Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Paisley
T he moment my lips wrap around the firm, succulent fruit, Tom’s on me, devouring my lips like a starving man. And I welcome him, ready to embrace his chaos with open arms. He steals the sweet taste of strawberry from my lips, replacing it with his own addictive kiss as he guides us back to my bed and our previously compromising position.
He kneels on the floor before me, silhouetted against the backdrop of the expansive window. He’s bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, his every contour etched with precision, and his sharp features illuminated by the evening light.
Tom might be on his knees, but there’s no doubt who’s in charge here. I’m completely at his mercy. I expect him to push me back down on the bed so that we can pick up where we left off. But he doesn’t. Instead, he cards his fingers through my hair and guides my head back so that he can burn a fiery path of kisses from the sensitive skin behind my ear all the way down to the nape of my neck.
“You’re so beautiful.” His voice is thick with desire and need, his whispered words sending a rush of heat straight to my stomach.
“Tom.” It’s all I can say. I’m so desperate for more that I can’t even find the words to beg. I can only tangle my fingers in his hair and drag his lips back to mine.
I need him. Now.
“Patience, Paisley,” he laughs darkly. “What’s the rush?”
Tom punctuates his taunt with a barely-there brush of his fingers against my underwear, and I reach my limit. In a moment of frustration, I grab his shirt and pull him down to the bed beside me, the white sheets billowing around him like a cloud before settling back down.
Kneeling over him, I watch as his surprise is swiftly swallowed by a much darker, sinful expression. One that suggests I’ve naively started a competition I’m not entirely sure I can win.
His hands reach for my hips and tug me onto him at just the right angle for my pulsing core to brush against the unmistakable bulge in his unforgiving jeans. My sharp inhale mirrors Tom’s deeper groan of satisfaction. His fingers dig mercilessly into my sides as I grind over his hard, confined length. His hands spur me on, undulating my hips forward and back until we’re lost in the rhythm of our shared pleasure.
Tom trails his fingers up my back, feathering an electric path over my spine before retreating down to my waist, unzipping my dress as he goes. The balmy air caresses my exposed skin, and I delight in the heat flushing through every cell in my body.
“Lift your arms,” Tom says, his husky command washing over me. Quickly, I unbuckle the delicate belt at my waist and raise my arms so he can push my dress over my body. The heavy material slumps to the floor, and I feel gloriously, filthily exposed. My bare thighs are spread obscenely over Tom’s jean-clad hips, and my hand is buried in his rumpled shirt to keep my balance.
Tom’s heated gaze rakes over my body. Our anticipation grows thicker with every passing second. I feel it burning from my peaked nipples straining against my barely-there black bra all the way down to my matching thong, now glistening with arousal.
Then, in one confident motion, Tom wraps his strong arms around me and flips us over, nestling his broad frame between my legs and pinning me down with his calloused hands. I savour his boldness, practically squirming beneath his body as I think about what’s to come.
My chest heaves as Tom hooks his fingers into the transparent material of my bra and lowers his head to take one of my exposed nipples into his wicked mouth. I cry out at the shooting zap of pleasure that spreads through me, warming my stomach before coiling into that luscious, aching spot between my thighs. Tom’s satisfied hum vibrates over me, and I bow into his mouth, begging for more. And when he switches his mouth to my other nipple, I nearly lose it, overwhelmed as he continues to lavish me with attention.
All too soon, he releases my nipple and starts a tantalising tease of staccato kisses down my ribs, over my stomach, and across the waistband of my lacy underwear. His hands fall to my knees and push my legs apart so that he can devour every inch of me.
The first swirl of his tongue around my pulsing clit has me fisting the bedsheet, the coarse rub of lace over my sensitive nerves a cruel kind of blissful torture.
“Tom, I need you,” I pant, aware that if he keeps this up for much longer, I’ll come before he’s even inside me.
“Show me what you want,” Tom growls, lifting his head from between my legs. This might be just a holiday fling, but that erotic image is going to be etched in my memory forever.
Reaching down, I take his hands and guide them to where I want him. Tom catches on quick, fingering the hem of my underwear and dragging the material down my legs. Then, slowly, carefully, he slides one finger inside me.
With practised moves, he works me up, stroking that beautiful spot inside me before adding another finger when my gasped sighs grow ever more desperate.
“You take my fingers so beautifully, Paisley. So good for me.”
“Tom,” is the only response I find as I grip my hair in wanton frustration.
“And you beg so prettily, too. Let me hear you, Paisley. Do you want more?”
“Yes. God, yes,” I breathe, desperate to take anything he’ll give me.
“You got it, darling.” Tom jumps from the bed, tearing at his clothes to reveal a body of tense, sculpted muscle. His arms are strong, and his legs powerful. His firm chest boasts a smattering of coarse hair that leads to the hint of a six-pack.
