36. Devon

Devon

The second I have Lola in my hotel room, I'm pushing her down onto the California King bed and hiking the skirt of her little black dress up around her hips. She reaches up and unbuttons my suit jacket, pushing it off over my shoulders so it falls in a heap on the floor behind us.

Of course, I didn't mean what I said. I care about putting on that camp, but the only way it's not happening now is if we get caught. And I only intend to touch Lola here, in private, where nobody can tell on us.

I get my hands on the insides of her thighs and push her legs apart, loving the way she gasps when I hook my thumbs in the waistband of her panties, drag them down her legs, and throw them to the side.

A moment later, I'm tasting her, my tongue pressed against her clit, hot and sweet. I will never understand guys who won't eat a woman out. I don't mind doing it. I don't think it tastes good or bad, but it's not about that. It's about the way it makes her feel.

Based on the way Lola is crying out into the crook of her elbow and burying a hand in my hair, I'd say she enjoys it. Her hips push up and into me, and I groan at the knowledge that she's grinding against me to find her pleasure.

When I slip a finger inside her, it only takes a few pumps for her to arch up, her body shaking as she comes for me, her mouth open in an ‘O' shape. I wait until she falls back onto the bed, her thighs loosening from around my face, before I pull away, grin at her, and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

I'm far from done with her, but I head to the bathroom momentarily, rinsing out my mouth and brushing my teeth for good measure. I've been with women who don't mind being kissed after and those who don't like it. I'll ask Lola later, but for now, I don't want anything to interrupt this.

When I come back, I stop short in the doorway.

Lola has lost her dress and is on her side, head propped up, looking at me. My eyes trace over her naked body, her perky breasts, how her hip rises and falls away from the rest of her, how her thighs press together—and it's like I can't breathe.

I've seen naked women before. So why does seeing Lola like this make me feel this way?

"Let me guess," I say before she can open her mouth. "The water's warm?"

"Now you'll never know what I was going to say," she teases, and my cock jumps at the sight of her spread out over the bed, her hair a mess, her eyes dark. When she bites her lip, I'm done waiting. I kick my pants away and hastily strip off my shirt, the buttons popping and flying across the room.

"Now, who's in a rom-com?" she comments and laughs, but I swallow the tail end of the sentence, getting my mouth back on hers and slotting myself between her legs. Her laughter falls away when I reach down, sliding my hand over her clit and down to her entrance.

She is still so wet for me, her hips tilting up in response to my touch. I growl low in my throat and guide my cock to her, pressing in slowly and watching her head fall back against the pillows.

It's ecstasy, being inside her, and my entire body thrums with pleasure, watching her close her eyes and clearly enjoy it as much as I do. My hands find her hips, and I hold her as I drive in, hitching my knees up to get a better purchase on the bed as I tilt her hips and bury myself deeper and deeper inside her.

I have never met a woman like Lola before, so it makes sense that this sex feels different. I'm inside her, and I want to stay here forever, watching her gasp and moan and whisper my name. I want to wake up every morning and find her body next to mine. I want to wake her up in the middle of the night, sleepily come together, and fuck until we drift off again, tangled in each other.

In all my years and all the women I've brought home, taken to a hotel room, or fucked in a hallway, I have never wanted that. The thought makes me both terrified and exhilarated at once.

I could have her. She's within reach. The only thing stopping me is this stupid fake dating scheme, but what about when it's done? We see it through, don't let anyone know we caved and got physical, and then wait a month before going public for real.

Burying my face in the crook of her neck, I let out a noise that's stuck somewhere between moaning and growling as I rock my hips into her. I won't stop until she's done and until she's wasted and wrung out, every ounce of sexual tension freed from her body.

Her hands grasp at my back and hips, her nails scraping over them. Then, slowly, so feather-light that I'm afraid I'll scare them away, her hands come up to either side of my face, her fingers drifting over the stubble there.

She pulls me down to her, and I slide my tongue into her mouth right as she comes, gasping into my mouth. It's the best feeling, like the breathless exhilaration you get when the wind is in your face.

I kiss her, hold her, and shudder inside her, grabbing her as soon as it's done and hauling her body against mine because I don't want her going anywhere.

This will not be like last time. I'll be damned if I wake up in the morning and find Lola Burke gone.