Chapter 3
3
The elevator was almost at capacity when we raced through the doors, wiggling our way through a pack of tipsy, ugly sweater–wearing LunaCorp execs. I hadn’t let go of Joshua’s hand since we’d left our booth. And as the elevator rose, his thumb brushed over mine. Ripples of sensation spread out from the spot in perfect, overlapping circles until I felt his touch everywhere at once. It wasn’t enough, though, only his thumb. I wanted every part of him. I wanted his lips, his hands, his tongue. I wanted him the way I wanted sunshine after weeks of rain. But I had to wait. My room was all the way on the forty-eighth floor, and it wasn’t until the doors opened on forty-five that our final fellow passenger bid us a slurred good night.
“Thank fuck,” Joshua rasped, his hand gripping mine.
I didn’t wait for the doors to close again before I turned, fisted his tie, pulled him close, and moaned in relief at the feel of his lips against mine. They were just as full and soft as I’d imagined they’d be. His hand slid across my low back, warm and firm as he urged me closer, groaning when I brushed my tongue over his. He tasted like cherries and chocolate.
When the elevator ding ed, and the doors slid open on my floor, he slipped his arm low around my hips, hoisting me up. While I wrapped my legs around his waist, he cradled my thighs and stopped kissing me only long enough to ask, “Room number?” as he carried me out into the hallway.
Burying my hands in his hair, I licked a meandering trail up his neck. Then I took his earlobe between my teeth and slurred, “4810.”
He spun around, pushing me up against a door I was pretty sure wasn’t mine, and kissed me with such blind hunger it was almost indecent. Pressing my hips against his thick, rigid length, I sighed. Then I laughed when whoever was in the room that definitely wasn’t mine shouted, “Hey! Who’s out there?”
“It’s…down the hall,” I managed while his teeth grazed over my neck where it met my shoulder, making my vision go hazy. “Last room on the right.”
I clung to him, digging my fingers into his shoulders, and I thought I’d lost a shoe. Not that I cared. Who the hell cared about shoes when he’d unzipped my dress and unclasped my bra before we’d made it halfway down the hall. I was half tempted to skip the room entirely and beg him to fuck me on top of the ice machine. But then he pushed me up against another door and said, “This one’s yours,” against my lips.
Reaching back, I fumbled blindly to touch my thumb to the security panel. Then I wrapped my arms around him again as he flung the door open, carried me through, and kicked it shut again after it banged off the wall.
I yanked his tie off and unbuttoned his shirt in a frantic dash as he walked me to the wall, working my dress up over my hips. While I slid his shirt over his broad shoulders, he reached down to unbuckle his belt.
“Do we need protection?” I asked, panting like some sort of wild animal in heat as he slid my panties to the side.
“No,” he said, his lips skimming the sacred spot behind my right ear, his finger sliding through the wetness between my folds, slipping easily inside me. “I’m on the pill.”
“Good,” I praised, arching my back as a second finger joined the first. “That’s really good.”
His soft kisses along my exposed throat, his hand cupping my ass, his fingers moving inside me, were superb. But it wasn’t enough, and I’d never been called a patient woman.
Pushing his pants and boxers down over his hips, my legs trembling from holding on to him, from the pressure and friction of his fingers, I said, “I need you, Joshua. Now.”
“Yes,” he ground out, pulling his fingers free so he could take himself in hand, notch his round head into place at my entrance, and push.
My breathing turned into ragged little moans as finally, like a child standing in line for ice cream on a hot summer day, I got that first lengthy lick of him. And it was delicious .
“I should have taken your panties off,” he said, grasping my thighs, his fingers digging in enough that I felt them, though not enough to hurt. “But I couldn’t wait. And now it kind of chafes.”
I laughed, then gasped as he thrust into me again. “They’re not my favorite pair. Do whatever you need to do.”
I’d had several pairs of panties ripped off me in my lifetime, but never with such speed and finesse. Did he practice on mannequins? Or was this some innate skill that was bestowed upon him at birth, like a royal title: the Prince of Perfectly Torn G-strings.
With nothing but skin between us, he became an artist. He was fast when I needed him to be fast, and slow when I wanted him to be slow. It was like he could read my mind, or my G-spot. Like he was a G-spot psychic. And he was just right on top of it.
“Joshua!” I cried out, clinging to him, hanging on for dear life as I tensed and pulsed and came apart in waves. Squee flashed a firework emoji in front of my eyes with Orgasm Achievement Badge attained! scrolling underneath.
Joshua made this contented, purring sort of sound against my neck. Then, with such ease I wondered if he might be some new model of bionic, he pulled out, spun around, and tossed me onto the bed.
With my dress still rucked up over my hips, and while tiny aftershocks of pleasure pulsed through my core, I scooted back toward the pillows. Kicking off his pants, he stood above me, his gaze skimming over my body, studying every curve and contour like a sculptor might study a vase.
“Come here,” I said, letting my bent knees fall open.
Despite the heat in his gaze, his smile was almost shy as he moved toward me, naked, delaying only long enough to remove my remaining shoe. When he crawled onto the bed, prowling over my body until he towered above me, I took his face between my hands and kissed him.
No longer quite so out of my mind with need for him, I took a moment to appreciate his lips, his tongue. Joshua was a phenomenal kisser. Especially when those soft, warm kisses slid down my throat, between my breasts as he slipped the straps of my favorite little black dress over my shoulders and removed my bra. Even more when the tip of his tongue traced a warm, wet circle around my belly button as he pulled my dress down over my raised hips. When he draped my dress carefully over the edge of the bed, the small act of courtesy shook me. Who was this person? Nobody was this perfect. “ Are you a bionic in disguise?”
