Chapter Ten
CASH
ISHOULDN’T BE here.
I don’t do this.
But here I am, knocking on her door, knuckles rapping too loud in the quiet hallway, hoping—praying—she answers it.
The plate of cinnamon buns trembles in my hand—fucking trembles.
With what? Nerves? Excitement? Fear?
Or all three bundled into one head-spinning little knot in my chest, I’ve never experienced before.
Either way, I’m standing here frozen, in a ball of uncertainty and sticky glaze sliding against my thumb.
The door opens.
She hasn’t changed. She’s still wearing that T-shirt clinging to the curve of her breasts. Cotton soft. Worn thin. Hasn’t brushed the damp tangled hair above her ear.
And damn, if it isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Hey.” She half leans against the frame, shoulder first, like holding herself is an effort.
“Hey.”
Neither of us moves for a long second.
A long, long second.
The air between us is electric, charged, buzzing in my ears, like the moment before a storm breaks.
“I brought cinnamon buns.”
She glances down at the plate, lashes sweeping her silly skin.
When her eyes meet mine, my grip tightens on the plate, knuckles whitening. I can barely keep my hands to myself. I can barely keep my hands to myself.
“You can set them there.” She casually points at the nightstand, barely moving her arm and clutching the door as she slides it open enough for me to slip inside.
I set the plate on the nightstand, and when I turn to face her, she’s biting on her lower lip.
“Is that the only reason you came?”
I shake my head, taking a single step toward her. “I have an ulterior motive.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes.” Another step. Heat prickling along my skin.
“Care to tell me?”
“I’d rather show you.” I grip the doorframe, hovering over her. “Do you want me to show you?”
Her head lifts, eyes dragging to mine, dark with need. “Yes.”
That single word is all I need. I slam the door shut, heart hammering, pulse spiking, and my arm catches her waist.
SHAY
THE SECOND THE door swung open, the heat of him slammed into me.
Warm. Solid. All him.
I was already throbbing when I saw him in the hallway, now his hand snakes around the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair.
I swear I’m going to come right here.
My body surges up, mouth crashing against his. His lips are soft, but his kiss is anything but gentle. It’s all teeth and breath and urgency. His tongue slides into my mouth like he’s been starving for me. His groan vibrates through my entire body.
He presses me flat against the inside of the door as it clicks shut behind us.
I’m not sure how I move. My legs touch the floor, but they’re useless. His hands grip my waist, holding me, guiding me, partially lifting me. His fingers sink into the flesh of my hips, pulling me tighter against his bare chest. My hands fly to his shoulders.
He tastes like whiskey and something richer—warm sugar from the cinnamon buns.
It’s intoxicating.
He’s intoxicating.
Pressed against a wall by this beast of a man, I’m dizzy with it.
His thigh slides between mine, and bloody hell, the pressure. I grind down against it. The friction is unbearable. My nipples are painfully hard, pressing against the fabric of my bra.
A desperate sound rips from my throat.
He breaks the kiss just long enough to murmur against my lips, “Fuck, baby, slow down—”
My lips brush his jaw, and his stubble scrapes against my skin.
“No.” The word comes out breathless—raw and needy.
I don’t want it to be slow.
I don’t need slow.
I’ve been wound tight for what feels like hours. Since he first touched me. And those damn videos twisted me tighter and tighter.
Part of me can’t even believe he’s here. But I feel him—hard and thick against my stomach.
I’m not waiting another second.
My hands drop between us, fingers fumbling at his belt.
Quick. Fast. Rushed. Hungry.
All so much that my fingers are clumsy.
The metallic clink of the buckle echoes, followed by the sharp hiss of his zipper.
He groans, forehead dropping to mine. His eyes burn into me, dark and hungry.
“Shay, let me make sure you’re heated for me.”
“I’m ready.” My voice is raw. “Skip the performance, stud muffin.”
He chuckles, warm breath puffing across my skin, sending shivers down my spine.
