by Meghan Quinn
“Fuck, Penelope!” I shout, pre-cum on my tip, waiting to be licked off.
She stand. Fucking stands!
With my arms straddling her shoulders, she lifts her hands over her head, replicating the position I had her in before.
Seductively, she smirks at me and says, “Weren’t you going to fuck me against the window?”
I growl.
A guttural, feral, rugged growl escapes me. A sound I’ve never made before, a sound I never expected to ever escape my lips.
Flipping the rest of my clothes off, I quickly retrieve a condom from my wallet and sheath myself, taking no time at all in delaying gratification.
“How many condoms do you usually carry with you?” she asks, her face twisted in disapproval.
“Since, I’ve met you, at least three. Before I met you, none.”
It’s true. Yes, I enjoyed sex with random women before I met Penelope, but I wasn’t one to fuck someone sporadically in a hallway. With Penelope, that thought has changed. I can’t get enough of her, I want her all the time and wherever there aren’t prying eyes. To hell if I will let anyone else see her body. Fuck no, she’s for my eyes only.
Desperately she tries to hold back the smile that wants to peek out. Caressing her face and looking deep into her eyes, I say, “Don’t hold back that smile, baby.”
Just as she lets it loose, I cup her ass and hoist her against the glass. Spreading her legs so my cock is at her entrance, I take a deep breath and then plunge in.
“Oh God!” she cries out, her arms falling to my shoulders.
“Arms up,” I grit out. Dutifully, she listens, thankfully quickly because once they’re in place, I thrust into her, at a relentless pace.
There is no finesse in my movements, it’s carnal, out of control, and even if I tried, there is no turning back. I pound into her, hitting her g-spot with each thrust. What started out as a slow perusal of my body is now an all-out, animalistic grinding of our bodies.
“Harder,” she calls out, her breasts swaying with each of my thrusts.
“Christ.” Holding her tighter, my fingers imprinting her legs, I exert myself, driving my cock harder and deeper into her.
Her cries echo through my villa, my groans matching hers. “I’m going to come,” I tell her, feeling my impending orgasm taking over my body.
“Me. Too.”
Clenching rapidly around me, her pussy pulses against my hardened cock as she screams my name, her arms falling over my shoulders as well as her head. Her muffled cries reflecting off our joint bodies.
“Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” I shout, pounding into her, not letting up until the entire space around me turns black and all I can do is feel the total euphoria with Penelope’s cunt clenching me and my dick claiming her as mine.
Unable to stand, I collapse to the ground, Penelope still in my arms, our connection still intact. She lays on top of me and giggles, an addictive sound I will never get enough of.
“Lose your balance?” she asks, her hair dancing with my bare chest.
“You fucked me unsteady,” I say, gazing up at her and bringing my hand to her cheek, rubbing it with my thumb.
“Pretty sure you’re the one who fucked me.” She kisses my lips, settling any tension I’ve ever had.
Little does she know… she’s fucked me.
Chapter Twenty-Two
**NELL**
A shiver rolling up my naked spine wakes me from a fitful sleep. It takes me a few seconds to clear my groggy mind and remember where I am, but I still can’t figure out why I’m cold, or why I have an uncomfortable crick in my neck. It isn’t until my eyes fully clear and I’m able to see what little of the room lit by the sunlight peeking through the small gap in the curtains that I realize the problem.
“Son of a bitch,” I grumble, never one to be described as a morning person. I’m lying in Gavin’s bed, still naked after a marathon of all night sex, next to the man in question… well, next to him is probably the wrong way to describe it, seeing as he’s basically starfish-ed across the entire bed, all the sheets and pillows pulled around him to form a warm, comfortable cocoon, while I lay here, curled into myself in the very minuscule amount of space he’s left for me.
It’s a revelation I never thought I’d be having. Gavin Saint is a massive bed hog.