And then, there’s his cock, standing obscenely to attention in a thatch of dark curls. I haven’t had sex in nearly two years, and that’s how I’m getting back on the horse? Suddenly, I’m questioning the sanity of this plan. Well, almost.
Tom prowls towards the bed with a wicked grin on his face. He inches closer and closer, his expression predatory as he plants his hands on either side of my head and uses his knees to push my legs even further apart. He’s a golden retriever with the instincts of a wolf. And I’m totally willing to offer myself as prey.
As if by magic—but more likely from his pocket—Tom reveals a little foil packet between his fingers. He tears into it and sheaths his velvet length with the condom, throwing the foil aside and giving his cock a few deliberate strokes. It feels like he’s giving me a private show, one that’s so intense it’s hard to keep my eyes on him.
“Like what you see?” he asks with a smug smile.
“Uh-huh,” I agree eloquently.
Tom hums as he grips onto the headboard behind me and lowers himself between my legs. All I can do is look up at his dominating form while I try to calm my racing pulse.
With one hand, he reaches down and glides his length over me, coating himself in my slickness before notching into position.
Then, he stops.
“Please, Tom,” I moan, my voice shaking with need.
“You asked for it, Paisley,” he says menacingly, pushing into me in one smooth thrust. The ache is delicious, my body stretching to accommodate his length. It stings but in the best way.
My breath catches in my throat, my back arched off the bed as I chase the feeling. He thrusts again, this time even deeper, and stars burst behind my eyelids.
“Are you okay,” he asks, his voice straining around the words.
“More,” I moan, wrapping my legs around his waist to keep him inside of me. “I can take it.”
He looks at me, searching my face for any sign he needs to slow down. Then, reassured, he turns his gaze downwards, his chest rumbling when he runs his finger along the place where we’re joined.
“Tell me if I need to stop,” is the only warning I get before Tom’s slamming into me with the relentless force I’ve been yearning for.
I cry out every time his hips meet mine, dragging my nails down his back as I desperately try to find purchase.
I can feel my release building, bubbling to the surface as his thrusts become harder, deeper, and more overwhelming. That sparkling heat inside me spirals into the pit of my stomach before bursting through every cell in my body when Tom sends me over the edge.
My orgasm crests over me mercilessly. It drags me under until all I can do is scream Tom’s name from the top of my lungs. And he follows me into the chasm, his thrusts falling out of rhythm until he throws his head back and spills into the condom.
For a moment, all we can do is breathe. Tom drops his forehead to mine, anchoring us as we both come down from that euphoric high. Then, just as the sweat starts to cool on my skin, Tom tumbles off me and throws his arm over his eyes in a display of satisfied exhaustion. “Paisley, you’re amazing,” he groans.
I have no idea what the protocol is for a one-night stand, a holiday fling, or whatever this is. What do I do now? Is he expecting me to kick him out? Do we cuddle? Am I meant to offer him a drink or something? For lack of a better plan, I scoot off the bed in search of my clothes.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Tom asks, propping himself up on an elbow and giving me a cocky smile.
“Erm…to freshen up?” The look of relief that passes over Tom’s face triggers my own. Maybe this doesn’t have to be complicated. “I’ll be right back,” I promise.
“Okay. But hurry up, or I’ll pick a film without you.” I almost laugh when Tom wriggles himself up the bed to slip under the sheets like he owns the place.
Guess we’re having a movie night, then. I grab a fresh pair of underwear and quickly wash up in the bathroom. By the time I slide back into bed, Tom’s already loaded up the Harry Potter series on the small, hotel television.
“Chamber of Secrets, or straight to The Deathly Hallows?” Tom asks, pulling me into his side and kissing my hair.
I squirm to get comfortable. All those hours spent in the gym make him a pretty lousy pillow. “Deathly Hallows Part Two.”
“You got it,” he says, aiming the remote and starting the movie I can probably recite in my sleep. Mason’s obsessed with it. I must have watched it at least fifty times.
“So,” Tom says, not even managing to get through the opening credits in silence. “We both have another day left in Vegas.”
“Is that a question, or are we just saying facts?”
“Well, you said this would be a one-time thing, but if we’re here for another day, we could do this again, right? Same rules, no numbers or anything,” he adds quickly. “Just…one more day.”
“I suppose we do have an entire engagement platter to finish.”
“It is a lot of food for one person,” he nods seriously.
“I’ve got a meeting in the morning, but maybe we could see each other after lunch?”
Tom’s answering smile is blinding. It’s just one more day. One more day of stepping out of my comfort zone and mind-blowing sex.
What’s the worst that could happen?