29 | Melina
Melina
I feel very petite and ladylike sitting between pillows on this giant, fluffy duvet. My mind races with the endless possibilities the space could be used for.
When Taylor tries to crawl on the bed, I push his forehead back with my index finger. “Nope. Pants off, too. You’re not allowed up until then.”
He straightens. “More rules?”
“I didn’t think you were shy.”
Yeah, that got him taking off his belt.
“You’re so predictable.”
“Am I?” he asks, dropping the leather to the floor.
Instead of getting rid of his pants, Taylor takes a drink from the water on the nightstand. Then, against all orders, he climbs onto the bed anyway. But who am I to complain? I finally get to run my hands all over that fantastic chest of his.
Taylor claims me with a kiss to my lower sternum. His lips are oddly cold yet refreshing. Must be bad circulation. He reaches behind me and gives the clasp of my bra a solid tug before it releases.
One hand? I’m used to guys fumbling around, then getting impatient and unclipping the damn thing myself. I help him slide it off my arm, then hurry my grip back to his shoulders. As his mouth wanders up my chest, his lips get colder and...colder?
Oh.
Ice. Fucking ice.
“What kind of porn are yo- ooh that feels nice. ”
I guess I’m just going to let this happen. I close my eyes and focus on the sizzle of it melting against my hot skin. Goosebumps cover my body as he glides between my breasts towards my collarbone. I squirm when he reaches my nape.
He pulls back. “I’ll try to be less predictable from now on.” His speech is a bit impaired with the ice in his mouth. Something about that drives me insane in the best way possible.
He spits the cube back into the glass.
“Ice, huh?” I ask as he laps up his mess. “Where’d you learn that? Summer camp?”
His nose air tickles my neck. “I have lots of tricks up my sleeve.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
Taylor descends. He hooks his pinky fingers around my panties.
His cool signet ring grazes my skin. After kissing my inner thigh, he takes his sweet ass time sliding the lace down my legs.
My breathing gets heavier as his tongue moves closer and closer.
He enters just after he pulls the fabric off my feet.
I try to keep my expletives to a minimum as I’m tasted, savored, and devoured.
The bed sheets become less satisfying to grip, so I thread my fingers into his silky soft hair.
God, I love his hair. I need to ask what shampoo he uses. Not now, of course.
I twitch when he hits a sensitive spot.
Taylor stops and looks up at me with wicked eyes. “Where do you want me?”
“Guess, first.” I want to be surprised.
He swaps his mouth for fingers, first one, then three— wait , what happened to two?
Did my foggy sex brain miss it? Who knows?
Time and space become unimportant as Taylor circles my clit.
He changes directions every once in a while with graceful movements, teasing, taunting, like he knows going slow can be just as good as going fast. I can’t focus on all the different ways in which he’s touching me. It all blurs into a single throb.
When he finds my G-spot, the only thing I’m able to utter is, “Please.”
He releases me and lets out a sinful laugh. “Begging already?”
Struggling to keep my eyes open, I prepare myself to come face to face with Taylor’s rock-hard and throbbing... pants.
I jerk my head up. “What the hell are these still doing here?”
“Jeez, Melina,” he says through a chuckle. He seems surprised by my tone. “You’re just so fucking gorgeous. I got distracted.”
The way he calls me gorgeous is scientific, like it’s a fact he’s proven and peer-edited.
I tug at the stupid polyester-cotton blend that prevents me from seeing him fully.
Pants, what a dumb invention. He grabs something from his pocket before taking his clothes off the rest of the way.
I smile dorkily at his nakedness. When contraceptive appears in his hand, he rips the foil with his teeth like an animal.
“You brought a condom?” I ask. “I didn’t know you were hoping for some. What happened to the good Catholic boy you were telling me about?”
“I have royal sperm, Melina. Being extremely careful is part of the job.” The corner of the wrapper lands on my chest. “And I am Catholic. I’m really into drawing out ceremony for as long as possible until you just can’t take it any longer.”
“You did not just say the word ‘sperm’,” I mutter. Thankfully, I’m on the pill. I don’t feel like being impregnated with the future sovereign of St. Claire right now.
“Brave of you to roll your eyes at me in this position,” he scolds.
I love it when he scolds me. Though his air of dominance is ruined when he leans into my ear and sheepishly asks, “Did you wear those panties for me?”
I’d rather die than give him the satisfaction.
“Women don’t wear lingerie for men, they wear it for themselves.”
And occasionally they wear it so themselves can look nice for men.
Okay yeah. I did bring my nice fuck-me lingerie set stateside, but it was only for a break-in-case-of-emergency situation. Who knows? I could have met a nice American boy.
I’m lying to myself, aren’t I?
Taylor starts with the condom until I steal it from him. “No, I have to do it.”
