Page 54 of One Time Only (One Time Only 1)
“You’re a fucking beast,” he rasps, watching as I move in him, as I find a rhythm.
Not too fast. Not too slow. Just enough that I can keep close to him, my chest to his back, my hand working his cock.
I thrust into him like that for a few delicious minutes, our bodies tangled together, our breaths coming faster.
But soon, the pleasure kicks up. Wild sensations spin through me, a tornado of lust. It rips inside me, and I embrace it—the feel, the pull, the intensity.
This is all my dirty dreams. It’s everything that made my days hard, and my nights harder.
It’s everything I’ve denied myself. Everything I’ve resisted.
And it is all I want in the world.
Him. Me. Tonight.
Most of all, I crave his pleasure.
My God, I want that more than anything. I want to do that for him, give that to him. I can picture it. Can feel it with every stroke, every thrust. Every slide of our skin.
Every move he makes. Each sound he utters.
“J,” he says in a hungry whisper. “I need something.”
I sink deeper, grip tighter. “Anything,” I say desperately. “Just tell me and I’ll do it.”
“Destroy me,” he urges.
And I heed the call.
“Pump that beautiful cock,” I tell him. He takes over as I rise up, gripping his hips with both hands while he fists his dick, stroking it fast and tight.
Driving into him without mercy, I go full throttle.
He stares shamelessly at our reflection, groaning as I snap my hips, as he strokes his cock, as I fuck his ass, as we seek our pleasure.
I grit my teeth as a wave of lust crashes into me, daring to pull me under, but I stave it off, needing his release first.
“Harder,” he begs.
He’s perfect for me.
As his cock slides through the tight tunnel of his fist, I find a new pace, pounding him at rocket speed, faster, rougher, hitting the P-spot inside him.
“Yes,” he moans, bowing his back. “Coming.”
He shudders under me, trembling as he spurts all over his hand and onto the bed. His release sets me on fire. I grip one hip, push down on his shoulder blades, and ride his ass. Pleasure gathers in the base of my spine, coils in me, then sharpens, tearing through my body on a mad race to ecstasy until it annihilates me.
Blissful oblivion. Total devastation as I climax hard, grunting.
Panting.
Sweating.
Losing myself in him.
And as I do, I feel something I haven’t felt in ages.
Something dangerous.
Something wonderful.
I feel connected.
Especially when I collapse next to him and press a soft kiss to his neck before I get up to toss the condom.
I return to the bed, drawing him close to me.
He sighs happily in my arms, blissed out as I hold him. Satisfied as I wrap myself more tightly around him.
I feel connected, and it’s so damn dangerous.
Especially when I catch a glimpse of the bedside clock and see that my shift is over.
Which means Cruz is outside the door right now.22JacksonI sit bolt upright and pace.
I need to move.
Need to think.
I head to the bathroom, splash cold water on my face, try to clear my head to no avail.
I press my palms to the counter and swear again.
Seconds later, a hand slides up my back. Gentle. Worried. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’re regretting that already. It ended sixty seconds ago. Regret should take at least five minutes to set in. Most medical authorities say it’s ten on average.”
I manage a small laugh. I know he’s trying to ease my mind.
But is that possible?
I turn around, shaking my head, frustrated. I hold my hands out wide. How the hell do I say this?
Just say it.
I rip off the Band-Aid. “It’s about Cruz.” I drag a hand through my hair. My sweaty, sex-mussed hair. “He’s outside your room right now. It’s my responsibility to hand off to him. To let him know I’m done with my shift and he’s on duty. And I didn’t tell him. The only thing I texted him about was the incident. I didn’t do my job. I’m sure there’s a text from him somewhere, and I can’t mess up like this.”
“You’re not messing up,” Stone says in his boss voice, his “I’m in charge” tone. “It’s only thirty minutes after midnight.”
“Doesn’t matter. Thirty minutes ago is when I should have handed off to him. I’m such an ass,” I mutter as I pinch the bridge of my nose.
Stone runs a hand along my arm. Comforting me.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I file away this intel—his impulse is to comfort me.
“I can’t let this stuff slip,” I say, since I screwed up. I knew I wouldn’t be thinking about anything else but this man once I knocked on the door.
“I’m not going to fire you,” Stone says, gentle but firm. “I told you before, I’m not going to let you go because of this. And I’m not going to let you go because you didn’t tell Cruz that your shift was over.”
