Thinking About You

by Monica Murphy

  No. No, I do not. His fingers are crawling farther up my thigh, and when they brush against the front of my panties, all pretense of going to the pub with Cannon and drinking beer flies right out the window.

  I grab my driving glasses out of the compartment I keep them in, noting how shaky my fingers suddenly are. He removes his hand from my thigh, and the disappointment that washes over me at the loss is almost overwhelming.

  God, I need to get it together. Quickly.

  “Back to the hotel then?” I ask, my voice extra high as I jam the key into the ignition and start the engine. I carefully maneuver the vehicle out of the parking spot and hit the gas, the car lurching forward with a squeal. “Sorry. The road’s wet.”

  “I’m going to make something else wet too,” he says, smug as can be.

  “You’re so rude.” I shake my head and he just laughs.

  “You know it’s true. I can make you wet with just a look.” He sends me a searing look just to prove his point and damn him, it works.

  My panties grow damp the longer we stare at each other.

  I realize I should be paying attention to the road and hurriedly slam my foot on the brakes before I hit the car in front of us. A long string of them are waiting for the light to turn green.

  Cannon just laughs at my bumbling ways. “You’re a terrible driver,” he observes good-naturedly.

  “It’s all your fault, with your talk of making me wet and such,” I grumble, determined to keep my focus on the road and not on him.

  “Making you wet and such? You act like it’s no big deal.” He shifts closer, his face near mine, his breath on my ear as he whispers, “I bet your panties are soaked.”

  Well. They are now.

  “And I bet you’re dying for me to touch you there.”

  I am. I’m dying for it.

  “I bet if I reached into your panties right now, I could make you come in less than ten seconds.”

  A whimper escapes me and he bites my earlobe, making me jump.

  “I can’t wait to get you naked,” he continues, his tongue darting out for a lick.

  He’s killing me. So is this damnable red light. We’ve been waiting so long it’s like slow, agonizing torture.

  The moment the cars start to move, I press the gas, the car lurching forward yet again, the tires squealing. Cannon settles back into his seat, still chuckling like the arrogant bastard he is. “Eager much?”

  I glance over at him to see that single brow raised, a smirk curling his perfect lips. Gah, I want to kiss him, which is ridiculous considering approximately two minutes ago, we were kissing.

  Yessss, I want to kiss him and do other things to him too. My imagination has kicked into overdrive, what with everything he just said to me.

  “Maybe just a little,” I admit with a smile.

  “Me too.” His hand drops onto my knee again, giving it a squeeze before he resumes his exploration. That hand shifts even higher, fingers teasing the inside of my thighs, and I automatically spread my legs like a wanton hussy.

  Hmm, looks like I’ve retained some of those great words from my teenage binge of historical romance novels.

  I suck in a breath when he slips those confident fingers beneath the thin fabric of my extra sexy—yes, I made sure I was wearing a better pair tonight—panties and I try my best to jerk my leg away from his explorative touch.

  “If you want me to wreck the car, then keep doing what you’re doing,” I say, my voice nonchalant, my nerves going haywire. I’m not exaggerating with that statement. He keeps this up and I will most likely crash my father’s beloved car.

  “I’ll leave you alone.” His hand disappears and I glance over to find him gripping both knees, his knuckles white with strain. It feels good to see he’s affected by this—thing between us like I am. “Just know when we get back to my hotel room, you’re in for it.”

  My entire body tingles, especially between my legs. “In for it how?”

  “You want me to go into detail?”

  Yes, please. “If you’d like.” Again with the nonchalant tone.

  He sends me a look. He sees right through me. “Honestly, I’m not sure what I want to do to you first.”

  “Tell me what you’re considering and maybe I can help you make the decision.” I can’t remember where the hotel is, and I feel like a ninny for asking him. I live in London, I should know where everything is.

  Do people understand just how large London is, though? And how you don’t really need to ever leave your neighborhood, because all of the shops and restaurants you know and love are within a few blocks of your front door?

