Chapter 12
Elle
Tonight, I last till midnight without collapsing in an exhausted heap. I tell Josh he absolutely should not come to bed with me, and Brandon agrees, but Josh is having none of it.
‘You’re going home tomorrow, baby,’ he whispers in my ear, ‘and you think I’d rather hang out with this fuckwit than have you naked and calling my name?’
He gets me, every time. The scent of him, and that dirty edge to his voice. ‘You’re very presumptuous. What if I’m too tired?’
I’m not too tired. I’m too tired to make small talk and keep drinking with his friends, but I’m never too tired for him, especially when I have to drag myself away from him tomorrow and, as Greer reminded me, focus on my career.
Not ten minutes later, I have him lying beneath me, his arms folded behind his head. I’m straddling him: he’s all mine. I definitely have an unfair advantage over Brandon.
I love this stubbly look on Josh. I love it when that dirty blonde hair is messed up and screaming grab me.
I love running my hands down the hairy tautness of his forearms, over the bulk of his biceps, and back down over his chest. And I particularly love the rush of power and desire that comes over me when the back of my hand moves lower, down that happy trail, looking to strike gold. I lick my lips.
Josh grins at me. ‘What are you thinking, beautiful?’
I sweep my eyes over his big, golden body. So masculine. ‘I’m thinking I want to imprint your skin with my dental records.’
His eyes widen. ‘Wowzers. Someone’s hungry.’
‘Only hungry for you.’
He’s laid out before me like a big, manly feast. Mmm. His skin is warm; he’s relaxed from today’s sun and merriment and beer. He stretches in a leisurely fashion, but he doesn’t take his eyes off me.
I use my knee to nudge his thighs apart and settle between them. I take hold of his glorious erection, and lower my face to it.
‘Baby. You don’t have to.’
‘I didn’t have a hot dog today,’ I say conversationally as I run my fingers up and down his smooth, silky length, and he guffaws.
‘Holy fuck.’ His laughter quickly turns to a sharp inhale as I lick around his tip and take him in my mouth.
Josh. I love doing this so much. I love his taste, and the weight of his balls in my hand, and the responsiveness of his body to me here in this peaceful room, the muffled laughter and shouts from the party outside filtering through the windows.
I fall into a rhythm and his fingers brush my jaw, tuck my hair behind my ear. He growls a stream of dirty requests and observations as I suck, and I can feel he’s getting close when he grabs my upper arm.
‘Jesus, baby. I’m so close. I wanna save it. Come here.’
I edge up the bed, up his body, on my knees and look down at that face. That face I just want to devour.
So handsome.
So turned on.
So hungry.
‘Hi, down there.’ I give him a coy wave.
‘Hey, gorgeous. Come closer. I don’t bite.’ A wolfish grin. ‘Unless you want me to.’
He hooks his fingers around the backs of my knees and pulls me to him before his hands run firmly up my thighs, grabbing at my bum, then travelling further up and back around to my breasts.
The pressure of his fingers on my nipples delivers an instant bolt of heat to my groin, and I shuffle my knees wider.
‘Wider, beautiful. Open up for me. And hold on.’
And his hands are back on my bum again, pulling me down onto him as I open for him as much as I can, and I drop my forehead to the headboard and moan as Josh’s tongue explores the most sensitive parts of my body, lapping and circling and teasing and acting like he can’t get enough of me.
I grind down further against his face as the heavenly pressure builds.
He probably trusts I have no intention of going anywhere, because he releases my bum and moves his hands to my breasts and he kneads and rubs and pinches, and the combination of his magic fingers and his magic tongue sends me over the edge so I’m convulsing on top of Josh’s face, pressing my hand to my eyes and squeezing them shut as colours explode behind my closed lids.
I’m in a haze as Josh takes hold of my waist and flips me onto my back.
Pressing down on me. Kissing me hard, so I can taste myself.
And plunging inside me. No condom (I got myself on the pill pretty much as soon as I hit British land after Cannes).
Nothing between us. Just our flesh, sliding and pressing and brushing.
Our mouths desperately clashing. And the unmatchable feeling of having Josh fill me up, consume me, transport me in a way I’ve never had before him.
It may be Independence Day, but I’m feeling pretty damn co-dependent right now.
The T-shirt is right.
I love him.