Chapter 4
FOUR
Did I get us a room in a hotel with a pickleball court, of all things? Yes, yes, I did.
What’s more surprising is that I’m equally looking forward to her face in the morning when I challenge her to a match as I am to having her in my bed tonight.
She drops to her knees the second the hotel door clicks shut. Her pupils are so blown, the brown is barely there when she looks up at me through dark lashes. Then she leans in, kissing a slow line along my cock, nuzzling it through my slacks.
“Fuck, Summer,” I groan.
She takes it as the invitation it is. My belt is undone, and my zipper tugged down before I catch my next breath, pants pooling at my ankles.
My hissed inhale is loud in my ears as she cups me over my boxer-briefs.
She licks up my length and sucks lightly at the head, wet heat seeping through the fabric, sending my head lolling back against the door.
I look down as she hooks her fingers in my waistband and drags my boxer-briefs down to join my pants. I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. And I don’t want to.
But, fuck, do I want to kiss her again.
It’s not usually something I do. Easier to keep lines clear without the added layer of intimacy. Jesus, I can’t remember the last time I kissed a woman. Not properly. Not like this. But I’m already halfway addicted to Summer’s mouth.
She lays a hand on my stomach, holding up the tail of my shirt as she licks up my length. This time, I feel every wet, hot inch. When she reaches the tip, she takes me into her mouth and all the way to the back of her throat without preamble.
“Fuck,” I practically shout, the word bouncing off the walls of the narrow entryway. I can’t say I care much about waking the other guests.
She takes me in again, somehow deeper, and I’m helpless to do anything but tighten my grip on the doorknob.
She draws back slowly, eyes locked on mine—glassy and lust-filled. And something else.
Where did this woman come from?
Not for the first time tonight, I wonder. And for reasons that have nothing to do with how well she’s sucking my cock.
The way she looks at me, like she sees parts of me I’m not sure exist anymore, makes my chest tight. Is that trust? It’s been so long since I’ve seen it in a woman’s eyes, I barely recognize it. Don’t know what to do with it.
It’s foolish of her to trust me with something I might break.
But I’m not sure I want to let it go, either.
Fuck. I need to kiss her again.
I reach down and pull her up. As soon as she’s close enough, I slam my lips to hers.
Our mouths part only so I can tug her sweater over her head. She’s wearing a tangerine bra. Of course she is. It’s so perfectly her. Unexpected and bright and exactly what I didn’t know I needed.
My lips tip up when hers find mine again. Our tongues slide against one another before I ease back to kiss her neck, impatient to get to that sheer fabric and the peaked nipples visible through it.
Her sounds of pleasure vibrate against my mouth, and I kiss the spot again, just to hear them.
I’m practically folded in half by the time I reach her breasts, so I grab her thighs and haul her up. She wraps her legs around my waist with a surprised squeal, arms flying to my shoulders.
I nearly trip over my own feet, getting us to the bed, but I manage to shuffle us there instead of eating shit on the carpet. I lay her on the mattress, and for a second, I just stand there, taking in the sight of her against the white sheets.
I reach for her ankle. My hand around the heel of a crimson cowboy boot, my other palm gliding up the curve of her calf as I slip it off. Then I repeat the same slow drag with the other.
Her jeans are next. I pop the button, pull the zipper down, and peel them off.
A barely there tangerine thong matches the bra. I rub a hand over the stubble on my jaw, my mouth watering at the sight of her stretched out on the bed.
I wish it was my own, not a hotel bed I’ll never see again.
Yet another thought I’ve never had during a hookup.
Her hand skims her side, and my gaze follows the curve of her body back up to her face. It’s a struggle to decide what I want to look at most.
“Like what you see?” she drawls.
“You could say that,” I answer, because love doesn’t seem like a word I should be throwing around on night one with someone, even if it’s only about her body. Even if it’s the first word that comes to mind.
I toe off my shoes and shed the rest of my clothes. When I crawl onto the bed, her legs part for me without hesitation. I brace a hand near her ribs, my gaze roaming over her face.
“You’re gorgeous,” I murmur, giving her more of my weight as I lower myself and kiss her nipple through the tangerine fabric. “I love this.”
So much for leaving that four-letter word out of this.
I switch to her other breast, flicking my tongue over the mesh. “It’s very you.”
I don’t even know her that well, do I? But I know it’s true.
“Bright and obnoxious?”
“Bright and vibrant.”
Her lips curve, and I kiss my way down her body: softly over her sternum, a playful nip at her rib, tongue dipping into her belly button.
Her back arches, and she gasps, hips wriggling like she can’t stay still.
“Can I?” I press a kiss to the front of her panties.
“Yes, please,” she breathes, the words rushing out.
I chuckle against her skin. “So polite.”
She lifts her hips and sucks in a sharp breath as I hook my fingers under the sides of her thong and hitch them up, putting pressure exactly where she needs it, before peeling them off.
I’m torn between diving in and drawing this out. I choose the latter. For now.
I kiss the inside of one thigh, then the other, dragging my tongue along the sensitive skin where her thigh meets her center. The smell of her hits me, and my brain short-circuits. She’s driving me insane.
My tongue is flat when I finally lick from her entrance to her clit. I do it again. And again. Until she’s panting, and her hips move restlessly against my mouth.
