“That’s my home number, babe. I use it, like, once a year.” I take his phone from his hands and quickly program my cell number, feeling the irritation I’ve felt the majority of the night drift away. Wyatt came down here to find me, and he’d kept his word.
He’d sought me out for our last night together.
Realizing this sends both pleasure and pain throbbing through my chest. My body threatens to crumble, but I hold onto the dryer behind me for support.
“I can be upstairs in fifteen minutes, and then we can—” I stop speaking for a moment, my eyebrows pulling together as he leans far over and locks the door to the laundry room. “What are you doing?”
I gasp as he jerks me to him, finally undoing the pesky top button of my jeans with his other hand at the same time. In one rough motion, he drags the denim down my hips along with my panties.
Oh. My. God.
His hands spread across my ass, so frantically that the initial slap sends a delicious sting across my skin. Bending his head slightly, he plunges his tongue into my mouth. I kiss him back, just as greedily, meeting the slightest movement of his mouth with my own. I taste Guinness on him, and I remember the night of my twenty-first birthday when we downed too many Black Velvet drinks at the Halloween Rock Ball YTS was playing at. We’d f**ked in the dressing room’s bathroom before they went back on to play.
“You taste so good,” I murmur. He glides his finger between my legs and a look of satisfaction takes over his face. I fumble with the button on his jeans, just as he flicks his tongue across his fingertip, savoring my flavor.
“Not as good as you taste,” he growls. “Bend over, Ky.” He doesn’t wait for me to comply. He simply turns me around so that I’m facing the dryer. Grasping the sides, I lean over it, shuddering at how the warmth spreads through my chest, at how the vibration from the machine sends more heat spiraling to the pit of my stomach.
Wyatt draws away from me only for a moment, but when he returns, I feel him, hard and long, against my bare ass. “You know that this isn’t it for us tonight,” he says, cupping my sex. When I mutter that it better not be, he chuckles into my ear and glides his c**k between my slick folds. He slides himself against me for a moment, testing my wetness, before thrusting into me.
A sigh escapes my lips, and I grip the corners of the dryer tighter. I rock my hips back and forth, meeting his deep thrusts. He presses his lips to my bluebird tattoo, and groans. “Fuck, Kylie.” Reaching around me, he squeezes my clit softly, and I gasp.
“Don’t stop. God, don’t stop.”
Because I need this from him. I need everything he can give me tonight so that I can move on and not want more.
“Harder?” He rubs my center in quick, circular motions. Strands of my dark hair cling to my damp forehead as I nod.
“Please.”
With his free hand, he clutches my hip, slamming into me. I just know that I am going to scream. I’m going to scream, and the hotel staff will rush down here to find us screwing like rabbits over their brand new Whirlpool dryer. Then, I’ll be banned from The Veranda for life.
For this, it’s worth it.
As the moan builds in my throat, he lets go of my hip and slides his finger into my mouth. I bite down on it, hard, and he releases a low noise. “Come for me, Ky.”
I shake my head. “Not yet, not until—”
“Come for me,” he repeats. “You’ve got me all night. You’ve got me for as long as you want. I want to hear you come.”
I’m still moving my head furiously from side to side even as the orgasm rips through me. I tighten up around him, clenching his c**k inside of me until a moment later, he trembles. We don’t make a sound, a movement, for what seems like hours.
At last, I feel his lips part between my shoulder blades. It takes a second, but I finally make out what he’s saying:
“That’s my f**king girl.”
Breathing heavily, I turn around so that we’re face to face. He touches his lips to my forehead, then to my lips, and finally to the tip of my nose. “Thanks,” I murmur. I place my palms flat against his chest, not to push him away, but so that I can feel the unsteady drumming of his heart. “I mean it. Thanks.”
Keeping his blue eyes on my face, he slips my jeans back up, grinning when I shift uncomfortably. “I meant what I said, Kylie. You’ve got me for the rest of the night. I don’t want there to be any—” He’s cut off by the doorknob jiggling. I mutter a curse and scramble to button my pants and adjust my halter-top as he pulls up his own jeans.
“Kylie?” Heidi’s muffled voice filters in from the other side of the door. “Please tell me you’re in there. I lost my key to the room, and it’s booked under your name so they won’t give me a replacement.”
Relieved, I sag against Wyatt’s chest. He strokes his hand down my spine. I clear my throat before answering Heidi. “Yeah, let me grab my stuff. I’ll be upstairs in a few, okay?”
“Why’s the door locked?”
Wyatt grins, but I place my finger over his mouth and give him a warning glare. He retaliates by squeezing my breast. “It locks when it shuts. I’ve got an armful of laundry, so I’ll be up there in five, okay?”
She mumbles something inaudible and then calls out, “Whatever, see you in a few.”
I count to 100 before I call out her name. When she doesn’t answer, I look up into Wyatt’s eyes. “You like to make your presence known, don’t you?” My voice is teasing, but the look on his face is serious. The pit of my stomach coils. I don’t want seriousness from him. Not tonight.