There were so many freakin’ pillows that there was no way in hell someone could sleep with that many.
There was a fully stocked bar with chocolate-covered strawberries sitting on it with another note that said ‘Congratulations.’
Then there was the final thing.
A rather large, circular ottoman type thing that was covered in faux fur. The perfect height and width for extracurricular activities.
There wasn’t even a television.
“This place is really awesome.” I shook my head. “I have no idea how the hell she managed to get me into this for the same price as the one I booked. The one that I booked was economy.”
He chuckled and dropped my hand, walking over to the bed.
There he whistled.
“What?” I asked.
He gestured to the bed where the champagne was chilling.
I walked up to his side and read the note, then got a better look at what was beside it.
“Ummm,” I said. “Does that say what I think it says?”
“This has to be what she was blushing about,” Jonah grinned.
It had to be. There was no other way anything could’ve made her blush that bad if it wasn’t this.
“A pleasure kit?” He picked it up and brought it to his face.
The kit itself was about the size of a shoe box.
When he took off the red ribbons holding it together, then removed the lid, he grinned wide.
“This is…something,” he said as he dumped the contents of the box onto the bed.
“A vibrator.” He held it up, still in plastic packaging. “Finger condoms. Lubrication. Warming gel. A cock ring. Edible panties. Oh, and anal beads.”
I choked. “Out of all of that, there aren’t any condoms?”
He picked the box up and once again went through it. “Not a one.”
Chuckling, he tossed what was left in his hand onto the bed, pulled his backpack off, and placed it on the bed, too.
“Let’s go explore,” he said, beautiful eyes coming to me.
I swallowed, but never once thought to tell him no.Chapter 6We are all someone’s asshole.
-Jonah to Piper
Jonah
I woke with my head pounding, my heart hammering a mile a minute and the knowledge that I wasn’t alone in my bed.
The first indication that everything was not right was the female moaning coming from behind me.
The second was the way that female kept saying “oh, fuck me” over and over again.
The third was that there was a heavy weight on my left ring finger that felt conspicuously like there was something on it. And it burned.
Burned in a really familiar way, just not necessarily in that particular spot.
“Jonah,” a familiar voice said from the bed beside me. “My ass burns.”
I blinked, peeled open one eye, and stared at the ceiling.
“I’m not sure,” I rasped, “that that particular comment needed to be shared with me.”
“Well,” Piper said, sounding worried. “If I can’t tell my husband that, who can I tell?”
I froze, feeling my stomach revolt, but not because I was upset at the news, but because I’d obviously done some drinking last night. I also wasn’t a young man anymore. It took me a while to recover from an entire night of drinking.
“Husband?” I asked, sitting up in the bed and feeling the sheet slip down my completely unclothed body.
“Mmmhmmm,” she said, sounding funny. “Husband.”
I looked over at the woman in my bed and felt my dick come to life.
God, she was absolutely beautiful.
Her hair was a tangled mess of curls that went every which way but together in one direction. It was spread out all over the silky red sheets that we were both lying on. She had the sheet that was also partially covering me pulled up over her naked chest, and that was it.
She was naked underneath.
I wasn’t sure how I knew that, but she was.
“Did we…”
God, I hoped we didn’t.
I really, really wanted to remember the first time with her.
“No,” she instantly denied. “At least I don’t think so.”
I looked at her practically naked body laid out in front of me and felt something inside me release.
“You don’t have to look so relieved.” She rolled her eyes.
“I’m not relieved that we didn’t have sex…kind of. I’m relieved that we didn’t have sex and that I didn’t totally forget it. Because that would have been a tragedy,” I explained.
Her lips twitched, then she lifted her hand and showed it to me.
My eyes zoomed in on her ring finger where a red, obviously brand-new tattoo lay. It was of a crown with a ‘Q’ creatively hidden in the scrollwork.
I looked down at my own finger and felt my chest tighten.
“Shit,” I said softly. “I knew that feeling was familiar.”
Because on my hand was also a crown, though mine was fit for a king, and not a queen.
“I got up to go to the bathroom, rolled over on my backside to scoot out of the bed, and felt my ass protest,” she went on.