“I’m already there.” I lean in and lick his jaw. “Wet,” I say in his ear. “Dripping for you.”
“Fuck.” His hands slide down to grip my thighs, lifting me like I weigh nothing.
My legs wrap around his waist instinctively. The fabric of my jogging pants is the only barrier between us.
His forehead presses to mine. “Slow,” he grunts, breath hot and ragged.
I whimper, my head falling back against the wood.
His fingers l brush, skim, and caress my skin as he slides my top up and over my head.
“Beautiful.”
He kisses his way down my chest. Hot, wet, demanding kisses. I feel every last one of them.
His free hand yanks at the cups of my bra, tugging them down until my breasts spill free into the cool air.
My nipples pebble even harder, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his mouth when he closes his lips around one.
“Cash—” His name turns into a moan when his tongue flicks over my sensitive peak before he bites down just enough to make me gasp.
My core throbs, aching, begging for a release that coils deep in my tight belly.
I’m trying to hold back—to make it last.
But I’ve just spent a ridiculous amount of time watching this very man, this very body, do things I only imagined.
Cash switches to my other breast, lavishing it with the same heated attention. The sensations spark all over again, electric and relentless.
Before I can even catch my breath, he’s dropping to his knees in front of me. The sight of him between my legs makes my stomach flutter and my pulse spike.
His dark eyes lock on mine as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my jogging pants.
My hands cover his. “I’ll crumble.” My voice is ragged. “If you touch me down there, I’ll come apart.”
“I’m okay with that.” He smirks. “In fact, I’d enjoy it.”
“I want you inside me.” I grab his face, forcing him up to me.
His eyes swallow me whole. His lips are wet and soft.
“I want you. Right the fuck now.”
His jaw clenches, but I see the moment he snaps.
His hands are on my ass, squeezing hard enough to bruise, and then he spins us. I slam against the wall beside the door, and the hanging pictures rattle. The impact steals my breath, but I don’t care. I’m too busy tearing at his belt. My fingers fumble with the buckle.
He tries to slow me down, his hand covering mine, but I bat him away and shove his jeans and briefs just enough to free his cock. It springs out, thick and heavy, pulsing in anticipation.
He groans when I wrap my fingers around him. I stroke once. Twice. My thumb swipes over the slit.
His hips jerk, and his cock twitches in my grip.
“Shay—”
I don’t let him finish. I hook my fingers into the waistband of my pants and panties and shimmy them down my hips.
His gaze drops between us, darkening as he drinks me in, eyes roaming every inch.
“You’re beautiful.”
I lick my lips. “And wet.”
“Condom.” He digs into his pants and frees his wallet.
He slides out a condom and tosses his wallet to the floor, where he kicks off the remainder of his clothes.
He tears the packet open with his teeth. The sound is obscene, brutal, and sexy.
He watches me with that same intensity he bakes with. A flicker of hunger in his heavy-lidded eyes. A promise that goes far beyond words.
His fingers are steady as he rolls the condom down his length. I don’t miss the way his biceps flex, or the hitch of his breath as he strokes once, twice, adjusting the latex.
My mouth waters. I want to drop to my knees. I want to taste him.
But before I can move, his hands are on me again, gripping my bare ass, lifting me effortlessly. The head of his cock presses against my entrance. My thighs lock around his hips.
“Look at you.” His voice is dark with approval. “So eager.”
He has no idea.
Sex with a stranger isn’t my thing, but this consuming heat makes me question why I haven’t done it sooner.
I rock my hips, trying to take him in. But he pulls back just enough to deny me.
“Not yet,” he growls.
What? Not yet?
Yes. Right fucking now.
His fingers slide through my wetness with a groan.
His groan?My groan?
I’m not sure, but my body melts, trembling, slick, desperate, and ready.
“You’re perfect.” His thumb circles my clit.
He’s perfect.
His fingers are perfect.
This moment is perfect.
My hips jerk. My nails dig into his shoulders as pleasure spikes through me.
