Page 11 of Tight

He gave it to me slow. Let me adjust before his speed picked up, thrusts roughening right at the moment when I was ready for it. I wrapped my legs around his waist. Dug my heels into the lickable meat of his ass. Squeezed the heat of his skin with my legs, stared up into his face as he buried his cock in repeated succession, the quickened pace containing an edge of desperation, of wild inhibition.

“Right there, I’m about to...”

I bellowed, the howl of a woman overtaken, and he groaned at the sound, lowered his face to my neck, inhaled my scent as my voice broke. I lost all focus, all ability to understand anything but that he hadn’t stopped, hadn’t slowed, was carrying me on this high which would not stop until it took hold of my soul and made me his own.

He pulled me back to life, gripped my face with both hands, lowering his face to mine, and dove into my mouth. Kissed me strong. Ragged breaths between deep kisses, his cock continued its steady thrust, my hands greedy against his chest, scraping across the ridges of his side, scratching lines of need into his back. Then he broke the kiss, his hands tightening a little on my face, our eyes holding until a groan dragged from his throat, his eyes closing, head dropping, thrusts slowing and deepening, until he was buried and still inside of me. His hands dropped my face, my name rolled off his lips as he eased down, his body flush to mine, and it felt, in that moment, like we were fused—souls, bodies, and mind—completely together.

My cell was ringing. I heard the familiar tune, the beats dragging me awake, my hand fumbling over the empty bedside table. I woke more, hanging half off the bed as my fingers tripped over carpet until they encountered my purse. I answered it a second short of too late. “Hello?”

“You slut!” The screech of Tammy’s voice was way too loud, and I pulled the phone away from my ear. Blinked in the darkness. Tried to figure out where I was. One bed, not two. Room twice as big as the one I spent the prior night in. Movement came from behind me, and I looked over my shoulder to see well over six feet of dark gorgeousness watching me, on his side, the dawn light contrasting with the intense look that he rocked so well. ‘Good morning,’ he mouthed, his hand reaching out, wrapping around my waist and pulling me flat on my back. He stayed on one side, head propped up on one hand, eyes on my face.

“What do you want?” I mumbled into the phone.

“I just got back to the room. I know your prude ass can’t be shacking up with that delicious piece of man you left with last night.”

“I can’t talk right now.”

“You know wheels are going up in three hours.”

“Then you should get some more beauty rest.”

A snort. The beginning of some lecture. I hung up the phone, locked it and tossed it onto the floor in the direction of my purse, before rolling toward Brett and closing my eyes. I tried to memorize the look of him in morning shadows. It’s a good look. Way too good of a look. “I’ve got to go back to my room.”

“No you don’t.” He bent over, pressing a kiss on my collarbone. Pulled at the sheet, and revealed a breast. He exhaled, moved his mouth to that spot with soft kisses until I pushed him off. Cuddled into the crook of his shoulder. Rested my head on him when he laid back against the pillows.

“I have to go back home.”

“When?” The word vibrated through his chest, and I rolled closer into him. Ran my hand over his chest.

“One. Which means I need to pack, and shower...”

“...and eat breakfast.”

I looked up. “Maybe.”

“I’ve been told that I’m excellent at ordering room service.”

“I’ve been told that I’m excellent at eating it.”

***

We ate on the bed like kids, cross-legged, cartoons on the TV, trays on the crumpled sheets before us. I leaned over, swigged a generous swallow of mimosa from the flute and then returned it to the bedside table. “So ... Mister...” I tilted my head at him. “I don’t know your last name.”

He scowled. Brought a forkful of omelet to his mouth and chewed thoroughly before swallowing, the clench of his jaw as he ate drawing my attention to the strong curves of his face, the way dark stubble made the green of his eyes pop. The gulp of his throat was, in itself, somehow sexy. “Jacobs.”

“Jacobs. Why the Bahamas, Mr. Jacobs?”

“Isn’t that a question you should have asked me before you...”

I raised my eyebrows as he struggled for words. “Before I what?”

He met my playful gaze. “Trusted me with your body.”

I shrugged. “Jena has your business card. She makes a practice of digging into every aspect of my life. I’m sure she has your blood type and latest draft of your résumé by this point. She hasn’t called to warn me of anything, so I think my body is safe in your hands.”

When his eyes darkened, they became hunter green. A heart-stopping change. Intensity looked incredible on this man. “I fish.”

My eyes picked up on his tan, the flex of his forearms as he reached forward and snagged a piece of toast. I suddenly wanted to see him on the deck of a boat, wearing only swim trunks. The flex of his muscles as he battled a fish. The break of his smile when he caught a prize. I’d never seen him during the day. When the sun reflected in those eyes. I looked down, scooped up a spoonful of grits, and brought them to my mouth. Chewed. Swallowed. Looked back to find him watching me.

“Have you caught anything this trip?”

His mouth twitched. “Been too busy with a certain blonde to get any time in.”

“Ahhh ... sure. Blame your bad luck on me.” I shot him a look he found humorous, his mouth splitting into an easy grin.

I was digging out grapes from the fruit bowl when he spoke. “Stay a few more days with me.”

I paused my quest for red ones. “I can’t. I have work tomorrow.” As I spoke the words I realized how out of character they were for me. Blaming work instead of the fact that staying here, with a stranger, was foolhardy. How strange that I wanted to stay. The warm buzz, the state of euphoria that seemed to accompany every moment in this man’s presence ... it was a high I hadn’t experienced in a long time. New love. Love that—at previous interactions—skipped along on its merry way after a few weeks. My last experience with this heady, butterflies in my tummy, elation in my heart feeling was ... high school? Back when I had fresh, unwounded eyes. Before I realized the selfishness and deceit that we, as adults, hold. The ugly truths of life that pull apart love and make our relationships obligation-centers that carry us from year to year, transition to transition.

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