“Very bossy,” he says as I roll it on him.
I give him a few lazy strokes just to make sure my hands can confirm what my eyes see. Taylor is, in fact, big. Maybe I could write a dirty limerick about it on the jet.
He puts more weight on me, then cocks his head toward the windows. “Should I close those or do you want all of New York to see me fuck you?”
I had a feeling he’d be good at dirty talk.
I look left to the beautiful skyline. We’re at the top of a skyscraper. Only God can see our fornication now.
“Taylor, if you don’t—”
I arch. The back of my hand slaps a pillow. Taylor intertwines his fingers with mine. Our movement is careless but synchronized, full of friction and rhythm.
“You shouldn’t do things like this to my ego, Ramirez. It’s bad enough already.”
I hook my arm through his to grip his shoulder.
His fingers dig into my waist as things build.
We hold on to each other for dear life. When it hits, my orgasm is imposing and smooth.
It winds through my veins and rushes throughout my body like a wave.
I’m buoyant. Taylor stops for a moment before pushing further.
We persevere until he can no longer. Seeing him flushed and possessed for me is euphoric.
Something tells me I’ll be addicted to the high.
Mere steamy looks and schoolyard flirting won’t be enough to get my fix.
We’ll have to work out a deal. No matter how illogical it is.
––––––––
Besides a helicopter in the far distance, the morning sky over New York City is completely blue. I don’t remember the walls in this bedroom being green. I wasn’t paying attention to the decor last night. I roll over to find Taylor staring at me.
“Gah,” is the noise that comes out of my body. When my eyes focus, I realize it’s less of a stare and more of a beam. He’s practically glowing. “You look like a virginal teenager who just had his first lay.”
“I’m just admiring,” he says in a creaky morning voice I adore.
I prop my head on my elbow. “Really?”
The combination of his bedhead and goofy after-sex smile has me grinning in every sort of way. I’ve turned him wild, unkempt.
“You are the most beautiful blurry flesh-colored blob I’ve ever laid my useless eyes on,” he says with all sincerity.
I like the way he compliments me.
Taylor shifts closer to give me a kiss on the shoulder. My skin is tacky, and so is his.
“When do you have to go back?” I ask.
I bear witness to some great arm porn as he reaches over my head to grab his phone. The bed shifts under me like a tectonic plate.
“Now...ish,” he says, squinting at the time.
By his sigh and mine, I can tell we’d both rather just lie here till the end of time.
“Do you have princing to return to?”
He flops down on the mattress and stares up at the ceiling. “What are we going to do after this?”
“Like when we get home? I was thinking we could just keep having sex...if that’s okay.” What’s done is done, right? Might as well make the most of this bad idea.
“We should go to Austria,” he says. “They have those Sound of Music tours. We can frolic through the Alps.”
I sit up, taking the sheets to cover me. “What are you talking about?”
“What do you have against Austria? Even if I don’t have anything against Austria.”
Looking straight down at him, I ask, “Are you being serious right now?”
“I’m always serious.” He brushes my hair out of his face like opening curtains.
“You want me to drop everything and travel the world with you? I have a job.” Which I’m now behind on because of this impromptu sex-cation.
He sits up. “You’re the one who told me to put in effort.”
“Yeah, but not with me, you dork!” I flick his head. “You can’t date me!”
“Why? You have a husband?” He leans in closer. “Do you need him killed?”
“It’ll be like you’re interviewing me for a job, I can’t take.”
“It’s not like there are any requirements,” he says. “Except for being Catholic, maybe. Thought it’d probably just take a Sunday to convert. You don’t have to believe it, I just go on major holidays and eat the cracker they give me.” He puts up a hand. “We can talk about this later.”
I shake my head. “I’m already baptized.”
“Hallelujah.”
“Taylor,” I say seriously. “I’m not talking about religion.”
“Then what are you talking about? All I want is to spend more time with you.”
I’m talking about how a working-class woman of no status whose father is incarcerated doesn’t really fit the perfect princess profile. Slapping a tiara on her would be the joke of the century.
I don’t say a word of this to Taylor. Instead, I climb out of bed and head to the washroom for the things he’s saying are ridiculous. I’m not shy about flaunting my naked backside. There’s none of me he hasn’t seen.
“Do you need help?” Taylor shouts when I close the door.
My snort echoes between the white tile walls. “With showering?”
I hear a rustle from the bedroom, then a pause, then the shuffling of feet. “Sometimes I find it a little complicated,” his voice says from right behind the door. “There are different types of soaps, and hard-to-reach places.”
When I turn the handle, Taylor stands in front of me with a white sheet wrapped around his lower half. He resembles a Greek god.
“Shower sex,” he states. “Yes or no.”
I grab a fistful of his toga and yank.