Broken Wings (A Romantic Suspense)(62)

“Of course. Come this way, let’s get you settled in.”

Jack shrugs and we follow her. He fills out the register. I feel a weird urge to correct him when he records me as Ellie Marshall. This place goes all the way, keeping a big register book where all the guests sign their names. Real keys, too. She takes one and leads us upstairs.

Our room looks over out over the ocean. There’s a small balcony with a cast-iron railing, a huge brass bed, and that’s it. No television or anything like that.

“Breakfast starts at nine, and we serve until… Well, you’ll probably be the only ones here until the weekend. Just don’t stay in bed too long.”

She gives us a sly look. “Need help with your baggage?”

“Yeah,” Jack says.

From the voices, I assume her husband helps him carry it all up, but I never see the man. Jack drops in a side chair and his head lolls back. He lets out a long groan and stretches his legs.

“Lots of driving,” he says, yawning. “Tired.”

“Shower?”

“You first,” he says, waving his hand.

I shrug and open the closet. The owners have kindly provided his-and-hers robes. I slip into mine, boldly undressing right in front of Jack before I grab a towel.

I barely make it into the bathroom before he grabs the door and follows me in. It’s a tiny room for such a big house, a little cramped with just the two of us. There’s just a shower cabinet, no tub.

I hang my robe on the hook without a word. Jack does the same and we stand there naked and shivering while the hot water starts to stream from the showerhead.

Once inside we press into each other to stay under the warm water. It’s surprisingly cold in here. Jack grabs the soap, pulls me against him, and starts lathering up my back. We take turns with it, writhing around each other in the hot water. By the time we’re done I feel a hot need between my legs, and Jack’s cock is hard as a rock. It keeps bumping into me. He almost looks embarrassed when it does.

I like feeling him all slippery and soapy. His skin is so warm, hotter than the water itself. The feeling of the water running between us when I step back from him makes my heart flutter.

Jack stands behind me while I turn in place and rinse myself off. I have no choice but to grind against him in the narrow confines of the shower cabinet. He does the same. When he rinses his back he holds me in his arms and warms me with his body, but my back still gets cold until he rubs it with his hands.

We dry off and swaddle ourselves in robes quickly. There’s a gas fireplace in the room. Jack turns it on with a whump and it quickly begins to heat the small space. After a few minutes I shrug out of my robe and sit on an ottoman near the fire, slowly drying my limbs with a hand towel.

“You are so f*cking sexy,” Jack purrs as he gently dries my hair.

Once we’ve dried off, he peels back the covers. There are heavy blankets on the bed, so I don’t bother putting anything on before I slip in. Jack doesn’t, either. It feels strange to even lie covered in bed naked. I don’t sleep naked and the only time I’ve ever really been unclothed in bed is with him.

I turn on my side. Jack takes me in his arms, holding me from behind.

He presses his cock inside me slowly and finds me wet and ready. He spoons up against my back and holds there, his throbbing cock filling me. When he starts to thrust the motion is gentle and slow, like the waves lapping the shore. I find a steady rhythm with him, moving my hips in time with his to guide his hardness against just the right spots.

It’s lazy and more relaxing than our last, frantic session. I like it both ways, I realize. He’s very quiet except for the occasional gentle moan in my ear, and I keep my mouth closed, straining not to cry out when he sends a shock wave of pleasure through my body. He reaches to stroke my clit but I pull his hand away.

This one is about the journey, not the destination.

His hands go to my breasts instead. I rest my hands on his and draw my legs up as he starts to f*ck me faster, grunting. He surrounds me, draws me into himself, overwhelms me. The power in his thrusts makes me shudder, from the intensity of his cock filling me and the straining, shivering restraint he shows.

I whisper a single word, “Harder.”

His thrusts grow more urgent now. I guide his hand between my legs and let out an excited yelp. I don’t have to offer much guiding. The feeling of his wrist flexing under my hand while his fingers slowly circle my clit makes my eye roll back. He begins to pick up speed, letting out a little grunt with every thrust.

Come on, Jack.

“Come for me.”

I can almost hear his expression. He wraps his arms around me low and pleasures me with his hand while he thrusts faster and faster, giving in to himself as he takes his pleasure from my body. He strains and buries himself deep and I can feel his cock throb as he loses all control and explodes inside me.

My climax comes slowly in a wave that peaks with him still inside me. He doesn’t draw out at all. He keeps his cock in me and me in his arms and pulls the blankets over us.

“Sleep, honey.”

I love it when he calls me that. He starts to snore into my neck, drifting off before I do. I feel heavy, like my limbs are packed with sand.

Sleep takes me, too.

I wake up sprawled out on my back, the covers tucked up to my neck. It’s the scents that wake me. I smell bread and fresh eggs, and the tangy, meaty smell of sausage.