Not feeling so polite after being kept up late—even though the sex was phenomenal—sleeping like crap, waking up before my body’s ready, and currently running on no caffeine, I do what any red-blooded American woman who thrives on getting her eight hours would do. Or at least, that’s what I’ll tell myself until the day I die. I twist my body, plant my cold feet in his side, and shove with all my might, sending the obnoxiously attractive bed hog to the floor.
“What the...!” Pressing my hand over my mouth, I try my best to stifle a giggle as Gavin’s head, complete with sexy, rumpled hair and a pillow creased face, pops up with a startled and confused look. “What happened?” His head darts side to side, the shocked expression in his eyes nearly making me lose it completely.
I swallow down my laughter the best I can. “Whoops.” I shrug my shoulders, playing the innocent doe-eyed dandy the best I can.
“Whoops?” he asks in bewilderment.
“You must have fallen off the bed,” I answer, grabbing a handful of sheet and yanking it over my body before confiscating a pillow and cuddling back into the plush mattress. My eyes are barely closed for a second when suddenly I am plummeting to the carpeted floor on my side.
Shooting up to sitting, I whip my hair from my eyes and look at the bed to find Gavin sitting there, a smug grin painted over his lips.
“Did you just push me off the bed?” I shout incredulously.
“You shoved me first!” he declares, clenching his fist.
“Only because you’re a freaking bed hog! You stole all the sheets, took my pillow, and sprawled your big, annoying body across the entire thing!”
He lets out a snort, crossing his arms over his chest as I stand from the floor, wrapping the sheet securely around my body. “You weren’t complaining about my body last night. If I recall, you spent a good thirty minutes running your tongue over every square inch.”
I shoot daggers from my eyes as I grab a pillow and smack him in the face with it. “That was before I knew you hogged all the covers and left me an inch of space.”
“Well excuse me,” he harrumphs, still looking adorably sleep rumpled and agitated. “I’ve never shared a bed with a woman before so it’s not like I’d know if I had a tendency to take up every inch.”
At his words, my frustration vanishes into thin air and a slow smile spreads across my face. “Aw, was I your first?” I ask teasingly, placing my knee onto the mattress and scooting his way. “That’s so cute!” I pepper his face with a thousand little kisses as he bats at me, still trying to hold on to his hissy fit, even though I can see the corner of his mouth hitching up.
“Shut up,” he grumbles, no anger in his words whatsoever.
“I was your first,” I continue, because honestly, it’s the only thing I can do to keep myself from jumping up and down, fist bumping the air in victory because I’M THE FIRST WOMAN TO SPEND THE NIGHT WITH GAVIN SAINT! That knowledge makes me positively giddy.
Somehow, my kissing his face turns into a full-blown wrestling match and by the time he pins me to the mattress I’m completely out of breath from laughing so hard.
When I finally get a hold of myself and look into those deep brown eyes, my lungs deflate at what I see in them. I know I haven’t known Gavin long, but this has to be the first time I’ve ever seen him so… happy. He’s staring down at me, his eyes smiling with total unguarded happiness.
“Morning, baby,” he says in a low, gravelly voice that makes my body tremble.
“Morning,” I smile, feeling the happiness leak out of him and into me.
“You look good in my bed.” Instant swoon. Seriously, every one of my lady bits quivers at the sound of Gavin admitting I lo
ok good in his bed. There isn’t a woman on the planet who would be able to withstand that kind of charm.
“Thanks,” I say in a quiet, breathless voice.
“Sleep good?”
At that I laugh, “Hell no. You’re a pain in the ass to sleep with. And I once had four girls in my bed during a sleepover, so that’s really saying something.”
Instead of being insulted, I watch as Gavin’s pupils dilate, nearly turning his eyes solid black. “Four girls, huh?” I feel the telltale signs of his erection pressing against my thigh. “Let’s talk about that. In great detail. Maybe with some diagrams or something. How are you at drawing? You know what? Don’t worry about it. I’ve got a vivid imagination.” He closes his eyes and scrunches his brow like he’s concentrating hard. “Oh, yeah,” he groans.
