Page 39 of Crave
Alana chuckled. “All righty, Bryn, and by the way, we’re starving. Do you and whoever you’re, um, fucking, want to grab some dinner?” She paused. “Is fifteen minutes long enough to finish?”
I raised my eyebrows at Jamison, and he did the same while nodding. Jamison shifted his cock in and out of my pussy. His fullness felt so good.
“Okay. Meet you in the lobby.” I sounded strained.
“Perfect, and enjoy! Oh, and thanks for our rooms. They’re lovely, boss. Like the ass on that guy.”
Alana chuckled, and Alex could be heard muttering, sounding as if he was chastising her, which he did when he thought she was being inappropriate. The front door slammed closed, and Jamison and I burst into laughter.
“Oh shit, she heard me having a real orgasm,” I said.
Jamison narrowed an eye. “How did you like it?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Oh my God, again, please.”
Softly, our lips melded, lovemaking resumed, and we ended with a bang as he made me come a second time.
Jamisonand I chose to dress for dinner in separate parts of the suite. We could hardly keep our hands off each other. I had to touch him, smell him, and have his muscles and skin against me. I was addicted to the taste of his mouth and the expanse of his cock stretching my womanhood. The sounds he made during sex, against my ear, made me cream like ice melted by fire.
After a quick shower, I debated wearing my black leather skinny pants with my black V-neck button-front sweater or something Jamison would find more accessible. It was cold enough to freeze my ass cheeks off outside. I had brought a long black cashmere trench coat, though.
“Warmth,” I muttered.
I slipped into the leather pants and the black sweater—again, no bra. I gladly wore my black leather booties with the three-inch heels. Jamison was much taller than I was. I didn’t have to worry about dwarfing him as I had when I’d gone out with Dale, who was only two inches taller than me. I was five feet eight inches tall. He was five ten.
I applied red matte lipstick and brushed out my hair to give it more volume. I added mascara and plucked my eyebrows just a little. After one more check in the mirror, I was ready to chase the night.
Jamison was waiting for me on the sofa as he’d done that morning. He whistled his approval and rose to his feet. “You are so beautiful, Bryn,” he said as if my mere appearance had put him in a daze.
He looked scrumptious, too, in a pair of black pants, a gray silk shirt, and Italian leather loafers. He also had on his black cashmere duster. And his scent filled the room.Damn, he smelled so good. Jamison Cox was a hell of a sexy, well-dressed man—a woman’s dream. I could hardly believe we were making a go at a real relationship. At some point, we would have to discuss strategy regarding my brothers—mainly Jasper—and his father. But not yet.
“We’re late.” Jamison wrapped his arms around me, drawing me against him.
“And this doesn’t help.” I said, smoothing one of his eyebrows and then the other. We laid soft, sensual kisses on each other, and I tasted the minty toothpaste in his mouth. “We should go.”
Jamison nodded and took me by the hand, and together, we walked out into the hallway. We couldn’t kiss in the elevator because a group of skiers was riding down with us. I felt distracted by my own craving for Jamison.
Again, what is this I’m feeling?I had to force myself to take a breath. Maybe Jamison had opened something within me that I’d never known existed before then. I used to force myself to want sex. But the first time Jamison and I made love, our togetherness had put a dent in my safety box made of steel wherein I’d hidden away my unbridled lust. Dale and I used to have a lot of vociferous headboard-banging, floor-shaking sex during which he would be the only one who got off. Frankly, I never enjoyed having sex with Dale. During therapy, I learned that it wasn’t the act of sex that had turned me on—it was the string of actions that came before it that got me hot. I needed Dale to sneak into the mansion against Randolph’s wishes. In defiance, I took Dale into my bed and gave him my body, knowing that I would never make a vow to the man my father wanted me to marry—Carter Valentine, who was still one of my dearest friends. Carter was strange, but I understood how he’d acquired his weird personality. He and I had always loved each other and forever would, but not in that way.
Carter remained stuck in my mind as the elevator doors opened, and Jamison and I walked out, holding hands. “What were you thinking about on the way down?” Jamison said in my ear.
I smiled. “An old friend. I’ll introduce you to him one day.”
He grunted, intrigued. “Competition?”
The question made me blurt a chuckle. “Ask me that after you meet him.”
Jamison turned his head, eyeing me curiously. I winked at him.
Alana and Alex shot to their feet when they saw us.
“Those are your assistants?” Jamison asked.
I’d forgotten he wasn’t able to see how tall and modelesque Alana was with her long dark hair, high, sharp cheekbones, and come-hither eyes. And Alex was the male version of Alana, only he had muscles.
“I promise, I didn’t hire them because of the way they looked,” I said in a rush.
I gave Alex his preferred side hug, but Alana and I embraced each other tightly. “We have to talk about what I heard in that bedroom,” Alana whispered.
