Page 81 of The Bourbon Bet
“My dad called right after I hung up with Paige. He’s running a little behind.”
Water from the shower hits her shoulder and neck, creating an enticing trail between her breasts. I can’t look away. Her hand slides up her wet stomach and cups herself, sighing, “But you have your breakfast meeting…”
“I’m the boss. They can wait for me.” I shuck out of my clothes and step into the shower, pressing her against the wall and kissing her until she’s writhing against me.
When we pull apart, I pick up a bar of soap. She hands me a loofah. “I’d rather use my hands,” I say.
I turn her around, and she rests her palms against the tiled wall. Goosebumps rise on her skin, and her quickening pants tell me she’s as turned on as I am. Working up a lather, I slide my soapy hand along her shoulders, arms, then waist. Bringing them to her front, I cup her breasts. She presses back, her ass rubbing against my rock-hard dick.
Heat rushes through my body and I grind against her slick skin. All my blood and need rush south. Gliding a hand down her stomach and between her legs, I press my fingers against her clit. She moans my name. I love the sound on her needy lips.
She slides my cock between her thighs, wrapping her hand around the head. She’s slippery and warm from the shower and her desire. In a single thrust, I’d be inside her.
She bends as if reading my mind, placing her hands on the opposite wall. Over her shoulder, she looks into my eyes and begs, “Please.”
The condoms are in the bedroom, but I can’t leave her. I come closer, like a magnet to metal, pulled by a force both invisible and undeniable. There’s plenty to do with her beautiful body that doesn’t have to end with me inside her.
She rises on her toes, gliding her heat along my length, and my need takes over. I reach around, palming her breast with one hand while the other slides down her stomach, returning between her legs. She rocks against my palm, pleading, “Yes, like that.”
The motion has her perfect ass rubbing against my dick. Her quiet pants become loud moans. I lick the shell of her ear, murmuring, “Are you close?”
“Yes,” she whimpers. “So close.”
She twists her neck and kisses me with wild, desperate lips, her body stiffening. She sucks in a sharp breath and I press my hand in hard, giving her more friction. My name becomes her chant. I move my fingers in a circular motion, and the cries of her orgasm drive me to the edge of control.
Twisting in my arms, she slides down my body and takes me into her mouth. “Rosalia,” I groan between clenched teeth, gripping her damp locks and forcing myself not to thrust down her throat.
Looking up at me, she skates her lips along my length until only the head of my dick remains between her full lips. Then her gaze locks with mine, and the unbridled lust in her eyes damn near makes me come.
She runs her tongue along the bottom of my length before sucking, taking me deeper and deeper. My knees lock, and I slam my palms against the slick shower wall. This is going to be over way too soon, but I’m powerless against the ecstasy.
I shudder, my muscles tighten, and my pulse races. Her hands grip my thighs as she finds the perfect rhythm, pushing me closer to the edge.
“You need to stop. I’m going to come,” I groan, on the brink of losing control.
I make to step away, but she holds me tighter, taking me so deep that my pleasure explodes through me and down her throat. “Fuck, Rosalia,” I gasp, nearly blacking out from the force of my orgasm.
She doesn’t stop until I’m completely spent. Then she stands and I wrap her in my arms, kissing her neck. “You’re absolutely incredible.”
Her hot breath caresses my ear as she purrs, “You bring out a side of me I didn’t know existed. I can’t get enough of you.”
“Christ, the way you touch me,” I rasp. “You’re intoxicating.”
I capture her lips in a searing kiss. My hands roam her curves possessively, mapping every inch of her silky skin. My hand moves down her body with deliberate slowness, teasing and stroking her. “I never want to stop discovering new ways to drive you wild.”
“Don’t tempt me.” She runs her hands up my chest. “But my dad will be here in about half an hour. And he has a key to my place…”
I sigh, turning toward the showerhead. “Naked is not how I want to meet your father.”
Closing my eyes, I tip my chin into the spray. What the hell am I saying? She might have referred to herself as my girlfriend when she’d been grinding on my lap during the fireworks, but in the light of day, I doubt she sees me as her boyfriend.
Less than ten minutes later, we’re out of the shower, dressed, and collecting our things to leave. “I’ll walk you to your truck,” she tells me, her cute ponytail swinging in front of me. “There’s a bagel and coffee place around the corner. I have time to pick up something for my dad and me.”
I follow her, mentally running through my packed schedule for the day. From the breakfast meeting I’m already late for, to the quarterly projections I need toreview and calls with international partners that will likely run into the evening, my mind is a tangle of obligations and deadlines.
But then I’m distracted by the way the morning light catches in Rosalia’s damp hair, and everything else falls away. A sudden, almost painful ache hits me. I’m going to miss her. Not eventually, but immediately, the moment I walk away.
“Wait,” I say.