“Pervert.” I smack him in his arm in a fit of giggles, earning myself one of his heart stopping smiles. I’m quickly becoming addicted to those smiles. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever found myself not on the receiving end of them. And just like that, the thought of whatever is happening between us ending is like a bucket of ice water pouring over my head.
“Hey, where’d you go?” Gavin asks in a soft voice as his index finger comes up and runs along the wrinkle in my brow.
“Nowhere,” I lie, smiling up at him again. The last thing I want to do is lay my insecurities on him the morning after. I’ve never been clingy or self-conscious and I’d be damned if I started acting that way now.
“You sure?” he asks skeptically.
“Yep. Positive. Just need caffeine. STAT.”
“I think I can take care of that.” He pushes up, briefly hovering over me, the muscles in his arms straining in a way that makes my mouth water. It takes everything I have not to turn my head and bite into it. I let out a beleaguered sigh as his body heat leaves me and he climbs from the bed, his delectable ass twitching with each step he takes toward his dresser. I want to cry out as he steps into a pair of boxer briefs and covers up what should be plastered across billboards for all the world to see. Yeah, I wasn’t in love with the idea of women—and quite a few men—lusting after Gavin’s ass, not when it is technically mine. But I’m a fair person, and a work of art like that should be shared with the world.
“You coming, or are you going to spend the rest of the morning drooling over my ass?”
I have no shame. Reaching up, I wipe at the corner of my mouth. Yep, that’s drool all right. At the sound of Gavin’s deep chuckle, I cut my eyes at him and climb out of the bed, still wrapped in the blanket. I follow after him, our bare feet barely making a sound as we pad through the villa and into the kitchen. I’d expected him to call room service and order coffee and breakfast, so it’s surprising when I see him heading for a machine on the kitchen counter that looks like something out of The Jetsons. He fiddles with it for a few seconds, pushes some buttons, and miraculously, it starts hissing and whirring and the kitchen is filled with the delicious aroma of coffee.
“Marry me,” I whisper in awe.
Gavin spins around, looking a little shell-shocked. “What?”
“Not you,” I answer, tilting my chin toward the space-age coffee maker. “That. I want to marry it, that way I can keep it forever.”
He stares at me like I’ve grown another head before saying, “So let me get this straight. You’d rather marry the inanimate object—which I’m pretty sure is impossible—than the person who owns it.”
I make grabby hands in the direction of the now full mug. Gavin gets the point and pulls it from the machine, replacing it with another, and hands it to me. I inhale deeply, a serene expression on my face. “The machine won’t talk back or boss me around. Where’d you get that anyway? Can I pick one up at Bed Bath and Beyond?” I’m sure it would eat a pretty chunk out of the money I’d been saving lately, but from the taste of the coffee alone, it would be totally worth it.
Gavin lets out a loud bark of laughter. “That’s a fifteen hundred dollar machine. I had it shipped directly from Italy.”
I stare at him in silence for several seconds. “So… that’s a no on Bed Bath and Beyond?”
“That’s a hell no,” he continues to chuckle. I momentarily consider throwing my cup at his smug ass, but wasting this cup of liquid gold would be a sin. “I guess you’ll just have to keep me around for a while.” He prowls around the island to where I’m standing, each predatory step sending a thrill through my body. “You know, for my coffee maker.”
“Yep,” I say, feeling a little breathless the closer he gets. “All I want from you is your coffee maker.”
He grins smugly, knowing as well as I do that I’m totally and completely full of shit. He leans in so close I can feel his breath on my lips, and my tongue darts out, running along my bottom one in anticipation of his kiss. A kiss I very much want at the moment.
“What are you doing to me?” he growls, causing me to shiver.
“I don’t know,” I pant. “But whatever it is, you’re doing it to me too. And I don’t want it to stop.”
Just as his mouth comes down on mine the sound of the door to his villa opening and slamming shut echoes around us.
“Hey, dick breath!” a familiar voice shouts followed by footsteps coming closer. “I made that call you wanted. Don’t know what the fuck’s got you all interested in La Magie, but—what the fuck, man! Really?!”
