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“I know it was stupid.”
“Can you turn and face the other way? I can’t reach your other side from this angle without hitting the areas I’ve already treated.”
I was still half-hard, but seeing the news broadcast had deflated my erection a little… and my ego.
“Okay.”
Jack stood back from the bed, the small tube of antibiotic ointment still in his hand as I switched positions.
A low growl rumbled in his chest. “I think this side is worse.” He took his time cleaning the scrapes and applying the ointment, and I closed my eyes, letting his touch soothe and heal in more ways than one.
Jack held my hands against the headboard over my head, and my ass was full as he pounded into me. His breath was hot in my ear as he whispered filthy things.
“You’re so fucking tight. So hot around my dick.”
Jack’s cock was a thing of beauty, thick and long, with a ridge down the center that felt so damn good inside me. He pressed into me deep, tipped his hips as he pulled out so I felt every single inch, then slammed back into me hard, shoving me farther up the bed. My cock bounced between us, and I craved friction.
“Please, Jack. Stroke my cock. I need it. Please.”
“Not. Yet.” He punctuated his words with harsh thrusts of his hips.
“Please.”
Every time I begged, Jack drove into me harder, and precum spilled from my slit, pooling in the ridges of my abs and smearing over Jack’s chest when he leaned close to bite at my neck or whisper filthy things about how hot I was or how my ass squeezed around his dick in my ear.
His teeth grazed over my saddle patch, and my hips arched off the bed, looking for more even as he drove into me so hard it felt like I might split in two. Jack noticed my reaction and scraped his teeth along the darker skin on my neck again. It was on the tip of my tongue to plead with him to bite me, but I held the words back.
Jack’s thrusts had slowed while he explored the sensitive skin of my saddle patch, but I needed him to move again, to distract me with his cock before I asked for something I had no business asking for from a guy I’d just met in the hotel bar.
“Fuck me, Jack. Fuck me, please.”
With one last sharp graze of his teeth over the skin of my neck, he drove back into me deep and hard, and this time, one of his callused, rough hands wrapped around my cock while the other kept my wrists pinned. My eyes rolled back in my head, and I moved my hips, unsure if I was trying to impale myself on his dick or find more friction on my cock. My orgasm built, and I was so close to the edge. So freaking close.
“Mine.”
The single word pulled me out of the dream—the memory of the night I’d met Jack—just as I tipped over the edge, cum shooting from my dick. I was humping the mattress, my boxers now soaked with my release.
My face in the pillow, I reached out and felt only cool sheets. Thank fuck. I had no idea where Jack was, but he wasn’t in bed with me, and if the temperature of the sheets on his side was any indication, he hadn’t been there for a while.
And for the first time since we’d met, I was grateful to wake up without him.
Now that I wasn’t panicking that Jack had been there to witness my humiliation, the last frame of my dream played on repeat in my head—Jack driving into me hard while whispering, “Mine,” in my ear and scraping his teeth over my saddle patch. It was reality and fantasy all rolled up into one, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I was going to be able to keep myself from begging Jack to fuck me again. My body wanted it, even though my heart knew it was going to mean more to me than to him. I looked at the gold ring I’d slid back on after my shift yesterday. I liked seeing it on my finger, even if it was just pretend, part of a fantasy I wanted to see played out with Jack’s bite on my skin and his ring on my finger. For now, maybe it would be enough to fool around with him again. It would be better than nothing, and if my heart cracked a little when he left, I could piece it back together.
“Gah.” The frustrated sound echoed in the empty hotel room, and I ran a hand over my face, rubbing the sleep away and trying to get my brain back online. Pining over someone wasn’t a comfortable sensation for me. I’d never done it before I’d met Jack, and I wished there was a way I could stop doing it now, but every second I spent with him made me want him more when he wasn’t there. Fate had fucked around, and now I was finding out how miserable it was to want someone I couldn’t have.
Unless I was wrong. Jack wanted me. I knew he did, but was it only for sex, or was there more there? Relationships had been built on less, right? We were beyond compatible between the sheets, so maybe that could bleed into other areas of our relationship. Maybe if I told Jack he was my fated mate he would feel the connection and want me the same way I wanted him.
Forever.
But I’d never been good at mature adult conversations—just ask my brothers; they’ll tell you maturity is not one of my better attributes—and I wasn’t sure I could handle it if Jack rejected me. Because even bad-ass former Navy SEALs could be squishy emotional marshmallows on the inside.
Scenarios for how I could bring up the fact that we were fated mates and all the ways Jack could rebuff my claim on him played through my head as I grabbed a quick shower, the skin of the freshly healed abrasions pulling a little as I washed up. I was feeling a little surly and just tugging a clean T-shirt over my head when the electronic lock on the door beeped and Jack walked in.
He was carrying a white pastry box and a paper bag in one hand and a carrier with two cups of coffee in the other. Several bags bearing designer brand names swung from his arm.
“Morning. Glad you’re up.” He set the pastry box and coffee down on the long dresser against the wall.
“You could have woken me before you went out.” My tone was a little snappier than I’d intended, but my vulnerability was right at the surface, so I really couldn’t be blamed.
