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“I want to come,” she said.
“Do you? What’s going to make you come?”
“You,” she said, “inside me.”
“Do you want me to fuck you?”
“Yes.”
“Say it.” She met his eyes, her lips set in a determined pout. “I want you to fuck me.”
“And now I’m the one who’s going to take orders,” he said, pressing himself against the tight entrance to her body and testing her, watching her face as he pushed deep inside.
“I want to touch you,” she said, her eyes locked with his, desperation visible there.
“No, pretty girl, that’s not the game,” he said. “You’re mine. And that’s better than touching me, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she said, her eyes fluttering closed as he withdrew from her and thrust back inside. “Yes,” she said again.
And then he was lost, completely. There was nothing but the feel of her, the smell of her. Of being surrounded by her. She threw her head back, arched against him, her arms stretched up behind her head, her internal muscles tightening around his cock as she came.
And then he let go. And for the second time that night, Evie James had blown his mind.
Chapter Five
Evie hadn’t meant to fall asleep. When she woke up, she was in a gigantic, unfamiliar bed alone, the sun just staring to rise up over the ocean.
“Shit,” she muttered, looking around the room and spotting her discarded dress, shoes, bra and…her panties where elsewhere. “Shit, shit, shit…”
She stumbled out of bed, the sheets balled up against her chest in a protective, silken wad. She tiptoed through the room and collected her things, then scurried into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
She put her clothes on quickly, then made the mistake of looking in the mirror. “Oh…oh dear.” She was the epitome of the walk of shame. Bedraggled was the word. Her hair was sticking out at weird angles and her makeup had slid down her face, leaving tracks of black beneath her eyes.
She turned on the sink and put her hands beneath the cold water, before splashing herself in the face. “Ah, dammit!”
This was not a moisturizer commercial, and she was not a model. She did not feel refreshed. She felt soggy and half-drowned.
She looked at herself again. Well, at least the makeup was gone. But she looked like she’d had a fight with a hose.
She smoothed her now-damp hair and walked out of the bathroom, back into the empty bedroom. She wondered where Caleb was. And why he hadn’t fallen asleep.
She tiptoed down the hall and to the kitchen, and that was where she saw him, sitting in a chair at the table, upright, asleep.
He obviously hadn’t wanted to sleep with her. Shame prickled her scalp. Obviously she’d violated the rules of the one-night stand. But she didn’t know the rules of the one-night stand because she’d never had one before. Because she was woeful and pathetic and not at all sophisticated.
And she felt even less sophisticated, and a bit more woeful, now that she’d had one. Because she just felt…strange. A little bit hollow, a little hungover and a lot embarrassed.
She walked through the room, past Caleb, and out into the living area, where she retrieved her panties and stuffed them in her purse before slipping out the front door and into the cool morning air.
She pulled her phone out of her bag and started searching for a car service. She was not calling anyone she knew. No one ever had to know about this, ever.
It was clear to her that Caleb already wished he could forget it, and she was starting to feel the same way.
But even while she felt slightly hot and shamefaced, calling a car out to an address she had to do some investigation to find, standing there in last night’s dress, just advertising what she’d been doing, she knew she wouldn’t forget all of it.
She would never forget the way he’d made her feel. Would never forget that for one night, she’d had the kind of sex she’d never even imagined was real. That she’d had the kind of sex she didn’t think a woman like her could have.
Her ex could suck it. Or rather not, because she didn’t want him anywhere near her. Not after a transcendent experience like Caleb.
