Later, he leans down to lay kisses on the sensitive tips of both my breasts, then pulls out and lays back on the bed beside me. He draws me close to him and I relax into his body, luxuriating in the feel of his skin against mine, and his heart beating against my chest.
I fall asleep soon after. A few hours later. I wake up and find myself alone on the bed. This time, I find Landon in the library, where a temporary office has already been set up for him, same as before he left. He’s sitting in the dark, his face lit only by the glow from his computer screen as he types something really fast. The door is open, and I watch him from the doorway, wondering if he ever sleeps.
He doesn’t see me standing there, and after a while, I go back to bed. This time, without him beside me, it’s harder to fall asleep. I finally drift off, but for the rest of the night, even in my sleep, I’m aware of his absence beside me on the bed.
I WAKE up missing Landon. The feeling is acute, real and sad, almost as if I’ve gone forward in time to when our arrangement is completed and he’s no longer a part of my life. It makes no sense, because for one, our arrangement isn’t over, and two, even when it ends, there should be no reason for me to be sad. It’s not as if we’re even in a real relationship.
Still, I can’t shake the feelings of depression and emptiness. Confused by the intensity of what I’m feeling, and my inability to rationalize it, I get up from the bed, wondering if Landon is still working in the library. Wrapping myself in one of the sheets, I walk over to the bathroom.
The dressing room and bathroom are combined in one large suite, and as I step in through the door, Landon emerges from the shower, totally naked. His hair is wet, plastered to his face and neck. His body is glistening with moisture, as little drops of water run down his skin. A cloud of steam comes out with him, carrying the tangy scent of his body wash.
He stops when he notices me standing by the door, and his eyes linger on me for a moment. “Good mornin
g,” he says, going to a carved wood shelf next to the shower and picking up one of the hotel towels. He goes to sit on a low bench that runs along the wall by the marble bath and starts to dry his hair. I watch the bunching of his muscles as his arms move, my body responding almost immediately. This part I get, the wanting him. It’s only normal, no woman could see him and not want him. It’s the other part I don’t get, the way my feelings have started to become a mess that even I don’t understand.
“Are you going to stand there staring at me all day?”
He’s teasing, and it makes me smile. “Would you mind?”
He grins. “Not at all.” For someone who has had so little sleep, he doesn’t look tired at all. How does he do it?
“You hardly slept last night.”
He shrugs. “I was working.” Something in his face tells me he doesn’t want to talk about it, and I drop the topic. He drops the towel beside him on the bench and combs his hair with his fingers. I could watch him all day, I realize. Everything about his body is amazing.
I’m staring, and from the smirk on his face, he knows why.
“I know I said I didn’t mind you staring at me,” he says, “but it seems I mind if that’s all you do?”
“Really?” I chew on my lower lip. “What else would you like me to do?”
“What would you like to do?” he asks. “I’m entirely at your service.”
My eyes travel over his body, from his tousled hair to his naked cock, lying thick and hard on his lap, and growing harder by the second. I lick my lips and free the sheet I’m holding around my body, letting it drop to the floor before walking over to him. Dropping to my knees in front of him, I run my hands along his thighs, then looking up at him, I take him in my hand, stroking up and down his length.
His breath deepens and his hips move forward. I bend my head and lick around the head of his cock while still stroking him up and down. He groans and throws his head back.
“Fuck!” The word comes out as a low, harsh whisper. His fingers thread in my hair, flexing over my scalp, and I respond by taking him inside my mouth, and flicking my tongue around the head of his cock before taking him all the way in, until I can feel him at the back of my throat.
His hands tighten in my hair and I hollow my cheeks, sucking deeply as I pull my lips back up, then do a deep suck on the head of his cock.
“Rachel!” he groans, removing one hand from my hair to brace it on the bench, while the other remains to help him move my head to match the movements of his hips as he strokes his cock in and out of my mouth.
It’s so blatantly erotic, what we’re doing. I feel as if I could come just from sucking on him. My eyes rise to meet his and he groans again, throwing his head back as his hips continue to move.
I cup his balls with one hand, the other busy exploring the tense muscles in his thighs. I love the sounds he’s making, the way his muscles flex as his hips thrust. I love the heady feeling of feminine power I get from seeing how aroused he is. I want him to lose control, and I want to be the reason why.
I tighten my lips around him, my tongue licking at the underside of his cock. His fingers flex in my hair and a tortured sigh escapes him, followed by hoarse words. “I’m coming,” he breathes, “Fuck! I’m coming.”
I respond with a moan, taking him deeper inside my mouth. His hips thrust forward, his muscles stiffening and his whole body shuddering as he comes into my mouth in a warm rush.
I swallow, milking him for every last drop. When I’m done he leans down and kisses me deeply, his chest still heaving.
He releases me and I start to get up, but he grabs me and pulls me onto his lap. “You’re not going anywhere,” he growls, “not until I make you scream.”
His lips cover mine again, and his hands cup my breasts, but I take hold of his wrists and pull away from his kiss. “You don’t have to,” I tell him. “I sucked you off because I wanted to, not because I want you to return the favor. Anyway,” I continue, “You should be resting. I’m sure you need to recover your strength, and I want to take a shower.”
I start to get off his lap, but he doesn’t release me. “I wasn’t trying to return the favor,” he says, “I happen to like making you come. I’m very fond of the way your face looks when you lose control, and the sounds you make are addictive.” He gets up, still carrying me, and moves like that to the shower stall.