As he kneeled between my legs, staring down at my naked body, his voice sank deep. “Phoebe, do you have any idea how long I’ve been searching for the perfect breasts? My whole life, I think. And you’ve hidden them from me until tonight.”
My exhale was more laughter than anything else. “These breasts are a treasured heirloom the females in my family have handed down through generations.”
He leaned forward, his eyes locked on mine, holding my gaze as he flicked his tongue over the tip of my nipple. “Absolutely perfect,” he whispered over my wet skin. And when he took my nipple into his mouth and sucked, I shuddered.
As his mouth moved to my other breast, I threaded my fingers through his hair. When his hand settled between my legs, his finger stroking, pressing, circling, sinking into me, I wondered if the simulated gravity on the CAK had malfunctioned. Because I was levitating.
“This isn’t your first time, is it?” I joked breathlessly while his mouth and fingers carried me to the brink of another climax. So close, almost there… But just as ecstasy gathered in my belly, brisk and electric like a sudden summer storm, he reared over me, slung my legs over his shoulders, and fucked me until I saw stars, constellations, entire galaxies swirling into each other, colliding, becoming something new .
“Oh… Phoebe ,” he grunted as we came together. At the same time. No, for real.
Simultaneous Orgasm Achievement Badge attained! Ultra-rare! flashed behind my closed eyes as Joshua collapsed over me. While I tried to hold him, encircling him with my arms and legs with whatever paltry strength I had left, he raised his head from my shoulder enough to kiss me, a small brush of his lips on mine. And then he rolled to the side, flopping onto his back.
The ceiling swam above me, my body warm and loose and buzzing. “That… It was?—”
“Yeah,” he agreed, winded. “It really was.”
Aside from our breaths slowly evening out, the hotel room went silent. But before anything got awkward, he turned toward me, slipped an arm around my waist, and pulled me close. Tucking a stray strand of my hair behind my ear, he said, “I can’t believe I have to leave tomorrow. I’ve just finally found you.”
My heart did something weird inside my chest, like a whump . “Tomorrow?” I asked, sounding a bit too desperate for my liking, which was…also weird. “So soon?”
“Today,” he said. “Technically. It’s after midnight.”
Brushing my fingertips over the straight line of his jaw, I admitted, “That’s a shame.” And it was. Because I wanted more time with him, more than one night. And I never wanted more than one night. This wasn’t me. This wasn’t normal. I was always the first to leave after sex, slipping out before I’d even put on my shoes.
“Well,” he said, yanking me so close he pressed against my thigh, half-hard again. “Since I have to leave in a little less than four hours. What do you say we make the most of it? ”
Almost ashamed of it for some reason, I buried my grin into his smooth, hard chest and said, “Isn’t that what we just did?”
“Oh no.” He rolled over, flipping me onto my back, and settled between my legs. “We’re only getting started.”
Reaching down, guiding him into me again, I let myself smile as the word propelled itself out of my mouth. “Squee!”
In the bed, on the floor, bent over the table, standing under hot water streaming from the shower… We didn’t leave each other alone for hours. After racking up seven orgasm badges from Squee —shattering my previous record of four in one night—I fought to keep my eyes open while I watched Joshua sleep.
Whisper soft, I traced my fingers over his eyebrows, down the crooked line of his nose, across his full lips, charting the course of his face, memorizing each curve and contour, not wanting to forget. Because I’d probably never see him again, and I knew more than anyone how easy it was to forget. But even though I tried, even though I fought it, eventually I lost, and sleep claimed me.
Standing at my door an hour later, his dress shirt buttoned but his tie loose, he furrowed his brow. “I don’t know what to say to you.”
“Thank you should suffice,” I said with an airiness I didn’t feel.
Giving me a small laugh, he said, “Fair enough.” Then he grasped my hand, bringing my knuckles to his lips. “Thank you. I will never forget this night, Phoeb—” He stalled out, meeting my gaze. “Tell me your real name. ”
I smiled at him, then shook my head. “No.”
He clicked his tongue. “Worth a shot. Mine is?—”
Flipping my hand over so it covered his mouth, I said, “No. No real names.” I might have gotten carried away last night, and this morning, and even right now as I considered making him miss his shuttle. But I had my boundaries. Excellent boundaries. Firm. Solid. I just needed to find them. They’re definitely around here somewhere…
He kissed my palm, holding my hand in both of his, making it warm. Then he let me go.
Resting my head against the door frame, I reached back up to stroke his cheek. “I think I’ll miss you.”
Without another word, he slid his arm around my waist and pulled me into what was quite possibly the most passionate kiss of my entire life. With his arm holding me flush against him and his other hand gripping the back of my neck, he pressed us together so tightly I could hardly breathe. But breathing, I realized while my body decided all it needed to live was this kiss, was highly overrated.
When we pulled apart, he stared down at me and sighed. “I have the strangest feeling that I’ll regret leaving this hotel room for the rest of my life.”
While my heart gave another weird whump , I slowly loosened his tie and slid it from his neck. Then I wrapped it around my hand. “I would like to keep this.” It was silly, and probably a bad idea, but I wanted something of his, something to remind me that this night had actually happened. That it wasn’t just a chocolate-cherry-hairball-induced fever dream.
Kissing me one last time, he said, “It’s yours,” against my lips. And then he smiled, a devastating little thing, and walked away. About halfway to the elevator, he stooped down to swipe something off the floor. When he turned back, he held the shoe I’d lost last night by its heel. The look he gave me was a question, and after swallowing the lump rising up my throat, I nodded an answer.
“And this is mine” were the last words Joshua said to me as he walked away with my shoe dangling from his fingers.