Stealing Rose (The Fowler Sisters #2)(31)

Soon.

Which is crazy because I’m not one for blow jobs, especially with a man I don’t know very well. But I feel like with this situation, I need to take advantage whenever I can. That the opportunity to be with Caden could be as fleeting as the weather here in London. One day sunny, the next day rain.

One elusive encounter with Caden in a bathroom, then poof. He’s gone.

So I’ll take what I can get. Take what I want. And right now, what I want more than anything else is Caden … and I still don’t even know his last name.

“Get on the bed, Rose,” he says, his voice this deep, slightly rough command, and I love it. So much that I don’t say a word in reply. I merely do as I’m told, crawling onto the mattress on all fours, my ass in the air, right in front of him. “Yeah, stay just like that, on your hands and knees.”

Pervert. I knew he’d like that. Not that I really think he’s a pervert because if he is, then so am I. I’m the one who invited him back to my hotel room. I’m the one who sucked his cock into my mouth until he came all over my lips and chest. I have never, ever let a man do that to me before, but I let him. Practically a stranger, a man who drives me crazy, and not always in a good way.

What does that say about me? What is happening to me?

“Your ass is perfection,” he says just as he places his hand on my right butt cheek. I still myself against his gentle caress, melting at the way his fingers slide lovingly over the globe of my ass. “I can smell you, Rose. I know you want me.”

I remain silent. There’s no reason to protest or argue, because I do want him. I’m drenched with wanting him and in minutes, if not seconds, I will have him. He’ll drive that huge cock inside my body and take me with no shame. And I’ll let him. If I don’t watch it, I’ll probably be begging him.

And I’m sure he’d love that.

His fingers draw closer and closer to my * as he strokes my ass and I wait with held breath, dying for him to touch me there. Slide one of those long, talented fingers inside of me, testing me. The sudden image that pops in my brain, of Caden behind me on his knees, powering inside my welcoming body, his hips slapping against my ass with his every thrust, sends a fresh wave of arousal coursing through me.

“Your skin is so smooth,” he observes in that deep, mesmerizing voice that has me on edge. I close my eyes and focus on the way he’s touching me. More fingers come into play as they curve around my ass, closer to my *, and then he’s touching me there. Teasing my folds, tracing the top of them, a barely there caress that has me exhaling softly, lifting my hips the slightest bit to direct his fingers where I really want them.

Deeper.

“You like that?” he asks, sounding amused. Sounding aroused. He knows I like it, so I don’t bother answering. At least, I don’t answer with words.

A whimper escapes me when he slides his finger inside my body, holding it there before he slowly withdraws it. Then he adds another finger, pumping them inside my * just as I push against his hand. My head swims with incoherent thoughts. All I can focus on is his touch, his fingers, three of them now, deep inside. He drags them back and forth, sinking farther with every thrust, until I’m working against him, riding his hand.

Riding toward the orgasm that already hovers just out of my reach.

The afternoon sunlight shines bright in the room and I can hear an occasional honk coming from the street outside, the rush of the traffic, the rumbling roar of a city bus. Normal, everyday sounds that mean life carries on around us.

While a man works my body with his skilled fingers, a man I barely know. A man who’s making me feel everything more intensely than I’ve ever experienced it before.

The mattress moves when he shifts position and then his mouth is on my backside, kissing and licking my flesh, nibbling it. All while his fingers still move inside of me, his thumb stretching up to rub my clit, his other hand holding my hip. A moan moves through me when he blazes a trail across my skin, his mouth drawing closer and closer, until he’s right there … oh my God, right f*cking there.

He licks me at the same time he removes his fingers from my *. I feel the loss keenly, a whimper escaping me, but then both of his hands are gripping my hips and he’s sliding beneath me, his tongue playing with my folds, his lips wrapping around my clit.

“Ride my face,” he instructs me and it sounds so dirty, God. But a fresh gush of wetness floods my * at his command and I do as he says, backing up against his face until I can feel the stubble on his chin tickling my sensitive flesh, his tongue spearing me, his fingers coming back into play as well.

It’s sensory overload. I open my eyes and turn to look at the large mirror above the dresser on the opposite wall. I can see myself and oh, I look a mess. My hair everywhere, my pale skin blotchy and red, my nipples hard as my breasts sway with my movements. I sit up a little, the better to see myself, and that’s when Caden’s head comes into view, his mussed hair between my legs, his big hand gripping my hip so hard his fingers dent my flesh.

“Oh.” The little sound falls from my lips, drawing his attention, and he stops what he’s doing so I have no choice but to look down at him. He’s smiling up at me, his lips wet, his chin wet too, and he looks so devious, like a wicked boy who’s just been caught doing something extra naughty, that I can’t help but smile at him in return.