“Every time I see you, I want you,” she whispers. “Ever since I was sixteen.”
“The Porsche?”
She nods, and I kiss her mouth. She ends up on top of me, pulling my pants off like a sexy-crazed nymph. The fabric rubs my cock and I’m at full-mast, pushed painfully into my boxer-briefs. She yanks them off and pops me into her mouth like a goddamn lollipop, and I groan at the velvet-soft heat. I want to ask her if she’s sure, but my ass is rising off the floor and I can’t keep from pumping my hips. Her hands are...
“Ohh God.”
She’s gliding over my balls and pumping my cock and licking my head and—
I’m about to come if I don’t get my focus back on her. I try to urge her down beside me. When she won’t go for that, I put her in the sixty-nine position, gripping her ass as I bring her down over my face and lick her till she comes with a cry.
She closes her mouth over the head of my cock. I can feel her panting even as she sucks me deep into her throat and cups her hand around my balls and strokes behind them. All the while, her tongue is making circles around my cockhead.
“Fuck. Libby…”
She says something, but I can’t hear it, can only feel the vibrations around my dick, followed by a warm swelling sensation. Her hand around my balls tightens—just a little—and her mouth gives me a careful suck that has me seeing stars.
I come fast and hard, pulling out of her mouth just barely in time.
She drops her head down between her arms and grins back at me, and I blink up at her, wondering what the hell I’m gonna do about how perfect she is.
Chapter 28
Elizabeth
I DON’T THINK I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful than Hunter’s face as he comes. But almost as soon as he finishes, I’m worried again. He grabs a towel off a bench and cleans us up, and then he pulls me to my feet and hands me my clothes—and he’s gentle, with his eyes on me as we both dress, clearly concerned about whether I enjoyed myself.
I look into his eyes and tell him, “That was wonderful.”
“Good,” he says. But the smile he gives me doesn’t reach his eyes at all. He looks distracted. Worried, even. Like maybe he regrets what happened. And why wouldn’t he, says a little voice inside my head. He told you to leave—and you didn’t.
I’m staring at the floor, trying to decide what to do next without making this ten times more awkward, when he reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Want to go upstairs?”
“Sure.”
There’s no smile from him, no sign at first that he’s relived or happy that I’m still around. But after we step off the elevator onto the main floor, he wraps his arm around my shoulder as we walk toward the staircase. Every time our sides and hips bump, I feel a lick of heat.
He loosens his grip on me as we take the stairs, but we’re still close. His eyes glide over me. He looks pensive. “I want you to get a shower.”
Ah. He’s sending me away now.
I swallow, because I don’t trust myself not to say something that sounds frustrated. If he wants me to leave, I need to go.
“Okay,” I say quietly.
He holds out his hand, and for a second, I’m confused. “I didn’t think about this when I touched you, but my hands are bloody.”
Panic flashes through me. “Are you positive for something?”
“No. I’m not. Just thought you might like to clean it off.”
He says nothing more as we make our way through his room into a massive bathroom, done in sleek whites and grays, with Kandinsky abstracts on the wall.
There’s a shower, which I figure he’ll turn on, but instead he reaches over the sunken, square gardener’s tub and turns the knobs. He pulls some bottles from a cabinet, squirting something from one of them into the tub as it fills.
“Take as long as you want,” he tells me. He sits a towel and a wash cloth on the tub’s edge, and then disappears, closing the door behind him.
What the heck?
I take the world’s shortest bath, and as I reach for my towel, I notice the mess of fluffy, black terrycloth isn’t all towel. There’s a robe there, too.
I bring it to my nose and a quick sniff reveals it’s Hunter’s. It smells like shaving cream, deodorant, and him. As I slide it on my damp body, chills pop up on my skin.
After only a moment’s deliberation, I use a comb on the counter to brush my hair and then I gather my dirty clothes into a bundle and walk into Hunter’s bedroom. It’s been entirely put to rights—by Hunter or by a housekeeper, I’m not sure. I was so focused on him that I didn’t pay attention to the room when we passed through it before.