Page 22 of The Decadent Gift (The Gift 3)
I came like a wave hurtling toward the shore, faster than I expected, harder than I could ever have imagined, crashing more powerfully than I would have predicted.
My climax pulled me under as I moaned and groaned and shuddered.
I barely had time to surface for air when I felt something else.
Something I wanted desperately.
Jake’s cock.
He rubbed the head against my wetness, stroking, teasing. Then checking his watch. “Looks like I met the under-five-minute clause. So it’s time for the bonus,” he said, then pulled back and grabbed a condom from his pocket.
“I do enjoy bonus clauses,” I panted as my eyes locked on him, long, thick, and perfect as he sheathed himself.
He slid a hand up my back, pushing my blouse farther up, all the way to my neck. “Gorgeous,” he murmured. “What a sexy back. I’d love to come all over your back.”
I blinked. The image was so carnal, so arousing, that a fresh wave of heat surged in me. “You should sometime.” My voice hardly sounded like my own. But it could only belong to me because I was saying things, doing things I’d only done in my dirty, very private dreams.
And I loved it.
I was awash in lust as his hand ran down my spine and between my legs again. He positioned himself, then in one swift move, he pushed into my wetness.
And I cried out.
I couldn’t hold back my moans.
They were ridiculously loud as Jake filled me, and the delirious pressure made my skin sizzle.
He groaned, gripping me harder, thrusting deeper. His hands dug into my hips, and he held me so hard as he filled me. Then he pulled back, swiveled his hips, and stroked into me with a sexy grunt that sent heat across my body.
There was something so primal about the way Jake fucked me.
Something so alpha.
My blouse was bunched at my neck, and I wore only heels. He was still in unzipped slacks and his unbuttoned shirt, and he was fucking me like a powerful man fucked his woman at the end of the day.
With need.
With knowledge.
With control.
And with complete and utter desire.
He pumped into me, his hand traveling up to my hair, gripping my locks, wrapping a handful around his fist.
He seemed to sense that, for tonight at least, I didn’t need flowers and candles. I didn’t care for slow, sensual kisses all over. And I didn’t need a ton of foreplay.
I needed good, hard fucking from a man who knew how to give a woman everything she wanted. Everything she needed.
Some days, a woman just needed to be bent over a couch and banged in a Las Vegas hotel room by a man who knew how.
As Jake rocked into me, his hands roaming around my waist, palms reaching my breasts, a new understanding hit me.
No wonder friends gave friends escorts for gifts.
Because this was a fantastic gift.
Hotel sex of the very best kind.
Hard, fast, powerful.
And out of my control.
This was what hotel rooms were for.
For being owned.
Being taken.
Being wanted.
I felt coveted as he stroked into me, his hands rough on my breasts, his cock deep in my pussy, his moans feral in my ears.
Moans of praise.
So fucking sexy.
Feels so good.
Yes, rock back on me, baby. Take me deeper.
All those words turned me on higher, made me lose myself in this world of night, of fantasies, of games made real. Jake fucked me like my business partner who wanted to have hot, dirty hotel sex with me.
Soon, I felt that pulsing again—another climax tugging me under.
“Mr. Hamilton,” I cried out, grasping at our game, trying to hold on to it, but losing myself in sheer bliss.
“Yes, give it to me.”
I was already there, soaring, flying. Feeling so much. He fucked me to the limits of my pleasure and his too, as he grunted and groaned through his own release.
Sounding exactly like a man in a fantasy would.
A man who was exploring my fantasy.
And I realized something terrifying—this was everything I’d hoped it would be and more.
That was what scared me.
The more.
12
Jake
A man should never ask How was it? after sex if he doesn’t know the answer. If you can’t tell whether your partner liked it, then you’re not going to get the answer you want.
You’ll get a hem and a haw.
A lie.
A smile that covers up her lack of orgasm.
The only reason a man might ask a woman How was it? would be to give her a chance to purr in the afterglow.
After we cleaned up and disposed of the condom, I scooped Kate into my arms.
“Why are you carrying me?” Her question was genuine, but she laughed as I crossed to the bed.
“Because it’s fun.” I dropped her on the mattress, eliciting a sarcastic “Thanks.” But her expression said she was in a playful mood.
Like me.
Good sex always puts me in a better mood.
