14. Reece
Reece
T he car is too quiet.
The air inside the cabin feels thick, too hot from her body sitting just inches away from mine. I don’t look at her. If I do, I won’t be able to stop. She crosses her legs, and my peripheral vision catches the shift in the hem. Just a flash of thigh. Smooth. Pale. Bare.
I curl my fingers into a fist on my knee and press down. I’m unraveling.
Outside the tinted windows, Boston glows. Streetlights streak across her skin like spotlights, illuminating the curve of her jaw, the shimmer on her collarbone. I can see her reflection in the window… lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling with slow, measured breaths.
She’s pretending to be calm. She’s not. Neither am I. She shifts again. Her thigh brushes against mine.
I inhale sharply through my nose and turn my attention forward. Our driver says nothing from behind the wheel. He doesn’t flinch when Skye lets out the softest sigh, barely audible, but my cock twitches at the sound.
I glance over… Mistake.
Her head is tilted back slightly, eyes closed, lips parted like she’s seconds from saying my name in that voice—the one she used earlier when she talked about being undone, about being fucked by a man who loses control.
I shift in my seat, attempting to adjust myself. I’m painfully hard. Straining against my slacks like my body doesn’t give a fuck that we’re three feet from a stranger.
All I can think about is how tight she’d feel. How soft. How goddamn wet. And how she’ll sound when I finally sink into her.
The car turns onto the final block before the hotel. The traffic light ahead glows red.
Good. I need the delay. I need a second to remember who the hell I am. I slowly turn my head. She’s watching me now. Her eyes are wide, curious. Bold. She doesn’t blink. She doesn’t speak.
And fuck me, I want her to say it. I want her to push me over the edge with one more teasing line. I want her to give me a reason to tear into her the second we cross the threshold.
But she stays silent. So I break. I lean toward her just slightly, my voice low enough that only she can hear it.
“The second you get inside, go unlock your door,” I growl, “before I lose my fucking mind.”
She holds my gaze. Then smirks. It’s not coy, it’s confident. Like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. Like she knows I’m a man on the brink of being consumed by fire. And she’s the goddamn match.
The car pulls to a stop at the curb. The driver opens the door, and she slides out first. I follow, nodding once at our driver and slipping him a tip.
Then we’re walking. Side by side. Into the hotel. Across the gleaming marble lobby. Toward the elevator that might as well be the point of no return. The moment we’re inside, I press the button for the penthouse where our rooms are located just as another couple slides in before the doors close.
She stands beside me. Close… So fucking close I can feel her heat. I stare straight ahead, breathing like I’ve just run five miles. Her perfume is lighter tonight. Subtle. Floral, maybe. I want to bury my face in the crook of her neck and inhale it like oxygen.
The elevator climbs one floor. Two.
Her shoulder brushes mine. Not an accident. Three.
I flex my hand, roll my neck, force myself to stay still. Four.
Her fingers graze my thigh. That’s it. That’s all it takes. By the time the doors open another ten floors up, I’m already on fire.
She steps out first, hips swaying, heels clicking against the floor like the start of a countdown. I follow close behind.
The hallway is quiet. Dim. Our footsteps echo in sync. She stops in front of her door, digging for her key card. Her fingers fumble slightly, just enough that I catch the tremble in her hand.
She’s not as calm as she pretends to be. Good.
She slides the card into the lock. The light flashes red and she curses softly under her breath.
“Let me,” I say, stepping in.
My hand brushes hers as I take the card. Skin to skin. Fucking electric. I slide the card. The light turns green. Click.
The door swings open. She steps inside first and pauses.
She turns to look at me over her shoulder. Like an invitation. Like a dare.
So I take it… and step inside. And everything goes quiet. The door shuts behind me with a heavy finality. Like the start of a storm.
I take one step toward her.
Then another.
Her back hits the wall just inside the door, and I’m in front of her in half a heartbeat, caging her in with my arms, my hands braced on either side of her head, my mouth hovering just inches from hers.
Her chest rises, then falls. Her lips part. And I don’t wait. I crash into her like I’ve been holding back a lifetime.
Her gasp is muffled against my mouth. Her fingers curl into my shirt, dragging me closer, grinding her body against mine like she needs me inside her right now or she’ll die from the ache.
I kiss her hard. Deep. Filthy.
My hands slide down to her neck, shoulders, waist—until I find the curve of her ass and squeeze, pulling her up into me so she can feel exactly what she’s done to me.
She moans, soft and desperate.
I pull back just enough to whisper, “You like teasing your boss, sweetheart?”
