I’m panting when the elevator dings. My head flips to the opening doors, like I might get caught with my skirt up, grinding myself on the leg of a man who looks like a god and talks like a porn star.
But then both of his hands are on my ass, and he’s hoisted me up. I squeak as my arms find his neck and he strides out of the elevator, carrying me. Past the table with fake flowers. Past the chair I’m sure no one ever sits in.
“Someone might see us,” I whisper, even though I seriously doubt this small-town hotel is very lively at this time of night.
“Yeah?” He turns, roughly pressing me into a door, jostling the hinges as he plunders my mouth again.
My legs wrap around his waist, and I grind on him again. “Is this you?”
He smiles against my mouth, grinding back into me and rattling the door. “No.”
“Theo!” I hiss, pushing at him.
He swipes my wrists with one hand, pressing them above my head.
Another knocking sound as he does.
“Who’s there?” The voice on the other side of the door freezes me, but Theo only chuckles. His lips and tongue still move against me. It’s like he’s feeding me his laughter, because I giggle. And this is insane.
Suddenly, he lifts and turns us. We head across the hallway and one slot down where I’m pressed up against a whole new door. The closer we get to his room, each tether that’s kept me tied down snaps.
“Sorry, Tink.” His teeth drag over my neck. He bites and sucks. “Those socks are driving me wild. Couldn’t make it all the way to my room without a quick pit stop.”
The door across the hallway opens and over Theo’s shoulder I see a middle-aged man in his boxers, holding a TV remote. It takes him a minute to register what we’re doing.
I bury my head in Theo’s neck to avoid his eyes. “Shit,” I whisper.
“Get a room!” he calls out.
“We’re trying!” Theo says back, turning his head to smirk at the guy.
I stay hidden in the crook of his neck, basking in the feel of his body wrapped protectively around mine.
The only response we get from the guy is the slamming of a door. Then, in a flurry of motion and kisses and desperate hands, we fall into Theo’s room. Only a lamp in the corner lights the space, giving it a warm, dim glow.
Theo sets me down at the foot of the king-sized bed and says, “Strip.”
With a deep breath, I give myself an internal pep talk.
I am doing this. And I’m going to enjoy it. It’s going to feel good.
Before I know it, I’m pulling the long-sleeved dress over my head. I toss it onto the desk and stand before him in my white bra and panties, topped off with a pair of high socks. Even though his eyes are devouring me, I keep my attention on the desk, too shy to meet Theo’s gaze.
“Fuck. Look at you.” He tugs my bra straps off my shoulders before reaching behind me and releasing the clasp almost better than I can.
I try not to think about how many bras he’s removed.
How many times he’s done this with other random women.
“Eyes on me, Winter.” His fingers press at my chin to turn my head. “What are you thinking?”
“That you’ve probably removed a lot of bras.”
“I've immediately forgotten about any of them. All I can think about is how perfect you look like this.” He drops to his knees and presses a kiss to my stomach. “All the ways I’m going to ruin you tonight. All I see is you, Winter.”
Fingers hook into the waistline of my thong, tugging it down until it’s mid-thigh, stretched between my legs. Theo Silva is eye level with my pussy.
“Like I said.” He licks his lips. “Perfect.”
“I bet you always say that.”
His cheek twitches, gaze still fixed between my legs. “Trust me, I don’t.” His eyes turn up to mine. “What should I do now?”
“I don’t know.” My breaths come hard and fast, heart rate accelerating. “Why do we need to talk about it? Can’t you just do it?”
“Oh, because I like to hear you say it. The tone of your voice. The way you’re all pink right now, panting over the thought of having to ask for what you want.”
My brain fails me. My mouth doesn’t move. All I can do is stare down at this insanely sexual man kneeling in front of me, asking me to say things I never have.
His mouth is curled in a knowing smirk. I’m so far out of my depth, it’s not even funny.
“Should I finger-fuck it?” His thumb slides through my pussy, spinning a circle on my clit. “Or lick it?” His head drops, the pointed tip of his tongue mirroring the motion.
My head falls back, hands to his dark hair. I moan.
