Page 75 of Ex Marks the Spot

“Yeah?”

I nod as an exquisite ache builds between my legs. “I told you, it’s the grindability. And that flexing thing you’re doing.”

“This?” He raises his hips an inch each time I rock back.

“Yep. It maximizes the dick-to-clit friction ratio. Very effective.”

“What if we added another element to your ratio?”

“Like what?”

Grinning wickedly, he slips a hand into my shorts and glides his finger along the crack of my ass.

“Ohhhkay,” I moan. “Yes, I see the value of analyzing this new element for mathematic and scientific purposes.”

“Anything for research.”

“Exactly.”

Desperate for more of whatever he’s doing, I arch my back to give him better access.

“The subject seems to like this ratio,” he says in a researcher voice.

“The subject loves this ratio,” I reply in a pre-orgasmic, scrabbling-for-breath, non-researcher voice.

He gently presses a finger against the tight muscle, and I let out a squeal of pleasure when the tip slides in.

“Early testing of this element shows promise for future experiments.”

“So. Much. Promise.” I anchor my arms around his neck and writhe against his cock, feeling him below me and behind me and everywhere else too.

“That’s it, baby. Ride me until you come.” His researcher voice is now a sexy, gravelly, lust-filled voice an inch from my ear, and I explode on a silent scream. While my body takes orbit in a mathematical nirvana, Court whispers things like,

“Good girl.”

And,

“You’re so fucking sexy.”

And,

“I love watching you come.”

All while doing that hip-flex thing and gently massaging my ass though the aftershocks.

I am now literal putty in his hands.

“We’re gonna need to take a water break,” I say to the hollow of his neck a minute later.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. Any good researcher knows you have to complete the experiment multiple times.”

Rested is hardly the word I’d use to describe ourselves when we roll into Luxor, but we did spend a few hours horizontal without having sex, so at least there’s that. Also, I managed to get two doses of ibuprofen into Court and his ankle looks more like an apple than a grapefruit. As long as we can keep his activity to a minimum today, I think he’ll be back to normal in another day or two.

Our first stop is Luxor Temple. We’re still racing with Boyd and Treva, who shared an essential oil blend earlier this morning that she swears helped her through a sprained ankle at mile forty-two of an ultramarathon. Court mentioned something about defeating Isaac Newton and said he’d take all the help he could get. This also includes manifesting, which means no one is allowed to mention his injury because according to him, his ankle is “just fine.”

Anyway, Luxor Temple is about ninety-four percent less crowded than Khan el-Khalili and doesn’t sell food, so we’re far less worried about losing Boyd, who is, dare I say...delighted. Seriously. I’ve never seen him smile as much as I have in the last ten minutes. The man has talked in exclamation points since we got here, and you know what? I can’t blame him at all.

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