  It’s obvious I don’t get out much.

  “Well, I thought that lifting up your skirt the moment we get into the room, pushing aside your panties and fucking you against the door would totally work.”

  It would work. Yes. I agree.

  “But then I thought I might prefer you lying on the edge of the bed with me kneeling between your spread legs and licking your pussy.” He pauses and I glance over at him to see that deceptively innocent expression on his face. “What do you think?”

  “Um…” I’m at a loss for words. I like both ideas. A lot. “You choose.”

  He rubs his thumb and index finger against his chin, considering both options before he says, “I think I will.” And then doesn’t say another word.

  Torture. I swear.

  “There are a few things I’d like to do to you as well,” I say hesitantly, wondering if I’ll have the nerve to actually say those things out loud.

  “Really?” He sounds intrigued. “Like what?”

  “I wouldn’t mind taking off your trousers.” I glance at those black trousers, stretched tight across his thick with muscle thighs. “Pulling down your boxers, and sucking your—cock until you come. In my mouth.”

  He says nothing, which I find so very, very interesting.

  “Or maybe you could take me from behind. Both of us standing, me bent forward a little so I can take you inside better.” Ooh, yes. I’ve never done it standing up. It’s always been a secret fantasy of mine. “And you’d grab my breasts with those extra-large hands of yours and give them a good squeeze while you fuck me repeatedly.”

  I’m getting into this. And he’s still so strangely quiet.

  “Or perhaps.” I sit up straighter, my mouth stretching into a wide grin. “You could smack my butt extra hard and pull my hair while we do it doggy style.” The words doggy style sound so silly, but the image of him doing those very things to me while I’m on all fours on that giant bed in his hotel room…

  “You have a—vivid imagination,” he finally chokes out, his voice strained.

  I look over at him again, noting that the front of his black trousers is straining with his erection. “You bring it out in me,” I tell him truthfully.

  “Thank God,” he mutters, making me laugh.

  I come to a stop at a light—and as I look at the nearby buildings, the Caffé Nero coffeeshop to my left, I swear we’ve been here before. A few minutes ago, actually.

  “Sus, I have a question.”

  “Yes?” Oh God, he knows. And he’s going to give me endless shit over this.

  “Are we lost?”

  Slumping my shoulders, I lightly bang my head against the steering wheel once. “Perhaps.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” He sounds incredulous.

  “I was embarrassed. I should know my way around the city,” I practically wail.

  “You’re ridiculous,” Cannon says, but he doesn’t seem mad. Instead, he grabs his phone and starts tapping. “We’re ten minutes away,” he says once the directions pop up on his screen. “Listen to Siri and she’ll take you where you need to go.”

  Relief fills me as Siri directs me to turn left instead of right, which was what I’ve been doing. Truly I was driving in circles, and any other man I’ve been with in the past would’ve probably given me a bunch of grief about female drivers and how inferior we are. Even Col
in would’ve said something like that. Despite his excellent sexual skills and eagerness to please, he wasn’t the most progressive male I knew.

  Not Cannon, though. He doesn’t even seem that upset over my mistake.

  If only he were a Brit. I could see myself falling in love with him so easily.

  We finally make it back to the hotel, and I have to insist that Susanna get valet parking.

  “It’s too expensive,” she protests, her lips firm.

  “I’ll pay for it,” I tell her as one of the bellmen reaches out to open her door. She sends him a scathing look and he takes a stumbling step backward. She can play the ice queen part pretty easily when she wants to.

  “No, you won’t. That’s such a waste of money,” she says.

  “I insist.” I start to open the passenger side door but she reaches out to touch my arm, stopping me. I turn to look at her.

  “You don’t have to do this for me,” she says softly. “I can find a parking spot…somewhere.”

  “No,” I say firmly. She’s being ridiculous. “I have money, Sus. Lots of it. Stop being so stubborn.”

