Sure Shot (Brooklyn #4)(73)

“If I recall,” she says, sliding onto a leather seat, “you didn’t have to do much arm-twisting that first time, either.”

We make out like teenagers all the way back to Brooklyn. In my hotel room, Bess strips me down and gives me a back rub in the middle of the bed, while the Manhattan lights twinkle in the distance. “Are you going to miss this view?” she asks as her hands do amazing things to my shoulder muscles.

“No,” I say quickly. “I need a kitchen and some more space. Besides, I want to live across the street from you.”

Soft lips meet the back of my neck. I close my eyes and let out a happy sigh. Spending time with Bess is everything I didn’t know I needed. I still don’t deserve her. But I’m learning to live with the guilt.

And Bess is happy, too. I can’t deny how she lights up when we’re together. Or how sweet and happy she looks as she falls asleep in my arms. Sometimes I lie awake just listening to her breathe in the dark. And I wouldn’t trade the sleepy weight of her against my body for anything.

Now she stretches out on top of my bare back and lets out a contented sigh. “The decorator wants to know if you prefer light-colored towels or dark. I told her you wouldn’t have a preference.”

“True story,” I grunt. “As long as I can dry off my hiney with them, it’s all good.”

“This designer is fantastically efficient. The day you move in, the delivery trucks are going to descend. By cocktail hour you’ll have an apartment that’s more comfortably furnished than any other in New York.”

“Mmm.” I reach back and catch Bess’s hand in mine. “Have I told you what I want to do first in that new apartment?”

“I believe you’ve mentioned it several times.”

I grin against the pillow. “Good. The first thing I’m going to do is cook Tex-Mex.”

“Wait a minute!” Bess sputters. “I thought the first thing you were going to do is me, in that shower.”

“That’s what we’re doing while the enchiladas bake.”

I can feel Bess’s laughter against my back. “Fine. I guess I can’t argue with that. Now roll over.”

She slides off my body, and I do as she asks. “Why am I the only one who’s naked?” I complain as I look up at her in the dark. She’s wearing a Bruisers T-shirt and panties.

“No whining.” She leans down and begins to kiss a trail down my chest.

By the time she nears my cock, I’m hard and waiting for the first brush of her lips. Bess doesn’t make me wait. She takes me in hand and licks a slow path up my shaft until I make a desperate noise. My fingers find their way into her hair. With a bossy grip, I pull her closer to my cock.

Bess gives a muffled chuckle as she takes me into the wet heaven of her mouth.

“Fuck yes,” I groan, my hand tightening on her hair. “Take more. Take all of it.”

But she takes her time, weighing me against her tongue, teasing my thighs with silken fingertips. Slowly, she tightens her lips, and I let out a hot gasp as she finally begins to take long, lovely pulls with her sweet mouth.

I relax against the bed, trying not to get too riled up too soon. But she’s relentless—licking and sucking and stroking my sac with soft hands. “Baby,” I warn. “You’re going to make me come.”

“Mmm,” she purrs, looking up at me with bedroom eyes.

“Honey,” I gasp, clenching my muscles against the urge to come. “Come here. I need you. Take off that shirt.”

Bess sits up and shucks off her T-shirt and bra. God, the view. Waves of hair tumble down to frame her pale breasts.

“Touch yourself,” I rasp. This is the stuff of fantasies, and I can’t get enough.

Bess drops one hand to stroke my cock, and uses the other one to cup her breast and pinch her nipple. Then she tips her head back and lets out a hot sigh.

“Come here,” I order. “Lose the panties.”

She disobeys me. Dropping down one more time, she swallows my cock to the back of her throat and moans. This time I don’t have enough willpower to hold back. When she looks up at me again—heat in her eyes, bare breasts bouncing against my thighs as she works me over—I just lose it. My hips buck and I let out a shout of satisfaction as I come inside her decadent mouth.

“Goddamn.” I’m still panting when Bess returns from the bathroom a few minutes later. I have an arm thrown over my eyes, and my chest is heaving. “That was fun. But it’s gonna take me a while to recover.”

“Take as much time as you need,” Bess says, climbing into bed. “Because I got my period a few hours ago, and I’m off the roster for a few days.”

“Oh.” I roll my sated body towards hers, my arms reaching out to pull her in. “You feel okay?” I trail a hand across the smooth skin of her belly.

“Sure. Advil is a miracle drug.” She makes herself comfortable, lying beside me, an arm over my chest. “I’m sleepy. And you’re my favorite pillow.” She kisses my chin.

I stroke her back and hold her close. Bess seems perfectly content right now, but I’m suddenly awake and on edge. Day one of the cycle. My big, dumb head can’t forget how this works. I wonder if I’m scheduled to be in town on day fourteen. I seriously feel the impulse to climb out of bed and check the travel schedule.