Page 197 of Scatter the Bones

“In my purse,” I manage to whisper. If I move, I’ll collapse. My legs are liquid.

He bends, grabs my purse off the floor, and rifles through it.

“Inner pocket,” I gasp.

He yanks out an embarrassingly long strip of condoms I’d grabbed at the last minute on my way to meet him.

“Margot?” He dangles the strip in the air and arches a brow.

“I thought…maybe we’d stop and play in the back seat of your car or something.” I grin at him, not even a little bit sorry to reveal that. “Not go to a hotel.”

Laughing, he tears into one with his teeth and, watching me in the mirror, rolls it on. “I fucking love you.”

He drops my heels next to me. “Put those back on for me.”

I wiggle my feet into the shoes.

Heat shoots to my core as he flips my dress up and slowly pushes inside me. His eyes close and he throws his head back.His fingers tighten on my hip. “Fuuuck, told you how long I’ve been wanting to do this.”

“Oh my God.” Now I’m the one whimpering. I rest my cheek on the dresser and arch my back to accept more of him.

“You okay?” he asks, hips pressing forward again, slower this time.

“I’m very…full.” I gasp. “Please don’t stop.”

A shiver travels over his body, as if he’s holding back from pounding into me.

“More,” I whisper.

He slides one hand around my hip between my legs and strokes my clit. My heart thunders.

I squeeze my inner muscles around him.

He pushes deeper, rolls his fingers over my clit over and over, amplifying my pleasure. Finally he thrusts harder. Moves faster.

“Yes,” I encourage, praying he won’t slow down again.

Fingers tugging and pulling at the zipper of my dress, he finally drags it all the way down and shoves my shirt up, skimming his fingers along my spine.

Heat races over my skin, radiating out in waves. My knees threaten to buckle.

He drives into me harder, slamming the dresser into the wall with a steady thump.

He grips my hips again, digging in, quickening his thrusts.

I spasm and clench around him.

Pleasure barrels down on me, fast and brutal. I cry out, sharp and broken, not even caring if the whole hotel hears us.

“Ah, fuck.” He comes with a groan, shuddering through his release.

After a heartbeat, he collapses on top of me, pressing me against the dresser, covering my hands with his. “Thank you.”

He kisses along my spine, then slips out of me.

“You okay?” he asks.

“I’m wrecked.” I kick my shoes off. “Can’t move. I live here now.”

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