He fucked her slowly, slowly, in strokes designed to tease but not satisfy, until she was squirming so beautifully he had to sit back on his heels to watch his cock piston in and out of her. Draping her thighs over his bent knees, he gripped her hips and moved her over him in shallow thrusts. It had been years since he’d known the heat of a woman’s body around his, since he’d felt the overwhelming urge to claim someone as his own. Longer still since he’d been with someone who was willing to play these games with him, to surrender control, to let him command their pleasure as fully as his own.
“Derek,” she moaned, trying to impale herself on him further.
He dragged his eyes over her flushed skin until he met her gaze, the bright blue of her irises shimmering and hazy. “Something you need?”
She squirmed, huffed in frustration, but refused to say the words. He chuckled at the defiant way she clamped her mouth closed despite the sparkle in her eyes. He wished he had time to see how long he could keep her like this, how long she would let him be in control before she demanded what she wanted. If he were a betting man, he’d bet everything he owned she would be absolutely glorious in that moment.
But he was quickly running out of time if he wanted to shower and collect his luggage before he had to meet the band and head to the airport. He didn’t have time to ask about thetasteful black and white photograph of her in lingerie that hung above her bed, or the empty room across the hall, or how she’d ended up working in a dive bar in Rhode Island. He had just enough time to make her come.
He buried himself to the hilt and roughly pulled out again. Over and over as she thrashed in his grip, pushing herself harder and faster against him. “Take what you need, baby,” he ground out as his own impending orgasm shot sparks of electricity down his spine, demanding that he fuck her harder, faster. “Take it, little menace. Let me feel this perfect pussy strangle my cock.”
He tilted her hips, sliding in deeper, the new angle punching the breath from his lungs as her inner muscles grasped at his length.
“So close,” she whispered, her thighs shaking.
She reached between her legs, her fingers flying over her clit until she arched off the bed. He was mesmerized by the sight, unable to look away as she shattered around him, soaking them both in her pleasure. She cried out as he continued to fuck her, the pull of her climax tipping him over into his own, and he drove himself inside her one last time, filling the condom.
When at last his cock stopped pulsing and his skin stopped tingling, he withdrew, disposing of the condom and flopping down on the bed beside her. Jo giggled, a slow-building laugh of relief and joy and exhaustion, and reached over to pat him on the chest, her nails scratching through the smattering of chest hair there. He caught her hand and kissed her palm before pressing her hand against his pounding heart, his ownchuckle rumbling through him.
Easy.
Across the room, somewhere in the heap of clothing she’d torn off him the night before, his cell phone rang. He groaned and buried his face in the valley between her breasts. She laughed again, a soft, breathy sound, and raked her fingers through his hair. He wanted more of this—more uncomplicated and fun, more of not worrying about anything beyond the here and now. More of the guy he used to be.
“When do you need to leave?” she asked.
He glanced at the clock on her nightstand and groaned again, pressing his lips against her skin. “Twenty minutes.”
She tugged on his hair until he lifted his eyes to meet hers. “Next time you’re in town—” She broke off and his grin faltered when his phone started ringing again. “You need to get that?”
He nodded and rolled off the bed, digging his phone out of his pants pocket. Two calls in a row never meant anything good, but his stomach dropped when he saw the name on the screen. “Chelsea? Slow down, sugar. What’s wrong?”
Chapter 3
Jo’s stomach sank.
Chelsea.Sugar.
He had a girlfriend. Of course he did. Men who looked like him and could fuck like that were never single.
She swore under her breath and climbed out of bed, slamming open drawers in her search for clean underwear while Derek whispered into the phone on the other side of the room. As if she couldn’t hear him. Goddammit. She’d thought he was one of the good ones.
He glanced over his shoulder at her, his brow furrowing as he watched her hop on one foot in an attempt to step into her underwear, because like hell was going to stand there naked while he talked toChelsea. She stumbled and fell to the side, catching her shin on the edge of the bed with a curse.
Not that she cared who he talked to. It was just a one-nightstand. Just sex.
Albeit really great sex.
The kind of sex that would require at least two margaritas to tell the girls about. Sex so good she wasn’t sure she had words to do it justice.
And now he’d gone and ruined it by being a lying, cheating cheater.
“No, I’m listening.” Derek turned away from Jo and rifled through the pile of clothing at his feet until he found his boxer briefs. “Chels, I’m on my way to the airport. I’ll be in California all week. You know this.” He pulled up his underwear and stepped into his pants. “Is she alright?” Another pause while he hunted for his shirt, balancing the phone between his ear and his shoulder. “No, of course you have to. I’m sorry. I’ll figure it out.”
Jo yanked an oversized t-shirt over her head and leaned against her dresser, arms crossed as Derek finished dressing.
“Sugar, don’t cry. Meet me at the airport in two hours. Yes, I— It’ll be okay. I’ll take care of it. See you soon.”
He hung up the phone and dropped his hand to his side, his head drooping forward.