That One Night: A Pucking Around Prequel Novella (9)

He shudders as he sinks against me, grazing his teeth up my neck.

“You like that plan?” I tease, my fingers combing through his hair. My other hand is still inside the top of his pants, holding him to me. “Are you hungry for my pussy? You want a taste?”

“Fucking starving,” he replies, his large hands fumbling with the zipper at the small of my back.

“Then what am I?” I whisper against his lips, biting down lightly on the bottom one.

He hisses, jerking down the zipper until he’s exposed my ass to the room. “Ungh—doctor. Are you a doctor?”

I smile up at him. “Good boy. Now you know something about me.”

He blinks at me, his lips wet with kisses. “Wait—seriously?”

I nod.

His face splits into a grin. “You’re a doctor? Like a real one?”

I laugh. “I’m not a TV doctor or a doctor of furniture upholstery. I’m a real, honest to god, licensed-to-practice-medicine doctor.”

His grin widens as he drags a hand through his dark hair. “That is so fucking hot.” He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “God, you’re so far out of my league. What the hell are you doin’ with a guy like me?”

He’s trying to make a joke, but I sense the undercurrent of truth in his words. He’s actually confused. I step in, brushing my thumb over his lips. “You’re a lost boy, remember? You’re meant to be finding me.”

His forehead rests against mine as we breathe each other in. After a moment, he lifts away, gazing down at me with those gorgeous hazel eyes. “Can I please fuck you now?”

I take a step back and reach up with both hands, unhooking the clasps of my halter top. I drop it and give my hips a little shimmy. The whole jumpsuit slinks to the floor in a whisper of black fabric, leaving me naked. “I thought you’d never ask.”





5





I’m never leaving this room. Bar the door. Seal us in here, brick by brick. We’ll leave a spot at the bottom so the hotel staff can bring us food and water and like, fresh towels and shit. But I want to stay in here forever.

My Mystery Girl—wait, scratch that—Doctor Mystery Girl is standing in front of me naked and my dick has just fainted from overexcitement. She’s perfect. Smart and funny and so beautiful I wanna shout from the tallest building in Seattle that she’s mine…well, at least for tonight.

I don’t even realize I’ve moved until I’ve got her in my arms. My hands explore fast, feeling every inch of her I can, smoothing up her ribs, weighing both her breasts, skating over her curvy hips to squeeze her perfect ass.

Fuck, I love the weight of her, the feel of her—so smooth and soft, so fevered with need. She wants me. Hell, she craves me. Is she wet for me? I have to know. I grab her by the hips, hoisting her up. “Arms around me, baby girl.”

She gasps, her arms snaking around my neck as her naked legs wrap around my waist. I’m still fully clothed and I’m carrying this naked goddess like a koala over to the bed. I drop her down and she inches back. The placement of her hands press her breasts up and out towards me. It’s too good of an invitation to pass up. I bend over the bed, my hands sinking into the mattress to either side of her as I cover her tit with my mouth, sucking on her rosy, pink nipple.

“Oh—fuck,” she cries, arching into me. She holds herself up with one hand, the other digging into my hair to hold me to her. I lick and tease, sucking on that full tit, feeling her pant beneath me.

“Tell me what you like,” I say, popping off her to hold her gaze. “You like slow and sweet? You like it rough? Tell me what you need to get there, baby, and I’ll be your new MVP.”

She drops back to her elbows, her breasts still in my face. I can see that sexy little chest tattoo now. It starts between her breasts and trails down a little past her sternum—a girlie design of lines and dots ending in a simple lotus flower.

And yeah, I know it’s a lotus. You don’t grow up with Amy Compton, licensed yoga guru, and not know your way around a lotus. Fuck, I’m going for it. I’ve wanted to do this since the bar. I duck my head down, tracing the tattoo with my tongue, trailing up between her breasts.

She shivers beneath me, her knees squeezing my sides.

“Tell me, baby.”

“I need—more,” she pants. “Stop being so damn polite and fuck me. Take me and use me until I’m a dripping mess. You can spank me, tease me, use any hole. And if you expect to only go one round, you better adjust your expectations because—”

I silence her with a savage kiss, my weight pressing down on her as I own her dirty fucking mouth. I swear to god, I’ve died and gone to heaven. Of course, my perfect girl likes to play. I bet she’s got more kinks than a garden hose.

God wouldn’t place a woman this gorgeous in my path only to have her be a plain vanilla bean. He wouldn’t put her in a room with the same number as my fucking jersey. I’ve been number 42 since college. It’s my lucky number. And now this girl is looking up at me, naked and begging for it, saying ‘use any hole.’

Oh, baby girl, just you wait.

I push off her and stand up.

She pants, eyes wide, watching me.

I hold her gaze as I jerk my shirt off one-handed, dropping it to the floor. Her eyes go wide, appreciating my body. She fucking better. I’ve worked this body into peak performance mode, honing and shaping it seven days a week, fifty-two weeks a year since I was fifteen years old. This body is worth seven million dollars a year.