The Do-Over (The Miles High Club #4)(74)

Soon we are hard at it. The bed is hitting the wall, and I can see nothing but stars.

I can hardly breathe, it’s so good.

“Hayden,” he moans. “Oh . . . I’m going to come.” He moans. “So fucking hard.”

Hearing his husky, aroused voice does things to me, and my body contracts as I spiral out of control, headfirst into a killer orgasm. “Ahhh,” I cry out.

“Fuck.” He moans as he slams into me, hard and piston fast, and then he holds himself deep. I feel the telling jerk as he comes deep inside my body.

We kiss as we move together, completely emptying our bodies, and he drops his head to my chest. Our skin is wet with perspiration as we pant. I feel him smile.

So close, so perfect.

I stare up at the ceiling, horrified.

I’m going to need a moment.





Chapter 16


I drag my eyes open to see big brown eyes. Christopher is lying on his side and leaning up onto his elbow, watching me.

I frown. “What are you doing?”

“Admiring the view.” He smiles and leans over and kisses me. “Good morning.”

“Hmm, morning,” I grumble with my eyes closed. Why is he so perky this early?

I begin to doze again, and I can feel he’s still watching me, and I open one eye. Yep . . . sure enough, still staring. “Go back to sleep.”

“I’m hungry.”

It’s too early for this shit. I roll over and put my back to him. “Raid the minibar.”

“No.”

I ignore him.

“Let’s go out to breakfast.” He taps me on the shoulder with his finger.

I shrug him off. “Don’t.”

He does it again and again until he’s doing it continually.

“Why are you so annoying?”

“I’m fucking starving over here.”

“You are not starving, Christopher. We ate last night.”

“I didn’t eat much.”

“Well, that’s your stupid fault.” I try to continue sleeping.

“No, it’s your fault,” he replies.

“How is it my fault?”

“I didn’t eat much all day yesterday because I was nervous.”

I smile into my pillow. He leans over me and pulls me back into his arms, his lips on my temple. “Feed me.”

“Let me sleep for half an hour.”

“No.” He rolls me over onto my back and pulls my top leg over his body, and he gently runs his fingertips over the lips of my sex. “How are your particulars this morning?”

I smirk. “Particulars?”

“At my service”—he taps my sex—“and ready for duty?”

“Absolutely not.” I close my legs. “My particulars are annihilated and in no shape for war.”

He chuckles. “Wimp.” He bends and kisses me there. “What if I kiss it better?”

I smile. “No.”

“Okay, I’ll settle for second prize.”

“What’s second prize?”

“A breakfast date.”

“Hmm.” My eyes are still closed. “Why don’t you go and practice your wanking in the shower like a good boy?”

“No more wanking.” He bends and bites me on the behind. “I have my very own sex doll now.” He bites me again. “And she fucks like a demon.”

“You’re about to see how demonic she can be,” I reply dryly.

He rolls me over onto my back and holds my arms over my head and looks down at me. “After we eat, we can do whatever you want for the rest of the day.”

His dark hair hangs over his face. His big brown eyes are playful and full of fun.

I smile up at him. “I had a wonderful night last night.”

He kisses me softly, and I feel him harden up against me. “Me too.”

“Does that thing ever go down?”

“Occasionally.” He smiles as he kisses me again.

I can’t have sex. I’m seriously sore.

“Aren’t we going out for breakfast?” I ask.

“Yes, but now I’m hungry for something else.” He licks my lips, and I feel it all the way down there.

“How often do you like to have sex?” I ask.

“In this situation”—he pumps me with his hips—“I imagine twice a day.”

“You’re a sex maniac.” I smirk. “What is this situation?”

“Like . . . my very own fuck doll.”

I smile goofily. Who would have ever thought I would like to be called his fuck doll? Three months ago, I would have died at the mere thought. Now I see it as a term of endearment.

“You mean girlfriend?”

He chuckles. “Girlfriend is so last year. I prefer the term fuck doll. Much more diverse.”

I giggle. “And what are the terms and conditions that come with your fuck doll?”

He frowns as if contemplating his answer. “Well . . . I’ll keep her well fed . . . with cock, of course.” He pumps me with his hips.

“Didn’t see that answer coming.” I smile.

He chuckles. “And I’ll wash her clothes.”

“Wank on her bed?” I act serious.