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I nod, my tongue darting out to wet my suddenly dry lips.
He crawls onto the bed, placing himself at my entrance. He drags the head between my folds, up then down and back up again.
“Mmm, even your pussy is beautiful. So warm and glistening, begging for me to stuff it with my cock.” He stares down at me and oddly, I don’t feel embarrassed or ashamed being so exposed to him. I feel sexy and desired, wanton and wild… just like he said I would.
“Please stuff me with your cock, Mr. Archer,” I say, my voice breathy, filled with need. I’m begging and I’m not ashamed. I see the effect it has on him; his jaw ticks, his fiery gaze darting up to me as he grips the base of himself tighter.
“You think you’re ready for me?” He slides his hand down my thigh, sliding a finger inside me deep. He pulls it out, then slides back in, crooking it upward till I moan loudly. “I’d say you’re ready.”
He replaces his finger with his cock, inching inside me until he’s sliding in and out of me at a pace that has me on edge. My back arches off the bed, my nails digging into the flesh of his biceps as his forearm presses firmly across my upper chest, pinning me to the bed.
“Oh, Miss Spencer,” he groans. He moves his arm from my chest, his hand grabbing a fistful of my hair. He tugs on it slightly, causing my scalp to sting at the roots but it mixes with the pleasure, heightening it.
“What would your daddy say if he knew you were getting fucked by his best friend, hmm?” My eyes roll back in my head as my orgasm teases me. He’s right; it is more exciting knowing we’re doing something we shouldn’t be doing.
“What would your friends say if they knew you liked getting your pussy stuffed by a man almost twice your age?”
His words are blunt and crass and they push me right over the edge. I scream and clutch at the sheets beneath me as he pumps himself in and out of me. My orgasm takes over, fireworks exploding behind my eyes.
A moment later he moans, releasing himself inside me. He rolls to his back, dragging me on top of him. We both lie panting in the darkness.
He drags his hand down my sweaty back, my cheek resting against his chest.
“I hope I didn’t go too hard on you for round one.”
“Round one?” I say, barely able to lift my head to look at him. “I’m exhausted.” I laugh.
He tips my chin upward, his disheveled sex hair making him even more desirable. His voice is gravelly and low, a smirk on his lips.
“I’ve got the hottest twenty-four-year-old woman naked in my bed, begging me to fuck her… You think I’m going to stop after just once?”
Chapter 10
Beckham
I can still taste her on my tongue as we board our flight home.
This morning wasn’t awkward at all which surprised me. I figured after the harsh light of day, Brontë would avoid making eye contact with me, but it’s actually the opposite.
“What?” She giggles, giving me a sassy head shake as she buckles herself into her seat.
“Didn’t say a word.”
“You didn’t have to. You’ve got that look on your face.”
“Look?” I ask, feigning innocence.
She rolls her eyes at me, frustrated I’m not playing along with her game. “You’re annoying.”
Brontë loves to be snarky, and I can’t say I mind it. It’s cute, but I also like to call her on it because it makes her blush.
I glance at my watch. “We’ve got eleven more minutes in Vegas. Care to show me what that mouth can do besides beg?”
I watch as her eyes dart to the side to see if the pilot heard me, a slight pink creeping slowly up her neck.
“You shy now?”
She pulls her bottom lip over her teeth. “No.” She says the word softly as she uncrosses her legs. My eyes fall to where she has begun to gather the material of her dress in her hands as she spreads her legs a little further apart.