Her eyes are glassy. Lips kiss-bruised. “You’re not my boss right now.”
“Damn right I’m not.”
My mouth is back on hers before she can say another word. Her kiss is wild, untamed and hungry. God, she tastes like wine and want and every fucking dream I haven’t let myself have in years.
My hands tighten on her ass as I drag her hips against mine. She gasps when she feels how hard I am. I don’t hold back. I grind into her, slow and deliberate, letting her feel every inch of what she’s about to get.
Her hands slide up my chest, fisting in my shirt. “Reece?—”
I bite her lower lip. Not hard. Just enough to make her gasp again. “You wanted to know what I missed?” I confess against her mouth. “It’s this.”
I reach down and tug her thigh up over my hip, pinning her to the wall.
“Missed having a woman melt for me,” I growl. “Missed the feel of soaking wet panties grinding against my cock because she’s so turned on she’s already weeping for me. Missed fucking control.”
Her breath catches, ragged and uneven.
“You’re soaked,” I say, dragging my fingers up the inside of her thigh until I find the edge of her panties. “All that confidence at dinner, all that attitude, and look at you. You’re trembling for me now.”
She grips my shoulders like she’s afraid her knees won’t hold.
“Do you want me to stop?” I ask, voice low and brutal. “Tell me now.”
She shakes her head.
“That’s not a word.”
“No,” she whispers. “Don’t stop.”
My fingers slide beneath her panties. Fuck, she’s drenched. I growl low in my throat, pushing two fingers into her, slow and deep.
Her head falls back against the wall with a thud.
“Oh my God?—”
“That’s right,” I rasp. “Say my fucking name.”
“Reece,” she gasps, rolling her hips. “Jesus, please?—”
“Please what?” I keep moving my fingers, curling them just enough to make her legs tremble. “You want to come like this? Pinned against a wall with my hand between your thighs?”
Her nails dig into my arms. I curl my fingers again and she cries out—soft and strangled and so fucking sexy I could come just from the sound.
“Or,” I say, voice rough now, “do you want to come on my cock, sweetheart? Wrapped around me while I fuck you so deep you forget where you are?”
She’s panting. Desperate.
“Yes,” she whimpers. “Yes, please—Reece, I need?—”
I pull my hand out in one controlled move, watching her fall apart from the loss. I lift my sticky fingers to my nose and inhale. “Fuck me, you smell like heaven.” I wrap my lips around my fingers, the taste of her pussy making my cock painfully hard.
When I open my eyes, she’s watching me with eyes wide. “You’ve never had a man lick your cum from his fingers before?” She shakes her head. “That’s a fucking shame because you taste like a fucking dream.”
Then I wrap an arm around her waist and lift her off the floor like she weighs nothing. Her legs lock around me instinctively, her heels digging into my lower back.
I carry her through the room, mouth on her neck, kissing, biting, licking.
“I’ve been good for too fucking long,” I growl against her skin. “You’re about to feel what fifteen years of restraint breaking at once feels like.”
I reach the bed, toss her down, and stare. Her dress is hitched up around her waist, her panties wet and ruined. Her lips are parted. Her hair is wild. And she looks up at me like I’m the only thing she’s ever wanted.
“Take it off,” I command, voice hoarse. “All of it.”
She doesn’t hesitate.
The dress slides off her shoulders, pooling at her waist. She lifts her hips and slips out of her panties next, then her bra.
Her nipples are hard. Her thighs slick. And her eyes—those fucking eyes—are on me like I’m the answer to every filthy prayer she’s ever whispered.
“Good girl,” I say, unbuttoning my shirt. “Now lie back and spread those legs. Show me where you want me to kiss you.”
She lies back across the crisp hotel sheets, legs parting for me like a fucking fantasy, like she’s been waiting her whole life for someone to take her exactly the way she deserves.
The soft lighting in the room casts her skin in gold and shadow.
Her breasts rise and fall with shallow, anticipatory breaths.
Her pussy is slick and swollen, glistening under the warm light.
I drop my shirt. Undo my belt. Slowly. Deliberately. Letting her watch me peel away the last layers of control. Her eyes track every movement. Her thighs shift slightly as I shove my pants down, cock springing free, thick, hard, aching for her.
She stares and bites her bottom lip. “You going to say something?” I murmur, fisting the base of my cock.
Her gaze flicks up to mine, electric. “Yeah,” she breathes. “You’re going to destroy me.”
I climb onto the bed, knees bracketing her hips, hand still stroking myself. “No,” I correct, lowering my mouth to her ear. “I’m going to worship you first.”