Chapter 14 #3
She half expected him to refuse, to argue, to stay focused on her pleasure out of sheer stubbornness.
If anyone could argue with their head between a woman’s thighs and two fingers swirling and spiraling inside her, it was this man.
But instead, he thrust the waistband of his briefs the rest of the way down and took his long, thick cock in his hand.
His eyes slammed shut and he groaned against her as he wrapped his fingers around it and began to stroke.
Ivy felt that groan in every single nerve ending, and she watched him as he touched himself faster, determined to join her as she flew over the edge, his tongue and fingers never losing their rhythm on her body, in her body.
“Oh god, oh shit, oh—” Any remaining words were stolen by the force of her orgasm.
It slammed into her and made her hips buck against Justin’s mouth as he drew wave after wave of overwhelming, ungovernable pleasure from her exhausted core.
She was wordless, but in that moment she was glad she couldn’t do anything but gasp and scream silently up at the ceiling.
Because yes, she learned, as his body jerked and shook between her legs, he did growl when he came.
“Holy shit,” she whispered into the silent hotel room, when Justin’s orgasm had subsided and he’d raised his head, chest heaving and his breath raspy and uneven.
In the half-darkness, he looked absolutely wrecked, his hair askew, his lips shining with her wetness.
She wanted to turn on all the lights so she could see it.
She wanted to wreck him again, wanted to be the one whose hand and mouth and body made him spasm and lose control like that. She wanted to hear that growl again.
As soon as she regained the ability to move.
“That was incredible.” he said, his voice a little shaky. He licked his lips. “Holy shit.”
Holy shit was right. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d come that hard, let alone twice in rapid succession.
“Agreed,” she sighed, and she smiled down at him. It was a nice change, being taller than him for once.
He looked down at his hand. “I should go clean up. But I don’t know if my legs are going to hold me up.”
Ivy laughed. “I can get you a tissue. I think my legs work.”
“It’s okay,” he said, getting up slowly. He headed for the bathroom and she heard the tap running.
When he returned a few minutes later, Ivy was sitting with her back against the headboard, her panties back on, pulse still racing.
Her legs felt like she’d just danced a three-act ballet, warm and liquid and totally spent, but the sight of Justin walking towards her in nothing but his briefs, all shifting muscle and sinew under sweat-damp skin that seemed to glow in the light seeping in from the street, made her long for a second wind. Third, really.
He sat on the still-made bed, close enough to reach for her but keeping his hands to himself.
“You doing okay?” he asked, watching her closely.
“Better than okay,” she smiled weakly. “You?”
“Better than okay,” he agreed. “Do you need anything? Water?”
“You’re in my room, I should be the one offering you refreshments.”
“Yeah, but you look so very worn out,” he said, unable to keep the self-satisfaction out of his voice, or off his face.
God, that smile. The muscles were one thing, and the hands and tongue were clearly in a talent class all their own.
But that smile was ruinous. Ivy couldn’t help thinking of all the times he’d scowled at her, making sure she knew she wasn’t welcome, that he could barely tolerate her presence, when all this time he had that smile up his sleeve.
And now she got to see it. Here, alone in her hotel room, both of them mostly naked.
“Proud of yourself, are you?” She arched an eyebrow.
“Should I be?” He tipped his head cockily, like he damn well knew the answer was a resounding, moaned, breathy yes.
Ivy rolled her eyes in answer, but the motion felt like work. Her entire body was exhausted by what they’d just done.
“Who’s incorrigible now?” she asked sardonically.
“Nah, incorrigible is giving you a few minutes to rest and then going again.” He grinned, and she shook her head with a laugh.
“I can’t. I need to sleep.”
Justin shrugged. He didn’t look disappointed. He looked like he needed the sleep, too—unlike her, he’d danced a ballet earlier tonight. “There’s always tomorrow.”
Ivy hoped he didn’t hear her surprised, hopeful little intake of breath. “Is there?”
“Do you want there to be?” He was watching her intently again, like he’d done across the table at the jazz club. Like he didn’t need a notebook to remember everything about her.
“Yes.” She was saying that word around him a lot lately.
“Well then, Kurt, I should probably let you sleep. You probably have a long day of sightseeing planned, and I have a long night in mind.”
She smiled sleepily as he stood and looked down at her. She pulled back the covers and slid underneath them, drowsiness already creeping over her.
Ivy watched as Justin picked up his clothes, then collected hers and folded them and set them on the desk. He opened the adjoining door and walked through it, then turned around and leaned on the doorjamb.
“So long, farewell,” he said, in a slightly sing-songy voice.
“Auf Wiedersehen, good night.” She smiled through a yawn.
“I hate to go and leave this pretty sight.” He didn’t sing this time. He said it softly, like it wasn’t a lyric, but just the truth, and Ivy felt the insane urge to tell him to come join her under the covers.
“I don’t remember what comes next,” she said instead.
“Choreography, I think.”
“Mmm. Not going to do that. So very worn out .” She sensed, rather than saw, the look of triumph that crossed his face at her words. “Hey, Justin?”
“Yes, Ivy?” His voice was tender, low and scratchy with fatigue, and the intimate sound crawled under her skin. Curled up and settled there, like a cat in a shaft of sunlight.
“Leave the door unlocked?”
The last thing she saw before sleep pulled her under was Justin disappearing across the threshold into his room, leaving the adjoining door ajar.