“You feel …” He exhales a ragged groan, muscles tensing, as though bracing against a deeper ache. “Perfect.”
I love knowing that he’s never done this before. It makes me feel like I’m different from the rest of them. Maybe I’m not imagining the spark I feel when we touch.
He moves back and forth in a slow, rhythmic pace that sets my body on fire. It’s not like our first time only hours ago, but still just as good.
Within minutes, he is picking up speed and hitting the perfect spot over and over again. My fingers clutch at his back as I search desperately for relief.
“I can’t wait to fill your pussy up with my cum,” he growls in my ear.
A wet slap sounds in the air after each thrust. When I feel the orgasm start to edge closer, I’m shocked that it’s about to happen again. I don’t know what’s different about him. He makes it seem easy, like extracting an orgasm from my body is second nature.
I dig my nails into his back when it finally hits. I scream something incoherently, even to me, as it moves through me. At some point, he grunts and jerks his own release, though I’m too busy basking in mine.
He falls on top of me for the second time while we lie in silence, trying to recover. His dick is still inside of me, but he makes no effort to pull out.
“Wasn’t it you who told me not too long ago that a woman screaming during sex was totally fake?”
I gasp and slap his shoulder. “Are you serious right now? Trying to shove that in my face while your dick is still inside of me?!”
He laughs as I push his chest and force him off of me. I try not to smile at his deep, guttural laugh that’s so out of character for him.
“Hey, I can’t help it. It’s a stroke to my ego when the hottest woman I’ve ever met tells me something like that, then proceeds to nearly rupture my eardrum during sex.”
“Oh, you really are a cocky bastard,” I quip, but can’t hide my own smile.
After we get cleaned up—again—we slide back under the covers. He pulls me tight against his chest while thoughts dance around my head, telling me I’m playing with fire.
Chapter Nineteen
Roman
It’s been a week since we’ve had sex. I can still taste her on my tongue, like a phantom flavor reserved just for me. I don’t know what the hell we’re doing. I admitted to having feelings for her, but that doesn’t mean I think this is something that we should pursue.
For one, her brother would kill me. Secondly, I’d probably fuck it up somehow. If I’m anything like my father, I’m a piece of shit who is bound to break a woman’s heart.
Eva is not the type of woman to play games either. She is letting me make the call.
I think about what it felt like to slide my bare dick inside of her. She doesn’t quite understand what that meant to me. I’ve never trusted someone the way I trust her, and the moment I decided to do that was as terrifying as it was amazing.
When I’m with her, I can’t stop myself from doing things I shouldn’t to keep the walls up. I’m powerless against her beauty. Not just her external beauty, but who she is on the inside.
I’ve managed to stay away from the hotel the entire week. Not necessarily on purpose. I’ve had fires to put out left and right, which needed my attention. As the president, it’s not really my responsibility to be at the job site very often.
This morning, I’ve decided it’s a good time to stop in and check out the progress.
Even I can smell the bullshit. There’s no reason for me to be here. I just want to see Eva.
I enter the lobby and am hit with the evidence of construction, the aroma of dust in the air. It’s not exactly how I want my current guests to be greeted, but there’s not much we can do about it.
At the door to the construction site, I grab a hard hat and swipe my badge. The walls have been completely torn off, and the area is stripped to bare bones, down to the concrete floor.
In the middle of the room is a makeshift table, using a large piece of plywood. Drew, Eva, and several of the crew are looking at a blueprint spread across the length of the wood, all wearing their hard hats.
Eva is wearing a dress and heels. Not just any dress. Some tight number that’s shorter than her usual ones. She leans over the wood to point to something, and I get a glimpse of her thighs.
I tense at the sight.
Remember, jealousy isn’t a good look. Plus, you have no right to claim her as yours.