“So wet. So tight.”
I can only moan in response. My head falls back against the door, pressing into the cold wood, as he works me, his fingers slick with my arousal.
Two of them press inside me, stretching me. I cry out, my inner walls clenching greedily around him.
“You like that, baby?” His lips brush my ear.
“Yes,” I gasp. “God, yes.”
His chuckle is dark and satisfied. “Good. Because you’re gonna love this even more.”
His fingers slide free, and this time, he doesn’t tease.
This time, he pushes in.
I cry out as he fills me, inch by slow inch.
He’s big—thicker than his fingers. He stretches me in a way that borders on pain, and it’s electric.
We both groan this time. Raw, guttural, and inescapable.
“Fuck, you feel—” His voice breaks as his hips roll into me, driving him deeper. “So good.”
I can’t form words. I whimper, shivering in response.
He pulls back—just a little—then drives into me with a force that steals my breath.
I moan, my hands flying to his hair. I grip the strands as I meet his thrusts, rocking into him.
“Harder,” I beg. “Please, harder.”
His cock twitches inside me. “You’re greedy for it, aren’t you?”
“Yes!” I cry. “I want it. I want you.”
His pace picks up. His thrusts are sharper, deeper, harder. The picture frames continue to rattle beside us with every hit.
My orgasm builds, coiling tight in my belly. My pussy clenches around him with every thrust.
I tip my head back against the wall.
His thrusts are harder.
Faster.
This isn’t some sweet lovemaking session. It’s raw, hot, and brutal.
His mouth is on my neck. His teeth graze my pulse point before he sucks hard.
I cry out.
He growls against my skin. Low, primal, intoxicating.
His grip on my hip tightens.
“You’re already close, aren’t you?” His voice rumbles dark and hot against my ear.
“Yes,” I gasp, my nails dragging down his scalp. “Yes, I—fuck, harder.”
He obeys. His next thrust hits that spot deep inside me that makes my vision whites out.
I scream.
Holy shit, I scream.
My nails score his shoulders, my body trembling.
He does it again.
And again.
Each snap of his hips sends me spiraling higher beyond control.
“Come for me.” His lips crash back onto mine.
His tongue invades my mouth, matching the thrust of his cock, and it’s too much—it’s everything.
I shatter.
Pleasure riots through me. My pussy clamps down around him as wave after wave of my orgasm crashes over me.
He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow. He fucks me through it, drawing out every last tremor.
“I’m right with you.” He buries his face in my neck, breath hot and ragged against my skin.
Then his breath breaks, and he tenses. He surges once, twice, before coming hard.
For a long moment, we stay like this. Me pinned to the door and both of us panting and trembling.
His cock is still buried inside me, twitching with the last waves of his orgasm.
It gives me a second to gather my thoughts.
Bloody hell, this is the best sex I’ve ever had.
I mean ever.
I’ve never come so quickly, so hard—so intense.
My head still rests against the wall, back pressed against the rough, embossed floral wallpaper that burns against my skin.
“That was a pretty good next time.” His mouth finds my throat, teeth grazing.
My lips part as I drag in another shuddering breath, ending in a half-chuckle. “Just good?”
“Okay—really good.”
“Uh-huh.” His mouth presses my neck. “Right now? I’m really enjoying this part.”
I lift my head to watch him. “Oh yeah?”
My hands find his shoulders, resting there as my fingers play with the hair at the back of his scalp.
“Which part?”
He smirks against my skin, stubble scraping my collarbone. “The part where you’re still close.”
He continues to kiss his way toward my breast. His tongue flicks my nipple with his, and it shoots straight to my core.
“I really like this.” His mouth covers my nipple, and I gasp.
The moment is short-lived. A knock on the door slices through our space.
Not just a knock.
A rap.
Sharp.
Authoritative.
Followed by the sweet elderly voice of one of our hostesses.
“Hello, dears!” Faye’s voice is muffled, but clear.
“Just checking in to see if you need anything. Open up.”