“Use your words, Winter. Which one?”
“I don’t know,” I repeat breathlessly, turning into a puddle for this man. I can feel myself leaking even though he’s barely touched me.
“Okay then, you can show me how you do it to yourself, and we’ll figure out what you really like together.”
My head snaps down. “What?”
But he’s already standing, pushing me back against the bed. The back of my knees hit the edge, and I fall onto my back. He peels the panties from my body and glides his palms up the insides of my thighs to spread me.
His hands grip the top of my socks as he stares at my core, eyes alight.
“What about the socks?” I ask stupidly.
“Leave the socks. I like the socks. Now touch yourself. Show me how you do it.” He pushes me farther up the bed until he’s peering down over my splayed body.
“Fuck,” I mutter, taking one shaking hand and running it over myself. I’m already wet, when I’m usually not.
He says nothing, just presses my thighs open and watches my pointer finger trail through my inner lips. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying not to think how I must look to him.
“You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?” His voice is harsh now, rough.
I add my middle finger, rubbing absently, but it’s his hands I want. Not my own.
My own are nervous and uninspired. His are rough and adept.
“Is this really how you touch yourself?”
I open my eyes to meet his. “I . . . I mean, yeah? I don’t do it a lot. I’m busy and it never really seems like a great use of my time. And it just never . . . does it for me.”
He groans and drops to his knees. “You feeling good is the best use of my time. Push a finger in. Let’s see it.”
I moan and do as he says, curling my finger into myself. Just knowing he’s watching makes it different—better somehow.
I’m slick and all I do is pull more wetness out with every slow thrust.
“How is that?”
My nipples ache, and I can barely breathe, but it’s . . . “Not enough,” I murmur, honestly.
One hand moves off my thigh and he leans down slightly, still towering above me.
I suck in a breath when I feel his finger join mine. “Okay, let’s try together.”
I don’t even bother trying to talk. There’s no point. All my words disappear when his thick finger slides in beneath mine. Our hands bump as he works me.
After a few gentle thrusts, he adds a second finger. My back arches off the bed in a silent plea for more.
I want more, more, more.
“Better? Is that closer to being enough?”
“Yes.”
He groans when I clench around us.
“Use that free hand. Let’s see you play with your tits while I play with your pussy.”
“Oh my god.” I told this man I don’t come, but he might make me a liar. Because as I fondle my breast and roll my nipple between my finger and thumb, I writhe on the bed.
“Do you know what I think, Winter?”
My eyes glaze over as I peer up at the dark, dangerous man above me. I shake my head.
“I’m watching you. Watching your back arch while your nipples go hard, feeling you make a mess of my hand before I’ve even really started.” He smirks, dropping his gaze to where we’re both still wedged between my legs. “I think the only reason you don’t come is because you’ve been fucking a man who doesn’t know what you need. A man who is lazy in bed. Who doesn’t know how to take care of you. But that’s okay, because I’ll show you how that feels tonight.”
I nod, still working at my breast, watching as Theo drops to his knees at the end of the bed. “Now get your fingers out of my way. I’m hungry.”
“It’s okay, you don’t need to,” I say, grabbing at his hair, trying to pull him back up.
“Yeah, but I want to,” is all he says.
Then his mouth is on me and I’m having an out-of-body experience. Rob has never, ever done this for me. And I never had the urge to ask him to. Even if I had, I’m positive it wouldn’t have felt like this.
Like I’m being consumed. Like he can’t get enough.
Theo’s teeth graze my clit and I jolt on the bed, vision blurring. “Fuck!”
He pushes a finger in to work with his tongue and I’m a writhing, whimpering mass of limbs.
“Theo. I . . . oh my god. Fuck. That’s . . .” I can’t string a coherent sentence together. The only thing I keep asking for is, “More.”
And when he adds a second finger, mouth suctioned onto my clit while he impales me roughly, more is what I get.
More than I’ve ever gotten.
Within a matter of minutes, I have an orgasm at the hands of the most infuriating and persistent man I’ve ever met.
And not a single part of me regrets it.
In fact, I want more.
37
Theo
That night . . .