I laugh and push a loose tendril of her hair behind her ear.
“Well, first of all, we weren’t going to forget what was waiting for us, and number two, we were too busy playing poker to fuck anyone who might have hit on us.”
“Whores,” she mutters, as if she’s picturing the imaginary women in her head.
“Whores!” Stacy agrees then turns to her husband. “Can we go fuck now?”
“Don’t have to ask me twice. Peace out, guys.” Isaac immediately takes Stacy’s hand and leads her out of the club.
“I’m going back to play poker,” Dom says and waves at us as he leaves. “I’m on a winning streak.”
“We’re leaving too,” Jax says with a smile. “Thanks for keeping the secret. It was a great one.”
“You’re welcome.”
“See you tomorrow!” Mer calls after him. Sam and Leo are deep in conversation now.
“Want another drink?” I ask my already drunk woman, with no intentions whatsoever of actually giving her any more alcohol.
“Nope.” She grins widely and bites my chin.
“What would you like to do, drunk girl?”
“Strip you naked right here and take advantage of your hot body.”
I stare down at her then bust up laughing. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”
“Damn. You’re no fun.” She sticks her bottom lip out in a pout, and that’s it. It’s over.
I’m done.
I nod at Sam and drag Mer behind me to the elevator and punch the button to go up.
“Are you gonna strip me down in the room?” she asks and buries her face in my neck. “God, you smell good. You’ve always smelled so good. I could just keep my face right here for, like, twenty years and be okay with that. As long as you’re naked.”
“You’re killing me,” I mutter and bite my lip against the throb in my dick and the chills that Mer is sending through me as she nibbles on my neck.
No way in fucking hell am I going to make it up to our room without making her come.
The elevator finally arrives and is blissfully empty.
“Thank Christ.” I push her up against the wall of the small car, push the button for our floor and then attack her. “You can’t know how fucking sexy you are.”
“You’re the fucking sexy one,” she replies and yanks my shirt out of the waistband of my pants then plants those hands on my abs. “Jesus, Mark, your body is incredible.”
“You make me do shit that I would never do with anyone else. You make me forget myself.” I hitch her leg up around my waist and tug her thong to the side, giving my fingers access to her wet *. “Your * makes me crazy.”
“I want your cock, Mark.”
“In a minute,” I reply. “I want to make you come before we reach our floor.”
“Oh God,” she groans as her hips circle and push against my fingers, finally crying out, biting my shoulder as she erupts on my hand. “Holy shit.”
The doors open and I scoop her up and carry her to our suite. “I’m not even close to done with you.”
“Thank God.”
Chapter Eighteen
Meredith
Am I going to throw up? I lie still and take stock of my stomach, head, body. All seem to be in working order. My stomach isn’t rolling, which is a good sign because with the amount of alcohol I consumed last night, I should be violently ill. I never drink like that.
My mouth is as dry as can be, I’m sure I have dragon breath, and if I don’t pee right now, I’m pretty sure my bladder is going to explode.
I roll out of bed and shuffle into the bathroom, take care of business, then splash water on my face and brush my teeth, scrubbing the foul remnants from last night out of my mouth. When I’m finished, I rub my eyes, then take a good look at myself in the mirror.
Holy. Shit.
Mascara is smeared down my cheeks? my blond hair is a messy tangle and I have hickeys on my breasts.
I close my eyes and feel myself go wet when I remember how Mark worshiped my breasts last night, his words of appreciation for the boob pic I sent him, how they turn him on.
Who knew a boob pic would have that reaction?
I want to go wake him up with my mouth on his body, but he can’t see me like this so I start the shower and get in before it heats up, shocking my body awake. I wash my face and scrub my body then stand under the stream and wash my hair.
Just as I’m finally feeling human again, the door to the shower opens and Mark steps in and silently wraps me in his strong arms, hugging me close.
“Good morning,” I murmur against his chest.
“’Mornin’,” he replies, his voice still rough from sleep. He’s warm and smooth and perfect for leaning on right now. “How are you feeling, baby?”
“Better now that I’ve scrubbed every inch of me.” I grin up at him and feel my heart stumble when he returns my smile with sleepy blue eyes. “How about you?”
“I woke up missing you.” He kisses my forehead and turns us so he’s in the water. “And I think I smell bad.”
“We got very dirty last night.” I go to work washing him and watch my hands glide over his tight body, the muscles in his stomach, his amazing arms, his hips. “I see I put a few marks of my own on you last night,” I murmur when he turns and I see the nail marks on his back.
“You were enthusiastic,” he says with a chuckle.
“Back at you.”
“I’m always enthusiastic when it comes to you.”
“Back at you again.” He spins back around and washes his hair, then leads us out of the shower and tenderly dries me off, his hands gentle and thorough, making my body come alive again. Instead of leading me back to the bed when we’re dry, he guides me to the vanity and turns on the blow dryer and dries my hair, strand-by-strand, brushing through it with his fingers, quietly watching his own hands in my blond strands. He’s quiet this morning, thoughtful, and he’s taking care of me.