Yes. In a heart beat. I swallow hard. “Maybe you should do it yourself. Make sure I’m completely smooth…”
I stretch the word out until it fades into a slow, hungry breath between us as I watch his face. He’s curved around my body, blocking me from sight. I slide my hand between us and squeeze his cock. Two of us can play this torture game.
Except as soon as I start, he stops.
I pout.
He laughs. “Leave my dick alone and you can come,” he whispers.
The blush crawls down my chest, towards my aching breasts, and I let him go.
“Good. When I get you to my place, I’m going to do just that, you know. I’m going to spread you out on my vanity and shave you bare. And then I’m going to lick you until you come on my face.”
Scott loves going down on me. And I love it, too, but good Lord, can anyone hear him? I close my eyes as he slides two fingers deep inside me. He doesn’t f*ck
them in and out of me. Instead he finds my G-spot and presses there, pulsing a bit as his thumb starts to work my clit.
“Did you know that the G-spot is the back of the clit?” he asks, quiet as a mouse. I swallow a moan and shake my head. He makes a tutting sound with his tongue. “And you’re such a smart girl. What are they teaching you at Georgetown?”
“Not that,” I pant.
He presses his fingers apart, intensifying the feeling. “It’s true. After I shave you, I’ll do this again. Give you a thorough anatomy lesson.”
“Awesome,” I say, and he leans in closer, covering my lips with a soft, gentle kiss.
Then he flicks my clit, hard, with his thumb.
I moan and he swallows my cry. He does it again and I jerk. A third time pushes me over the cliff, sending me spiraling into a free-falling climax.
Twenty seconds later, the railway equivalent of a stewardess comes by and offers us warm towels for our hands. Scott takes them both with a straight face while I reconsider my question about sex killing me.
“You’re so gorgeous when you come,” he whispers as he hands over a towel.
Yes, definitely dying.
—twenty-two—
Scott
“You have…oh my God, look at that tub!”
It amuses me that a woman raised in the lap of luxury is impressed by the claw foot bathtub in my London flat. “It’s deep,” I murmur, enjoying the swell of her ass as she braces her hands on the edge of it and leans over, stroking the far side.
“You can’t really buy tubs like this. I had a fancy soaker at my parents’ estate, but nothing this legit. Holy crap.” She groans as she straightens up. “I will be thinking about this tub all day.”
“Not me?” I smirk at her as she turns around.
“Not hardly. You, I have at my beck and call back home. This tub… my affair with this tub is going to be a limited-time event.”
And we aren’t? But I know better than to ask her that. Because we are, one way or another, although we both want to push the inevitable end out as far as possible. And not asking questions like that is part of the dance.
We’re not going to talk about what we aren’t, what we can’t be, because it’s a given.
But what we can be… “I’ll run a bath,” I hear myself saying. “And move my meetings to tomorrow.”
“Don’t be silly,” she says, but her eyes light up like it’s Christmas.
And it’s not silly. “When was the last time you had an entire day to yourself? No school work, no obligations?”
She presses her lips together. I suddenly realize the answer is her birthday weekend in New York, and I f*ck
ed that up for her, didn’t I?
I pull my phone from my pocket and fire off a text message to my brother, who is at the Mayfair Enterprises offices here.
S: Just landed at Gatwick. Delays and now rush hour. Meet tomorrow?
It’s not really a question, but I’m being courteous.
J: Fine. Swamped anyway.
I grin. “Out of the way, babe. I’ve got a tub to fill for you.” I press up against her as she stands up and brush her hair to one side. I lower my lips to her ear. “I’ve got a fresh razor in the closet in the hallway. Go and fetch it like a good girl.”
She shudders and I lazily spank her bottom. She presses against my palm.
While she’s gone, I get naked and start to fill the tub. I add bubbles, which she squeals over when she comes back. I get in first, and she joins me, settling against my front, giving me free range to play with her boobs, which look amazing floating on top of the bubbles. She protests half-heartedly when I slide my hands lower and cup her p*ussy
.
“Gentle,” she reminds me.
My dick flexes at the memory of how many times we’ve f*ck
ed already this trip.
“I’ll be good to her,” I promise. “Super gentle.”
She spreads her legs for me. I can’t stop touching her, and not just her p*ussy