Page 100 of Jameson Fox

Glancing back at him, I note the look in his eyes and the movement of his upper arm.

“Show me your dick.”

“I should give you a taste of your own medicine,” he says, but he doesn’t. He angles his phone down so I can see his hand working his dick.

My hand goes instantly to my clit.

Fuck.

It’s like I can feel his dick even though it’s nowhere near me.

This isn’t going to last long.

I can get myself off in minutes if I want.

I can also drag it out if I want.

Right now, I’m not sure I’d be able to slow myself down even if I tried.

“Show me your cunt,” he orders, and I sag a little against the bed as a wave of need hits.

I turn and sit on the end of the bed.

I spread my legs wide for him, feet up on the edge of the mattress.

And I push a finger inside while continuing to rub my clit with my other hand.

“How close are you?” I ask.

“Close.” It’s practically a grunt. A course, crude, deeply masculine sound that calls to my feminine core in ways only he ever has.

I orgasm.

I close my eyes as every muscle I have contracts, spasms, tenses.

It’s intense.

It’s bliss.

It’s everything I need right now.

And then Jameson’s coming.

I hear him before I see him.

When I open my eyes, I watch him lose himself. It’s one of the hottest things I’ve done. Sitting in a hotel room in another country and still affecting him this way? We need to do this again.

“Tomorrow, you’ll take your hair down for me.”

“Tomorrow, you’ll get what you’re given.”

He brings a glass to his lips and takes a sip of what I presume is whiskey while we both recover.

“I’ll let you go so you can get back to figuring out how to handle that woman who’s giving you hell,” I say, moving off the bed to grab my phone. I bring it closer to my face so I can see him better.

“Did you hate today?”

My breaths slow as I stare at him through the screen. “It wasn’t as bad as yesterday,” I say softly.

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