  With a sigh she removes her hand and turns to look out the side window, waving the poor bellman over to her door. “Fine. Let’s do this then.”

  We climb out of the car, and I hustle over to the bellman, explaining that Susanna is my guest, and I’d like to have valet parking, and for him to please charge it to my room. He hands me a card with a number on it, I give it to Susanna so she can stash it in her purse, and then we’re entering the hotel, making our way to the elevators.

  “You’re so commanding,” she tells me as we ride the elevator to my floor.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The way you just handled the valet with my car. You just took total charge of the situation.” She seems impressed.

  I shrug, secretly thrilled at the awe I hear in her voice. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

  “It was kind of hot,” she admits.

  I’m smirking. I can’t help it. “You find lots of things hot.”

  “Not with anyone else,” she admits. “Just you.”

  Her words ring in my head as we make our way to my room, and I can’t lie. They sort of freak me out.

  Just you.

  In a good way, though, considering I believed I was the only one who felt like this. The strong connection, the easiness between us, how much I want her, how explosive the sex is. Christ, when she told me all the ways she wanted us to do it earlier—I thought I might come in my pants, hearing her say those things in her proper accent.

  Just you.

  She is a complete surprise. Both fun and funny. Jordan and Amanda liked her, and that is huge in my book. I’ve had girlfriends before who my friends didn’t like. Actually, my friends didn’t like any of my serious girlfriends.

  My mother used to say I always picked wrong.

  Just you.

  Maybe, for once, I actually picked right.

  I open the door with my key card and we both practically run inside, the door closing with a loud slam behind us. I grab hold of her before she can get away from me, turning so her back is pressed against the door, my hands diving beneath her skirt so I can play with the waistband of her panties.

  “Fucking me against the door wins first, huh?” she asks, sounding amused.

  “You always drop the word fuck so easily?” I ask as I yank her panties down so they fall about mid-thigh.

  “No, not usually,” she says, her teeth sinking into her lower lip when my fingers sink into her pussy. “Oh my God.”

  “You like that?” I slick my fingers through her wetness, my thumb finding her clit and pressing against it. “Damn, girl, you’re so fucking wet.”

  “I want you,” she admits, her head falling back so it hits the door softly. I increase my pace, and you can actually hear my fingers sliding through her soaked folds. “Oh, right there. Please. Cannon.”

  My name falls from her lips again and I can tell she’s already close to coming. She clamps her thighs tightly around my hand, a gasp escaping her right before she falls over the edge. Tremors race through her body, her chest heaving, her breathing loud, her pussy dripping all over my fingers as she whimpers and moans.

  Those pretty little whimpers and moans have my dick trying to punch out the front of my pants, ready to break free.

  “I didn’t think I’d come so fast,” she whispers once her breathing has somewhat evened out. Her eyes crack open and she smiles at me. “That was amazing.”

  “And we’ve only just started.” I drop a kiss on her nose as I fumble with my belt buckle, trying to get it undone. Fuck foreplay and all the rest of it. I want to be inside her, fuck her hard and fast until she’s gasping and coming again. I liked hearing her call my name while I gave her that orgasm.

  I didn’t just like it.

  I fucking loved it.

  “Let me help you,” she says as she reaches for my belt buckle, batting my hands away. With a quick flick of her wrist, she has it undone, as well as the button and the zipper, and then my pants are falling to my feet and I’m kicking off my underwear while she slides her panties off. I grabbed the condom I had stashed in my front pocket and tear the wrapper open, giving my dick a firm squeeze before I roll the rubber on.

  Susanna watches, her mouth hanging open, her eyes glazed with lust. She likes my dick, I know she does, and I suddenly have this fear that might be all she likes.

  I hope to hell that’s not true.

  “You all right?” I ask once I have the condom fully on.

  She lifts her head, her gaze meeting mine. “I’m great.”

  “You sure?” I touch her cheek. She appears somewhat out of it. “We can wait a few minutes if you want. We can also take it to the bed if you’re uncomfortable.”

