“But don’t tell him you love him until he tells eet to you.” More words of wisdom.
The check came. As we hugged good-bye, my sage friend whispered into my ear, “I’ll see the future Monsieur and Madame Zahn-deur at my wedding.”
When I got back to our hotel room, three dozen long-stemmed red roses, arranged in three tall crystal vases, awaited me. My heart melted. Mr. Zander was true to his word and a romantic.
I dipped my nose into one of the bouquets and inhaled deeply. The scent was divine. Intoxicating just like him.
“Hey.”
At the sound of his voice, I straightened up and caught sight of him stepping out of the bathroom. He was wearing nothing but a white towel wrapped around his hips. My eyes zeroed in on the deep “V” that emanated from it and then traveled up over his washboard abs and toned pecs. My gaze met his, and my breathing hitched.
“They’re beautiful!”
“My biceps?”
Conceited fuck! I scrunched my nose.
“No, the roses.”
“Thanks.” He cocked a bashful smile as though the flowers were an embarrassing afterthought. Our eyes stayed locked on one another. Silence. My sex was throbbing, my heart pounding. I wanted to be lost in him. Neither of us moved. The seconds felt like hours.
“Get over here, you,” he said at last, and in a heartbeat, I was in his arms. We were at each other as if an apocalypse was dawning. Kissing, groping, stroking, licking. He lifted my sweater over my head, unable to get it off fast enough. Panting, I kicked off my ballet flats and said good-bye to my leggings. The towel fell off his torso, and we were fused together, flesh to flesh. With his mouth locked on mine, he walked me backward until I was sandwiched between him and a wall.
“Wrap your legs around me, angel,” he said, lifting me off my feet.
Our eyes level, I did as he asked, looping my long legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. He gripped my ass to support me. Between my thighs, I felt his hot cock line up with my opening. “Gloria, you don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to have you like this.”
“Shut up and fuck me.” I couldn’t believe my own words. I was begging for him.
“I’m going to give it to you hard.”
Oh, yes!
“Promise me you’ll scream my name like it’s the only word you know.”
“Girl Scout’s honor! I gasped even though I’d never been one.
Satisfied, he slammed into me with a powerful thrust pushing me into the wall with pressure of his body. We both cried out with carnal pleasure. As he got into a rhythm, he latched his hungry lips back onto mine, and I moved my hands to his face, cupping it in my palms. Our kiss deepened, our tongues locking together in an erotic dance. We moaned and groaned into each other’s mouths.
I squeezed my legs tighter around him as he picked up his pace. My breasts skimmed his chest, and my clit was pressed tight against his pubic bone, making the sensation of every deep thrust so much more intense. I was a sweaty, whimpering bundle of bliss on the verge of a major orgasm.
“Angel, I can’t fucking get enough of you,” he breathed against my mouth.
And I couldn’t get enough of him. The words, “I love you” were on the tip of my tongue but I bit down on it to hold them in. Sandrine was right. He had to say them first. I drank in his sexy, heated face, longing for those three little words to form on his lips.
“Do I feel good?” he asked instead, his breathing harsh.
“Yes!” I cried. I was losing all control, a breath away from detonating.
“Good. I’m going to give you what you want.” He rewarded with me with a squeeze of my clit, and that’s all it took. I screamed his name for the first time over and over as a booming explosion of fireworks sprayed my core. He grinded into me and came hard, shouting my name. I could feel his hot release pouring down my already drenched thighs. He rested his glistening forehead on mine, our heated breaths mingling. I stroked his damp hair.
“Fuck, Gloria. That was even better than I imagined,” he said hoarsely.
Confession: Wall banging was something I’d fantasized about ever since he’d mentioned it in his conference room. It’d exceeded my expectations too. It was like a thrill ride—the kind you had to hold on to tightly or you might fall off. The experience was in a word: mind-blowing.
His breathing almost back to normal, he transferred my limp, glistening body into his arms and licked his upper lip. “I’m not done with you, Ms. Long.”
This man was insatiable. Though spent, I wasn’t done with him either. I wanted more. As he carried me away, the wildfire inside me burnt out of control, consuming every part of me. Sandrine was right. Even if he hadn’t said the three magic words, I couldn’t let him go.
We fucked our brains out again in the shower and then we hopped into his bed, minty clean, naked, and wasted. He spooned me into his body, wrapping one sculpted arm around my chest. The deft fingers of his other hand glided along my folds.