His head dropped forward, but he nodded. “Okay, belle.”
“But if you don’t lose your temper for the next two days and you finish under par . . .” She raked her fingernails down his chest and over his nipples, making him jerk and shudder. “You can come inside me.”
True power was watching his pupils bleed into the brown of his irises, turning his eyes all but black, his right hand shoving into the waistband of his sweats to masturbate himself hard and fast. “Are you fucking kidding me, Josephine?” He growled behind his teeth. “God, I’ve never wanted to spank anyone so badly in my life.”
“I’ll let you do that, too,” she whispered.
Wells cursed. “No condom. Nothing?”
“If it’s safe for both of us?”
“It is. I’m up to date.”
“Me too. And I have an IUD. It’s the only thing that works well for me.” She razed his jawline with her teeth. “It can work well for you, too. Really well.”
“Ah fuck.” He moved in a blur, dropping down to his stomach and pushing her thighs open, his mouth moving over her flesh like a pilgrim in prayer. He wielded his tongue like a sensual weapon, breathing filthy words and praise in between hot strokes, two of his fingers alternating between firm strokes of her clit and pumps inside of her quickening sex.
When had the ceiling of her hotel room been painted like the Sistine Chapel? Her inner thighs were the consistency of jelly, but they were tight at the same time, her sex pulsing faster, faster, until she had to clutch at the couch and grind her back teeth. “I’m close.”
“Don’t be afraid to wrap your legs around my head and grind on that tongue, understand? It was put there to lick this pussy. Finish hot.”
Josephine’s back arched off the sofa, tingles crawling up her shoulders, invading her scalp. Her nipples were throbbing, core flexing, robbing her momentarily of sight and sound; all she could hear was her own rapid heartbeat and shallow breathing. And then pleasure was washing over her in a terrible mind-blowing rapture of muscle spasms and bliss, her disembodied voice calling out Wells’s name hoarsely.
“I’m here, baby. Baby, just let me put it in your mouth, just for a second.” She opened her eyes to find him straddling her hips, sweatpants shoved down around his knees, his grip choking up and down those blunt inches without gentleness. “I’m one stroke away, swear to God. Please. Just need a little suck to get through the next two days.”
The raw need in Wells’s voice brought Josephine up onto one elbow, even though her vision was still hazy from her orgasm. And no sooner did she give Wells permission with her eyes did he walk forward on his knees and pump the smooth thickness of himself between her lips, groaning at the ceiling, then louder as she accepted more, more. But his voice cut off completely when she drew on him with enough suction to hollow her cheeks—
And with a vile curse, he pulled himself quickly out of her mouth and stroked a rope of moisture onto her breasts, followed by another, another, his abdomen flexed taut, his thighs shaking on either side of her and his eyes squeezed shut. It was the most erotic scene she’d ever been a part of or witnessed. In real life or in the movies.
King Leonidas had nothing on Wells Whitaker.
He dropped down on top of her, using his elbow to keep himself slightly elevated, his gaze unfocused as both of them struggled to catch their breath.
“Well,” he said moments later, his voice like gravel as he scrutinized Josephine. “I guess this complicates the shit out of everything.”
And with that, he got up and rearranged his sweatpants, then handed Josephine the robe. He jerked his hoodie back on over his head, paced around for a few moments while finger combing his hair and looked at her long and hard. What was he thinking? Had their impromptu hookup met his expectations? “You’re not going to be weird with me in the morning, are you?”
She sat up, belted her robe, and ordered herself to be a grown-up about this. They’d exchanged pleasure and now he was leaving. He obviously wasn’t a cuddler or an afterglow type of guy—and that was fine. She usually wasn’t that type, either. If Josephine kind of wished he’d held her for a little while afterward, she would get over it. “I’m not going to be weird. Are you?”
“Me?” He scoffed. “No.”
Then nodded once and left the room.
With his hoodie on backward.
What . . . the heck had just happened?
Chapter Seventeen
Wells replaced the squat bar in its cradle with a clang and turned to face the empty twenty-four-hour resort fitness center. Country music filtered into the air-conditioned space from an invisible speaker, a halogen light buzzing overhead. It was four o’clock in the morning and he really needed to be sleeping, but after three hours of dozing in front of the television, he’d woken up wired and knew there was no way he’d go back to bed.