Chapter 3 #2
The invasive onslaught of his tongue and lips against my clit finally send me tumbling over the edge. The most satisfying orgasm I’ve had in months rips through me.
My scream rents through the air.
I’m not conscious of the way my hands drop from the window, one falling onto the back of Travis’ head. My fingers tighten into the curly strands of his sandy brown hair.
“Fuck,” Travis says as he rises to his full height, panting almost as much as I am. “You taste even better than I predicted.”
I don’t get a chance to respond when he scoops me up into his arms and carries me to the bedroom.
“But now I have to show you what happens when you fail to follow my directions.”
Travis is determined to make me apologize for dropping my hands from that damn window.
“Shit!” I curse when he digs his fingers into my hips and drills into me from behind.
One of his hands presses against the back of my head, trapping me against the bed while he has my ass high in the air, his thick dick digging into my pussy like he’s trying to imprint his name on it.
Truly face-down-ass-up style.
“Ask me, Alyssia. Beg me for it.” He pumps into me again.
My brain scrambles. Words become unintelligible, and the only sounds I can make out are the sopping wet sounds of our bodies coming together as he pounds into me.
“I … fuuuck!” I curse when he hits my G-spot again. My body becomes engulfed in a convulsion so deep that my spine damn near caves in.
“I can’t hear you.” He purposefully punches his hips into me with each word.
I tighten my eyelids and attempt to use my hands to push my body up, but Travis is quicker.
Before I know what’s happening, both of his freakishly strong hands fold around my wrists and bring my arms around to my back, keeping them there.
Not once while he’s doing this do his hips break from their rhythm in and out of my channel. His movements have the entire bed rocking, my breasts swaying, sending tingles to my hardened nipples as they brush against the bedsheets.
I’m on the edge and I know I won’t be able to take much more of this.
“All you have to do is ask,” he taunts.
Refusing to give in to his taunting, I tighten my lips to keep the question from breaking free.
He wants me to plead for him to make me come, for a third time tonight, mind you. I won’t do it.
I don’t beg.
“Okay,” he grunts out.
At the sound of that, alarm should have me second-guessing my decision not to surrender.
But I’m a glutton for punishment.
Or a good dicking down.
The next thing I know, Travis hooks his arm underneath one of my knees and moves it until the bottom of my foot presses against the bed. Now he has me split open with one knee down and the other in a figure four position.
I scream out when he sinks inside of me deeper than I thought possible.
He’s determined to give me a heart attack.
I knew I shouldn’t have given it up over some damn pasta and the last piece of calamari.
“Fuck, Travis!” I pant out.
“Keep calling my name like that and I’m never letting you go, baby.”
I cry out again, but this time I can’t tell if it’s from his words or the way he’s just hit my G-spot again. Possibly both.
I know he’s just talking in the heat of the moment, but I’ll be damned if his words don’t have my pussy fluttering.
Common sense is replaced by the moans spilling from my lips, the caress of Travis’ breath against my sweaty skin, and rippling sensations of pleasure that fill me with each downstroke.
“This pussy is so fucking good. Do you know that?”
God, his voice.
It’s a farce. It has to be. But why does he sound like my sex is the only one he ever wants to be inside of again?
Worse, why does that thought have liquid heat gushing from the very core he’s still pummeling?
“Travis, oh shit,” I call out. “Make me come. Please. Make me come!”
“Fuck, exactly, baby! I know what you need.”
And he does.
He angles his hips just right and applies the exact amount of pressure against my clit to have me screaming down the walls of this suite.
I don’t know how long or how loud I call out, my orgasm having its way with me. But by the time I’m done, my voice is hoarse, throat is dry, and every muscle in my body is weak.
So spent, in fact, that if it weren’t for Travis’ arms and hands supporting me, I’d collapse to the bed like a boneless heap.
Instead, Travis steadies me, positioning our bodies so that I float down to his chest soft as a feather as he lays back against the pillows.
We’re breathless, glistening with sweat, and utterly satiated.
Though his breathing is heavier than normal, the rhythm of his heartbeat against my cheek doesn’t appear elevated. Nowhere near as rapid as mine.
“Breathe, baby,” he coaches.
I follow the sound of his voice until my breathing stabilizes. Thank God for my three days a week workout sessions. Without it I’m not sure I could keep up with this man.
I run the tip of my pointer finger down the line of muscle that creates a six pack. My smile forms when they ripple beneath my touch.
A sigh parts me when Travis begins tracing circles over my shoulder.
“You like roses.”
My eyes, that I didn’t realize started to close, pop open. I sit up, dislodging his hand from the rose tattoo that covers three quarters of my left shoulder. For a beat, I wonder if he felt the jagged skin beneath the rose.
“I should get going,” I say, beginning to look around for my clothing.
He shakes his head, surprising me. “The night is still young.” His hand makes its way to my hip, squeezing. “And I’m not done with you.”
The promise in his voice already has my body heating up for more.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
The glint in his eyes can only be described in one way … wicked.
But instead of taking heed of the danger in his eyes and immediately getting up to leave, I lean back against the bed, making it clear I want more of what he has to offer.
As soon as my head hits the pillow, though, sleepiness overtakes me. My eyelids become weights against my eyes.
My eyes fall closed on their own accord.
“I won’t sleep long,” I mumble. My cheek tingles when he brushes his lips against it.
“I’ll wake you up.”
I crack one eyelid when the bed dips. Travis climbs out of the bed.
“I’ll let you sleep for a while, but you and I are far from finished.” He squeezes my ass, pulling a small smirk from me.
A slight tremor courses through me as he drags his finger down my ass along my leg, reaching my toes.
“Hey,” he calls.
I peer over at him.
“What do you know? You don’t have six toes.” He squeezes my pinky toe.
I watch for a few more seconds as Travis saunters into the bathroom.
The last thing I remember before drifting off into a dreamless sleep is watching the perfectly rounded ass disappearing into the bathroom.
Even his ass is beautiful.
Hours later, I awaken to sunlight streaming through the bedroom’s curtains. When I look to Travis’ side of the bed it’s empty. For a brief moment, I wonder if last night was a dream.
But Travis is definitely real.
The spicy, masculine scent of him lingers on everything in this bed, including my skin.
Not to mention the soreness between my legs.
That, and the memories from the two, no three, or was it four rounds we engaged in last night?
At some point I lost count of the many, many orgasms he showered upon my body.
“Travis?” I call out.
Nothing.
I try a second time, and once again, my answer is silence. My chest tightens with something dark, reminding me of the carefully constructed wall I keep around my heart.
It’s there for a reason.
“This is why I don’t date good-looking guys,” I mumble as I climb, read: stumble, out of the bed.
Then I admonish myself for being annoyed. We said it was only a one-night thing. He probably left, hoping I’ll be gone before he returns.
I have no problem making that happen.
On legs that I have to coach into moving, and a body that feels as if it’s been put through the washing machine, I force myself to search for my clothing. My bra hangs off of an armchair by the window, while my panties lay in a tangled mess on the carpet at the foot of the bed.
One boot sits in the middle of the suite’s living room while the other somehow managed to find its way underneath the couch. Lastly, my dress, thankfully, remains intact and laid neatly across the back of the suite’s couch.
I get dressed, save for my ruined panties, and take one final sweep of the suite with my gaze before heading for the door. If Travis couldn’t be so much as bothered to leave a note, there’s obviously no need for me to do so.
Good riddance.