m here with Garrett, I never want to leave.
Garrett must sense the pending explosion because he speeds up his tempo, and his hand squeezes gently around my nape. “Come on, let me have it.”
I grit my teeth against the anguished sounds that threaten to sail from my lips. Garrett’s body bends with mine, keeping me upright as wave after wave of intense pleasure rockets through me.
When it’s all over, my legs wobble.
“Fuck, that was so hot.” His hand slips away from my sensitive flesh. “I wish I could have watched it.”
“Next time.” The second the words are out of my mouth, I’m scolding myself. Next time? This is the only time. Which means I need to make the most of it. “Your turn.” My lips land on his as I fumble with his pants, pushing them down his thighs. My fingertips hook around the elastic waistband of his underwear—
“Have you tried her phone?” Sara asks, suddenly on the other side of our door. So preoccupied with chasing this high, I never heard the footsteps.
“Not for a while. Let me try again.”
Garrett and I freeze, our mouths still pressed against each other as my body goes rigid.
“Fuck,” I whisper-hiss.
“Where is it?”
“In my purse.” Which is on the floor. Somewhere.
I drop to my knees, blindly searching. My fingertips catch the edge of the silky material just as it trills. I dig it out and shut it off.