I should be running my usual playbook: efficient, focused on the finish line. Instead, I want to take my time, learn her, and spend hours right here.
When I look up, our gazes connect. She’s propped on one elbow, knuckles white where her other hand grips her outer thigh. As if she reads it in my expression, she moves that hand to tangle in my hair.
She bites her bottom lip as I circle her entrance with my tongue, teasing, then dip inside while my thumb presses against her clit.
Her head falls back onto the pillow, and a keening whine spills from her lips.
I want more of her sounds. All of them.
“Miles,” she rasps.
I replace my tongue with two fingers, sliding them inside her, stroking the spot that makes her hips jerk, as I kiss her thigh softly.
“Hmm?” My mouth drags against her skin.
“That feels so—” Her words break off on a sharp inhale. “You’re so good at this.”
Her walls clench around my fingers, and my hips press into the mattress without my permission.
“What do you need, honey?” The endearment slips out again. Never in my life have I used one with someone I’ve just met.
“Your mouth. On me. Now.”
I keep my fingers moving as I bring her clit to my mouth and suck, matching the rhythm.
“Holy Mother of— Don’t you dare stop,” she pants.
Wouldn’t dream of it.
“You’re going to make me come.”
That’s my one and only goal.
She clamps down on my fingers, and then she shatters, spasming around me, fluttering against my tongue. Her upper body lifts and folds as she buries her face in a pillow, small broken sounds spilling out that I’ll be replaying in my head for the foreseeable future.
I’m so close to the edge myself, I’m impressed I haven’t painted the bed already.
“Come up here,” she murmurs.
I crawl over her body and settle between her legs, bracing my weight on my forearms as she kisses me lazily. Her tongue rolls against mine, tasting herself, and she shivers.
When I pull back, she says the last thing I expect.
“I always make myself come three times.”
A surprised laugh bursts out of me. “Is that a request or a challenge?”
Her lips purse, eyes glinting. “I guess… both?”
“I’ve got you.” I kiss her quickly. “How would you like your next orgasm delivered?” I try to say it with a straight face, but fail halfway through.
“On your cock.”
That wipes the smile right off.
I groan into her neck. “You’re going to kill me.”
“I hope not. You’ve got work to do,” she teases.
“Will you ride me?”
“Is this some kind of cowgirl fantasy? Because I may sing country music, but I’m not that much of a cowgirl.”
“No, it’s an ‘I want to see your tits bounce in this’ fantasy,” I deadpan, snapping the strap of her bra gently.
She tips her head back with a laugh.
I want another of those as much as I want to make her come again. And again.
I roll us, catching her around the waist and flipping us, so she’s straddling my lap.
Fuck. I can’t wait to feel her wrapped around me.
She shimmies down my thighs and takes me in hand, running the head of my cock through her wetness. Another shiver runs through her as she presses it against her clit, using me, and the sight scrambles my brain. It might be the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.
“Do you have a condom?” she asks.
How the fuck did I forget about that? I never forget. I haven’t had sex without one in years, not since my ex.
“Shit. Yeah. In my wallet.”
She leans over me to grab it before I can, rooting through the discarded pile of clothes. Then she resumes her position, tearing the foil and handing the condom to me.
She plucks something else from my wallet as I work, holding it up to the light. My license.
“You had longer hair.”
“Yep. Cut it a few months ago.”
Her brows furrow. “Maybe that’s why I didn’t remember you.”
“Or maybe because we only met once, briefly.”
She looks back down at me, eyes softening. “I would’ve remembered you, Miles.”
My chest does that weird thing where it feels both too big and too small at the same time.
I pull her down for another kiss and toss the wallet onto the floor. Our lips connect, and the feeling only gets worse. That, or it’s just all the blood in my body is currently in my dick.
I prop a pillow behind my shoulders and ease her up my torso until her tangerine-covered tits are in my face. I bring her nipple to my mouth, sucking through the fabric, then push the cup aside to taste her skin. I’m sure I’m losing my mind, but she even tastes sweet. Citrus and honey.
My hips thrust up, my cock sliding through her wetness.
“Can you come like this?” I ask, grabbing her ass with both hands and guiding her over me. “Because the odds of me coming as soon as I’m inside you are high, and that won’t do for my three-orgasm quota.”
“Yes.”
I hiss as she increases the pressure and starts to move, grinding down while I suck her nipple into my mouth.
She folds over me, fingers digging into my hair, as she comes again, trembling. Her hair sticks to her forehead as she eases back, one hand wrapping around my length to hold me steady.
I grip her hips as she lowers onto me, torturously slow.
I run through my usual gamut of unsexy thoughts to calm myself down, but I can’t hold onto any of them. My focus is locked on the woman in my lap, who I didn’t see coming and, right now, never want to look away from.
Her cheeks are flushed, stubble burns on her breasts, her skin sticky with sweat.
Perfect.
So goddamn perfect.
When she’s fully seated, she clenches, and my eyes slam shut so hard I see stars. She shows no mercy as she moves, lifting and sinking, taking me to the hilt each time. She’s so tight. This feels too good.
“You’re missing the show,” she says, voice low.
My eyes snap open.
And fuck.
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.