At the sight of Graham Larson—my boss—standing across from us, I shoot back, distancing myself from Gavin, my heart beating rapidly against my chest.
I stand there like a deer caught in the headlights. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. This is not good. The employee handbook clearly states that employees of Hotel Paragon aren’t allowed to fraternize with the guests, and seeing as I’m standing in Gavin’s kitchen wearing nothing but a goddamned bed sheet, there’s no talking my way out of this one.
“Uh…” I mutter as Gavin walks over and pulls his mug from the machine and lifts it to his lips.
“Can I help you with something, cock blocker?” Gavin grumbles. I somehow manage to choke on air at Gavin’s callous remark. Shit! I’m so getting fired.
“You know the rules,” Graham declares as my body begins to tremble. I cannot lose this job.
“Mr. Larson, it’s not…” I trail off because I can’t possibly say “it’s not what it looks like”. It’s exactly what it looks like.
“No fucking hotel employees in the hotel man! I’ve been lax with you in the past because you’re like a brother to me, and I get it. The cocktail waitresses are hot—”
Wait… in the past? What the hell?
“Shut the fuck up, Graham,” Gavin growls, his jaw ticking.
“But I do not want to deal with another fucking waitress sobbing her eyes out ‘cause she saw another goddamned employee coming out of your room!”
What the fuck?!
“Graham!” Gavin barks, but he’s clearly oblivious to the tension suddenly thickening the air. “I said shut the fuck up!”
Just how many waitresses has he fucked? I wonder. My chest feels like it’s going to cave in as Graham continues. “If I have to let go of one more hysterical woman I’m opening myself up to a wrongful termination lawsuit. And I love you, but not that fucking much.”
I begin moving back. “Um…” I stumble over my words and the sheet currently tangling around my feet. I need to get out of here. There’s no freaking air! “I’m just going to…” I don’t finish, I just turn and bolt from the kitchen, tripping and nearly falling face first into a wall before catching myself. Great, just what I need. “I’m just going to get dressed!” I yell over my shoulder, not taking a full breath until I’m closed off in Gavin’s room, the musky smell of sex still lingering in the air.
The only thing I can wonder as I woodenly move around, snatching clothes from the floor, is: Did Gavin mean everything he said last night… and this morning? Or am I just part of some fucked up waitress fetish?
Chapter Twenty-three
**GAVIN**
“I’m about to tear your dick off and feed it to you for breakfast,” I grind out between my teeth, approaching Graham with my fists curled at my sides.
“What the fuck for?” he asks, completely oblivious to the damage he’s just done.
How long have I spent trying to get Penelope to trust me, to give me a small semblance of a chance at letting me bring her into my world? Then this jack off comes waltzing into my villa, balls dragging on the floor and a shit-eating grin on his face, just to wash it all away.
Yup, he’s eating his dick for breakfast.
Last night was something I never thought I would wish for. Taking a girl to my spot, letting her see a side of me only Scott, by force on his part, has seen. And then this morning, finding Penelope, rumpled and fucking adorable in my bed. Shit, it felt so right. From the moment she shoved me off the bed, to the way she stared at my ass while I put on my briefs, to the lustful look she gave my coffee maker – yeah, I’m jealous of the machine – it all seemed so fucking right.
I didn’t want to kick her out, I didn’t want Gertrude, my housekeeper, to shove her out, and I sure as hell didn’t want to cut all ties with her. It was the opposite. I want her to hang out with me all day, naked preferably, I want to tell Gertrude to take the day off, and I not only want Penelope to stay around, I want to learn more about her. I want to know everything about her, about her childhood, her family, her gymnastics. Fuck, I want to see some of her moves, and maybe fuck her while she’s doing them.
I desperately want to bury myself inside her again, edging her to the brink of orgasm until she’s panting, writhing under me to the point of explosion. I want to see those hazel of eyes of hers glaze over again while her little mouth forms that tiny, adorably little “O”. I want to feel her tight cunt squeeze my cock, greedily sucking me dry until the convulsions of her wet pussy finally give out.