Page 68 of Ex Marks the Spot

I shake my head, relishing the feral smile blooming beneath me. “It would violate at least five contractual agreements.”

“And the producers would be pissed.” He trades the grip on his cock for greedy handfuls of flesh on my hips, my ass, my thighs, each kneading touch a confirmation that he wants this as much as I do.

Emboldened by this discovery, I take over for him and press the base of his shaft against the wetness pooling between my legs. He rewards me with an ungodly sexy moan that causes my hips to grind against him while I jerk him off. “I’m glad you understand the severity of the situation.”

“I am extremely understanding.” His expert hands travel up my sides and around the front to massage my breasts and pinch my nipples in a way only he has ever mastered.

Arching into his touch, I return my palms to his chest and rock my hips faster and faster as I surrender to the slick friction we’ve created. How it can feel this good when he’s not even inside me yet is anyone’s guess. I should probably fix that, but then I’d have to stop what I’m...I’m...

“That’s it, Hartley. Come for me.”

High-pitched cries echo across the room as my body explodes from the inside out. I feel Court’s arm wrap around my waist, increasing the friction, and my hips buck wildly against each surge of white-hot electricity. It’s been years since an orgasm has rocked me like this—six, to be exact—but the confident look on Court’s face tells me I won’t be waiting long for the next one.

“Lift up.”

Still floating somewhere between earth and oblivion, I happily obey and he rewards me again, this time by teasing my entrance, then sliding up to trace torturous circles around my clit. It’s too much and not enough, which should be impossible, but so was the thought of sex with Court not even two weeks ago. Now we’re naked on a bed in Nepal and I’m halfway to my second orgasm in as many minutes.

The only problem? He’s still not inside me, so I take matters into my own hands—literally—and guide him there myself.

“Fuck,” he says through clenched teeth as I sink down, inch by exquisitely hard inch.

He remains still once I’m fully seated on top of him and uses the pad of his thumb to resume his circles on my clit. If I were with anyone other than Court, I’d be embarrassed by the groans of pleasure he’s coaxing out of me. Then again, if I were with anyone other than Court, I wouldn’t be making these sounds in the first place because no one has ever been able to work my body like him.

I try to savor the moment. To remember the line of contrast where smooth abs meet that sexy-as-hell happy trail. To catalogue the sound of his throaty growls and grunts as he fights the urge to thrust his hips, but his thumb is moving too fast and my breaths are coming too fast and I’m coming again andohmygod,OHMYGOD.

He anchors his hands around my waist and drives into me from below. By the feel of it, I’ll have ten souvenir bruises tomorrow morning, if I even survive until then, because I’mstillcoming thanks to the pace and angle of Court’s magical dick. My headstone will sayHere lies Hartley. She orgasmed to death.

Seconds later, his thrusts become erratic and he tumbles over the edge with a series of deep, guttural grunts. Boneless and wholly spent, I collapse on top of him and focus on regaining control of my lungs while his hands roam lazily up and down my back.

After I learned Court never cheated on me, my Scorned Brain took its neon cheater sign and went home. My Logical Brain, however, is currently pinching the bridge of its nose and sighing. Whatever. It can sit there waving its giant ball of attachment string and tapping its foot all night if it wants to. Just because I had sex with Court doesn’t mean it has to be athing, right?

Right.

I should clarify one small detail, though. Especially if we’re going to have a repeat of tonight’s lifesaving performance.

“There’s no good segue for this, but I’m on the pill so you don’t have to worry about the no condom situation.”

“I know.”

“You do?” I push up to look at him.

Hazy eyes and a sated smile greet me when he says, “You’ve left your toiletry bag open a few times.”

Oh. That makes sense. “And all the tests we did for the race mean we’re negative for everything.”

“It does.”

“Yep.” I stupidly nod at my own response and then continue with more verbal diarrhea. “Also, I really was just coming to get the laundry soap. I hadno idea you’d be...you know.” I make a circle with my finger in the direction of his dick...which is still inside me. God, why is this so awkward? It’s sex. Something we’ve done hundreds of times before. Who cares if my exceedingly long dry spell means I’m a little out of practice? Court obviously had no complaints. Or maybe he did and he’s just being nice. In that case?—

“Hey.”

“Hmm?” I say to the pillow.

“Please look at me.”

I reluctantly slide my gaze to the right, but only because he asked nicely.

“I can hear you thinking.”

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