  “You are so unbearably sweet.” She wraps her hand around the back of my neck and pulls me in for a lingering kiss. One that turns into open mouths and tangled tongues in seconds. “I definitely want you to take me against this door, Cannon,” she whispers into my mouth.

  I break the kiss to study her, my hands going to the backs of her thighs so I can lift her up, her panties suddenly dangling from one leg. “Take you? More like fuck you,” I say as I push inside her hot, tight body.

  Her eyes go wide for a brief moment and she thunks her head against the door, her entire body jolting with the force of my thrusts, her eyes closing tightly. Greedily I reach for the front of her dress, clawing at the neckline, pulling it low so her breasts come into view. They’re covered in white lace and satin, and I tug on her bra, pulling the cup down so I can see her rosy-pink nipple. It’s hard.

  So I draw it into my mouth and suck on it, making it harder.

  I’m grunting like an animal with every push inside her body and she’s got her hands buried in my hair, holding me to her chest. I can’t stop sucking on her nipple. Laving it with my tongue. Biting it. She screams when I bite extra hard, and I speed up my pace, thrusting again and again, her ass hitting the door, her legs circled tight around my hips. We’re loud, anyone who happens to pass by my room in the hall could hear us, but I just don’t give a shit.

  Too focused on coming, on making this girl come. I’m overwhelmed with the primal need to mate and fuck and make her mine.

  She’s chanting over and over, “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” and I won’t. I can’t. I feel the familiar sensation start at the base of my spine, in the pit of my stomach. I’m gonna blow. It’s coming. She’s tearing at my shirt, her lips finding mine, and they start going slack when she begins to come. I erupt right after her, coming so hard that when it’s finally over, my muscles actually ache like I just put my body through the most intense workout ever.

  And I’ve had some intense workouts, so I know what I’m talking about.

  “Wow,” she whispers once she’s capable of speaking again.

  I’m still incapable. I swallow. Take a deep breath only to hold it, my heart thumping like a wild thing.
I exhale loudly, pressing my cheek to hers and breathing in her delectable scent. She brushes my hair away from my forehead and I pull away, opening my eyes to find her watching me with seeming fascination.

  “Why are we so good together?” she asks, sounding genuinely confused.

  “I don’t know.” I drop a kiss on her lips, our bodies still fused, my dick stirring already, which is unbelievable. “It’s pretty great, though.”

  “Definitely great,” she says with a little nod. She touches my cheek. “You’re sweating.”

  “Sorry.” Most women think it’s gross when a man works up a good sweat fucking them, and I’m sure the proper Lady Susanna feels the same way.

  “Is it wrong to admit that I want to rub myself all over your sweaty body so I can smell like you?” She wrinkles her nose, an uncomfortable laugh escaping her. “That sounds gross, huh?”

  “No.” Every primal, I am man, you are woman need rises within me, and I’m eager to shed her clothes, shed mine, and then let her rub herself all over me. “Let’s get naked and sweaty.”

  I pull her panties completely off and then her heels before I ease her to her feet. She sways toward me, her eyes heavy-lidded, the look of a woman who’s well satisfied written all over her face. Somehow, she takes off her dress and tosses it on the floor, leaving her standing there in a bra that’s half on/half off and nothing else.

  She’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

  “Take your clothes off,” she demands, waving a finger at me as she reaches with her other hand and undoes the clasp on her bra. It springs forward and she sheds it quickly, flinging it away so it lands on a nearby chair. I stop what I’m doing and just stare at her, taking in all the creamy, smooth skin and the big tits and the rosy nipples and the golden hair curling between her legs.

  Fuck me, she is my every wet dream come true.

  “Turn around first and I will,” I return.

  She mock pouts and I’m tempted to stuff my dick between her lips. “But then I can’t see you.”

  “I want to see your ass,” I tell her, and without a word she whips around, wagging it at me.