Addicted to Mr Parks (The Parks Series #2)(86)

“That hard enough?” he growled. I knew he wasn’t going as hard as he could. He wanted me to beg for it. Well, challenge accepted.

“No. Harder.”

“Oh, Princess.” God, his voice was husky, and I longed for his filthy words. “You drive me crazy.” He rammed into me so hard, he pushed out the air from my lungs. He gripped fiercely at my waist with one hand to stop me rising up the bed and pressed his other against the wall above my head. I had absolutely no control over my body. It was damp from head to toe, sweating, tensing. My muscles aching deliciously all over.

As I offered my pelvis, my hips met his exquisite drives. He accepted my offer and moved his big hands around to my backside to push me up off the bed and onto his dick.

“You feel perfect. So f*cking perfect,” he groaned.


My body relished the feel of him, warmed by his praise.

His tempo was precise, relentless, and fast, and I felt an orgasm building between every thrust. “Wade, I’m almost there. Harder.”

“Do you not want to feel your legs tomorrow, baby?” he panted, pushing into me so brutally he was sexually grunting. The delectable noises vibrated through my aching bones.

“No.”

Parks gritted his teeth and picked up his pace. “Fucking hell.” His body was pushing and working over its limits, and I loved that he could take me over that threshold.

“Wade!” I cried out piercingly as I came around him, my orgasm jostling through my body violently. The severe pleasure that had built up was letting go and knocking me for six, and I had no control over it. My body had no way of supporting my climax.

Parks wasn’t far behind. His strong frame stiffened. His grip on my body tightened. “Oh baby,” he moaned, falling into my body, his breath humid against my neck. Liquid burst between our legs, and our bodies trembled as we rode out our orgasms together.

My body was lax, my limbs falling lifelessly against their restraints. “Wow,” I panted.

“Jesus, Princess. Sex with you feels like I was put on this earth for that purpose alone.”

I heaved out a laugh, almost feeling breathless because of his gorgeously built body lying on top of mine. “That’s a damn good purpose. Will you untie me so I can feel you?” I asked in the sweetest way. His smirk showed me he knew what I was up to. Making a point of looking at his watch, he shook his head, his gorgeous, dark hair swaying.

“I have another ten hours with you yet.”

I squealed when he caught my hip and flipped me onto my stomach. The restrains pulled tighter as they twisted.

“I don’t think I can survive this,” I teased.

His smirk was proud. “At least you’ll die a happy woman, Princess.”





Chapter

Twenty-Eight





Stepping off the plane was a task in itself. I’d been utterly and thoroughly worshiped, f*cked, and teased for eleven hours straight, and I was sore and aching like a bitch. Never mind jet lag. When we left London it was evening, then it was morning in America. Gone was cold, windy London, and here was gorgeously boiling America. “Exhausted” was an understatement. I couldn’t even remember getting into the limo that took us to the WParks Hotel in Beverly Hills.

Dragging my feet, I walked alongside Parks into the hotel and came face-to-face with the most spectacular lobby. It woke me right up. The golds and creams were a typical colour for the WParks Hotels, and the one in Beverly Hills was huge with a sort of French theme to it. I counted sixteen glass crystal chandeliers in total. There were also giant Persian rugs on top of white marble floors and vast amounts of the biggest glass vases I had ever seen with gold and white flowers spilling over the top. Obviously synthetic, but they were beautiful.

“Ready for bed?” Parks returned to me with the key card one of the employees in the lobby took care of our bags.

“Yes.” I yawned.

Parks took my hand and led me into a gold lift. He, himself, looked a little tired, his hair sexily dishevelled and his gorgeous, green eyes a little red.

When he took me into the hotel suite, my mouth fell open. It was a room fit for a princess. A gold bedframe. Luxury gold silk sheets with endless amounts of cushions. Golden silk drapes above the bed. A chaise lounge. Old-style lamps. Luxury furnishings. It was perfection.

“It looks like something from Downton Abbey.”

Parks ignored my gawking and began to undress me. “You need sleep, Princess.”

And that I did.

I remember waking up and thinking I had never slept so well. The bed was so comfortable, I wanted to live in it. Stretching out my arms and blinking at the gorgeous sun beaming in from the panoramic windows, I quickly did a check for Parks around the room with my eyes. Sitting at a desk with an open laptop was where I caught him. He hadn’t noticed I was awake, so I was revelling in watching that concentrated scowl as he tapped away vigorously on the keys.

But it wasn’t long before he sensed me watching him and turned to me. “Morning, Princess. How did you sleep?”

“Good.” As I sat up in bed, my gaze caught the antique clock hanging on the wall. “It’s two in the afternoon?” He let me sleep in that long?

“You didn’t fall to sleep until eight a.m., Evelyn.”

Shaking my head confused, I fell back down into bed. “This time difference malarkey is crazy. How long have you been awake?” I was still damn yawning. I had a cheek.