Page 6 of One Hot Night
“Yeah, that’s it. Get there.” One hand widens and his thumb slides down to massage my clit, playing it like his favorite instrument. Fitting, since it brings an erotic soundtrack of moans and gasps to my lips. I allow my eyes to drift shut, getting lost in the feel of everything. The slap of our bodies coming together spurs me on and I arch back, grinding on him.
“Fuck, Jill. Come on this dick.” He grunts his demand, thrusting his hips up to meet my rhythm.
I open my eyes and my gaze settles on his. The heat I find there, along with the strong set of his jaw, as if it’s taking every last ounce of his control to not come inside me is what sets me off. My toes curl. Incoherent sounds of pleasure escape my lips. My movements jerk with the tremors of my release. I swear I see stars, but more likely I forget to breathe as the aftershocks of my orgasm shudder through my body.
“I’m gonna . . .” But he doesn’t bother finishing the sentence. His hands lift my hips up off of his, and his condom covered erection bobs free as a guttural groan passes through his clenched jaw. I watch in fascination as his cock pulses, resting on his belly and filling the condom. The sight alone sparks a new wave of arousal through my limbs.
“Sorry,” he says between breaths, his chest rising and falling as if he just ran a sprint. “I couldn’t hold off any longer. You felt so good.” He tugs me down onto the bed next to him, then turns on his side.
This part—the after—is always my least favorite. My body wants to sink into a post-orgasmic haze, but my eyes don’t know where to look and my brain can’t think of what to say without making it awkward. Should I offer him a high five? Run like the wind? Too bad I couldn’t wrinkle my nose, blink, and end up transported to the safety of my own bed.
“Hey.” He catches my gaze, his own unreadable. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Oh . . .” I consider lying, but something in his stare pushes me to share a little more of the truth. “Teleportation.”
His chest shakes with laughter before the sound escapes his lips. Hello, dimples.Le sigh. “I don’t know if I should take that as an insult.”
Is he really fishing for a compliment? I bite my lip in an attempt to hold back my own amusement.
“Hey, it was good for you?” His eyes are wide, no trace of humor in them as if he’s genuinely concerned.
A piece of my cynical heart melts a little. Just a little. Because I have no doubt this man knows he delivered. “It was . . .” Mind-blowing. Orgasmic. Fucking fantastic.Literally. I scrunch my nose and give his naked form one long look, but when my eyes land on his I decide not to feed his ego. “Acceptable.” I roll away from his body and gather my discarded clothes.
His burst of laughter fills the quiet, chasing any lingering awkwardness to the moment. “Bathroom’s through there. It’s private. I have the master.” He nods across the room.
Thankful for the fact I don’t have to dress in front of an audience, I slink into the bathroom and relieve my bladder before tugging on my clothes. My skin is flushed, my neck and breasts rubbed red from his scruff. The band of my ponytail is secure, but several strands of hair have escaped, giving off a disheveled appearance. I look thoroughly fucked. Without a brush, I do my best to pull my hair back in place.
A knock at the door jolts my focus from the mirror. “Hey, you okay in there?”
I grip the doorknob, twist and swing it open.
Cam startles a little at my sudden appearance, but he recovers quickly with a slow grin. “Hey.” His pants are back in place, but his chest is bare and highly distracting.
I can’t pull my gaze from the muscular cut of his body. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Just wanted to make sure you’re good.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
He bites at the edge of his lip. “Um, no reason.”
“Okay, well, I better go.” I nod past him and when he moves out of my way, I brush past, careful not to graze his body with mine. Not because I don’t want to. God, he’s so fucking hot. I kinda want to push him back onto the bed and demand a rematch. He’d probably be game. He’d absolutely deliver. Once with Cam is not nearly enough; the man is skilled. But that would send mixed signals, and I do not want to confuse our agreed-upon terms. In my experience that only leads to messy, uncomfortable conversations, and good sex isn’t worth that.
Sliding my shoes back on, I reach for where I left my phone. There are several notifications, but I ignore them.
“Give me your phone. I’ll put my number in,” Cam says, striding over with his confident steps.
“Why?” I force out a wry laugh. “So you can call me?”
“No.” There he goes again with that knowing smirk. As if he knows something I don’t.
“No?” I raise my brows. Then why does he want my number? Is this his move? What he does to ease women out of his bed. Does he think I can’t handle a one-time hookup? That I’ll chase him? I scoff. “What, you think I’m calling you?”
He chuckles, his open palm held between us. “No.”
“Then why?” Against my good judgment I hand over my cell. I’m not sure why, other than it makes him smile and those dimples pop. They’re almost as distracting as his bare chest.
He takes my phone and taps the screen a few times. He locks the screen and takes a step forward. His lips, full and utterly kissable, are only a breath away, but instead of going for my mouth he slides my phone into my back pocket. He gives my ass a squeeze and steps back. “Maybe I’ll send you a dick pic.” He shrugs, then reaches for the door. “If you’re lucky.”
