Page 41 of The Wanderer

"Good." She flicked her hair so it draped over one shoulder in a flowing golden cascade. "If this is our last time, let's make it count—"

He surged forward to claim her mouth, anchoring her with his hands on her waist, desperate for skin on skin contact. His fingers plucked uselessly at the silk and sensing his need, she eased her mouth away and untied the knot behind her neck. The top of her dress slithered forward to reveal the tight buds of her nipples and he groaned, lowering his head to swirl his tongue over one, then the other.

They puckered to tight nubs as he sucked and licked, flicking each nipple with his tongue before blowing on them. Her chest arched forward, thrusting her tits in his face, leaving him in no doubt that she loved what he was doing.

"More—" He cut off her demand in a searing kiss that made him lightheaded. She might enjoy being in charge but he got off on making her crazy just as much. He plundered her mouth as he tweaked her nipples, plucking at them with the barest pressure, her soft cries of encouragement spurring him on.

His right hand trailed down her taut abdomen, teasing her with a feather light touch that raised goosebumps on her skin. She wriggled in an attempt to get closer to him and he smiled against her mouth. "Easy, babe, there's no rush."

"Yes, there is," she said, her voice husky. "We had phenomenal sex the other night, then you left before we could have round two and I've been fantasising about doing it again ever since."

He didn't want to think about that night he snuck out of her apartment after calling his dad, or the fact Stephen hadn't called him back, so he nuzzled the column of her neck, nipping gently with his teeth. She shivered and reached between them, covering his rigid cock with her hand, rubbing him.

"You want this?” He thrust up into her hand a little, rewarded by a smug smile curving her lips.

"Oh, yeah." She scooted back a little, giving her access to his fly.

He held his breath as she unzipped him, slid her hand inside his jocks and wrapped around him, her grip firm. So fucking good. Then she took him out and her hand started to move up and down his length, sure and skilled. She watched from beneath lowered lids, the tip of her tongue poking out between her lips.

He pushed her dress up so the entire thing bunched around her waist, leaving her gloriously bare. With her legs spread wide her pussy glistened, so fucking beautiful, and he pressed his thumb to her clit, making her jolt.

He stilled her hand on his cock. "Sit back and enjoy," he murmured, wanting her to watch him get her off.

She complied, straightening and leaning back a fraction. He kept her anchored with one hand on her waist, the other between her legs, slick with her juices. His thumb circled her clit slowly as he slid one finger into her, another, mimicking a lazy pumping action that quickly had her writhing and panting.

Beads of perspiration dotted her skin as he increased the tempo until she was riding his hand with abandon. Her head flung back, elongating her neck, her tits thrust towards him, seeking pleasure and proud of it. She gave one final gyration before coming on a scream that sent a jolt of longing to his cock. He loved this about her, her sheer wanton enjoyment, in stark contrast to the prim exterior she presented to the world.

He made fast work of digging a condom out of his wallet and rolling it on so when her eyes finally fluttered open he was ready for her.

"You are…" She shook her head, like waking from a daze. "There are no words."

"Good, because I'm not one for talking." He guided his cock to her pussy, nudging in exquisitely slowly.

"Watch," he said, and when she looked down he surged all the way in, letting rip with a low growled "fuck" as she tightened around him.

He flexed his hips upward, grasping her ass with his hands to guide her. She didn't need it. She matched him perfectly. As he thrust up, she bore down, riding him with an expertise that made the tension pool in the base of his cock all too fast.

It had been like this that night at her apartment, wild and hedonistic, her enjoying the control that being on top gave her, him loving every fucking minute.

Everything began to blur into one erotic kaleidoscope as she rode him frantically: her sexy, throaty moans, the slide of her against his cock, the musky scent of their bodies joining.

His fingers dug into her ass as he gripped her tight, moving her faster, his hips pistoning as the fucker of all orgasms clawed at him. She arched back and the change in friction drove him over the edge with a brutal ecstasy that robbed him of everything.

"That was so hot," she murmured, bringing him back to the present and he blinked rapidly to dispel the fog clouding his brain.

All he could manage was a trite "yeah" because he knew, deep down in a place he rarely acknowledged, that no matter what they said, it would be hard to walk away from a connection this strong.

They’d meant this to be a goodbye fuck.

But what if he wasn't done with her yet?

Chapter Twenty

Hope wasn't ashamed to admit she liked the finer things in life. Aged Shiraz, French champagne, handmade chocolates. She worked hard to be able to afford her luxuries, keeping her granny's trust fund money for major purchases like the studio and her apartment, and their maintenance. She'd never been ashamed of her wealth but she hadn't flaunted it either, considering it had attracted the wrong sort of male attention in the past.

Because she didn’t trust easily, she never knew if guys liked her for her or if they were more interested in her money. She’d been on great dates that ended in one of two ways: the guy feeling intimidated and emasculated because of her wealth and begging off, or the guy not offering to pay because he thought she should. Both scenarios were incredibly unattractive.

She'd felt safe in the knowledge that Logan wasn't like those other men. A self-made millionaire, he wasn't interested in her for her money. In fact, he'd gone to great lengths to explain they were nothing more than transient.

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