Big Shot(30)

The look in his eyes was undecipherable, and his expression seemed . . . off, or maybe she was just imagining things or reading too much into his quiet demeanor. But he hadn’t refused her idea, and she took that as a sign that he was totally on board with her proposition. What guy wouldn’t be?

Done talking, she leaned closer and touched her lips to his. “Now that that discussion is out of the way, how do you feel about me getting you off just like this?” she asked, giving his stiff cock a long, slow tug as she kissed the corner of his mouth, then along his jaw before looking into his eyes again. “I’ve always wanted to watch a guy come in my hand.”

His gaze grew hot, and after a hard thrust into her snug grasp, he unwrapped her fingers from his dick, brought her hand to his mouth, and licked her palm to make it slippery and wet. Then he put it back in place, his shaft even harder than it was a few seconds ago.

Still lying facing one another, he shoved his fingers into her hair and brought her mouth back to just beneath his. He lightly nipped at her bottom lip, then soothed the love bite with his tongue. “Fuck me in your fist, baby,” he ordered in that dominant tone she was beginning to love. “Do it hard and slow. Make it as nice and tight as your * feels, because that’s what I’m going to be imagining as you get me off.”

And yeah, he kissed her with that dirty, filthy mouth. His lips pushed hers apart, and his tongue swept in to inundate her senses while she attempted to overwhelm his with the rhythmic jerk of her hand snug and slick around his girth. His tongue plundered as deep as his thrusts, and his hips started to move, pistoning faster, harder against her palm.

Masturbating Wes was the hottest thing she’d ever done to a man, making him wild with nothing more than her hand providing the pleasure while he pumped uncontrollably, until abruptly, he tore his mouth from hers and pushed her onto her back, momentarily breaking the contact of her hand on his cock as he moved over her. He braced his hands on either side of her shoulders on the bed and poised his body above hers, the heavy tip of his shaft skimming along her belly.

“I’m so f*cking close. Finish me off,” he demanded harshly. “Do it. Make me come hard. Now.”

She took him in her palm again, realizing that he’d changed positions so that she could watch as he climaxed. And it didn’t take long, just a few more tight strokes, and he growled and shuddered and threw his head back as his entire body began to shake . . . and she had a front-row seat to it all. The straining cords in his neck. His heaving chest. The rippling of his abs. The shallow jerking of his hips as he kept driving harder, faster, deeper into her fist.

And finally, she felt the pulsing along the underside of his erection right before his orgasm burst free, along with a long, hoarse groan. Hot spurts of thick, milky fluid erupted from his cock, surging as high as her breasts and eventually pooling onto her stomach. It was spectacular to watch him lose control and to know that he’d done so because of her.

A secret little smile touched her lips as he lowered himself on top of her, the sticky mess between them slickening their skin and making an even bigger mess.

She pressed against his shoulders, which did nothing to make him move. “Arggh, seriously, Wes?”

He chuckled and lifted his head from her neck, his lashes half-mast, his expression sated. “Yes, seriously. You wanted wild, anything-goes sex, and coming all over your tits and stomach definitely qualifies, and it was hotter than f*ck.”

Okay, she couldn’t argue with that. Everything about what had just happened was emblazoned on her mind, an erotic fantasy for her to retrieve later when it was just her and Liam again.

He smiled down at her, slow and sexy, and she hated that her heart skipped a beat when nothing about her heart should have been involved in this fling. “Besides, cleaning up this mess gives us a great excuse to have shower sex. What do you say about that, Minx?”

Her inner hussy gave an enthusiastic hell yeah, and Natalie grinned right back at him. “I’m totally in.”





Chapter Eleven





Wes wasn’t sure why being Natalie’s transition guy bothered him so much. But two days after their night together, on the drive to pick her up for the Sunday afternoon surprise birthday party for a friend that he’d asked her to accompany him to, he was still thinking about the fact that she was using him to get over her ex.

Okay, she hadn’t said those words exactly, but the fact that she was using him to transition her way back into finding a suitable guy to date . . . he figured it was the same damn thing. Normally, the whole let’s have fun and not take things too seriously rule was his mantra. Words he lived by when it came to all the women who’d passed through his life, since his high school days.

So, now that the situation was reversed and Natalie had laid out the terms of their affair, why did being relegated to being her f*ck buddy make him feel so . . . annoyed?

God, it was all so confusing and ridiculous. As Connor or one of the other guys would say, he was acting like a f*cking girl—wanting more time with Natalie, thinking about her when they weren’t together, sending her amusing and sexy texts throughout the day and anxiously awaiting her witty responses.

One night of f*cking his best friend’s sister and his business adversary—the one woman he’d sworn he’d never touch that way—and he was like a goddamn puppy needing her attention, waiting for a pat on the head, a scratch behind the ear, or a freakin’ belly rub. He smirked to himself at that latter thought, because judging by the hand job she’d given him two nights ago, he was pretty sure that Natalie would give really good belly rubs.