Indigo Nights (Nights #3)(28)

“Three years. Going on four.” Saying that never got old.

“Wow. That’s a long time without sex. I thought you must have still been in your first year.”

I laughed. “It is a long time. But now you’ve broken the seal. You’ve ruined me. I’d forgotten how good it could be.”

“My sweet, it was never this good, believe me.”

“You should know.” I smiled at him.

He raised an eyebrow at me in a question.

“I’m just saying.” I shrugged. “You look like a guy who had a lot to compare it to.”

“You’re telling me I’m a man-whore?”

I looked up over his shoulder, considering my answer. “Not a man-whore. Just a man who’s had a lot of women.”



Dylan

I’d just been called a slut. I didn’t normally give a shit what anyone thought of me, but for some reason I didn’t want Beth to think badly of me.

“I suppose I’ve seen a few women naked.” Since Alicia, sex had been about taking pleasure. It worked and I enjoyed it. But none had been as pleasurable as Beth. I’d forgotten how the physical could mix with the emotional to make it all the more powerful. Even from the first kiss, ours had been more than just a physical relationship. I couldn’t imagine even looking at Beth without having some kind of emotional response. “Does it bother you?”

“If it bothered me I wouldn’t have agreed to become one of them. I had a pretty good idea what I was getting myself into when I came to your room when our flight was cancelled.” She smiled but my gut twisted. I wanted her to know that she was different, that I wanted to talk to her, not just f*ck her. The more I found out about her, the more I wanted to know.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you that I rarely want to see a woman again after I’ve had sex with her?”

She laughed and sat up, swinging her legs off the bed. Was she leaving? The uncomfortable twist in my gut intensified. I was trying to distinguish her from the women I ordinarily slept with. “You just called yourself a man-whore. I’m going to get more cake. Want some?”

I followed Beth into the sitting room, taking a condom with me in case she wanted to get busy with that mousse again. Something outside the window had caught her eye. “Do you think they can see us?” I couldn’t help but follow her.

I dragged my eyes away from her smooth curves and out of the window at the skyscrapers opposite us. “Maybe.”

She placed her hands on the glass. “There are lights still on. People working late.”

I stood behind her, gliding my hands down her sides then over her belly and around her waist. She leaned back against me, instantly grabbing my cock’s attention.

“They’re working hard.” I pushed my hand down and reached for her clit. She sighed and swiveled her hips against my growing hard-on. I nudged her legs wider with my knee and she bent forward a fraction, the tiny movement snapping something in me.

She wanted to get f*cked against the window—with an audience.

Jesus, this girl.

“Do you like the thought that people are watching you?” I whispered into her ear.

“Yes.” Her voice cracked as I increased the pressure on her clit. “You do something to me. You make me wicked.”

The thought of having an impact on her, over and above making her come, sent blood rushing to my dick.

I dragged my cock along her crack and she pushed back against me. I clenched my jaw, trying to stay under control.

“But you’re mine to look at. Only mine.” Possession crashed over me in a wave.

I rolled on the condom and lined up the tip of my dick at her entrance.

She gasped. I’d pay to hear the sound of her anticipation over and over.

“Dylan, people might see.”

“I’m going to have you like this, and you’re going to love it. If anyone sees anything, they can’t possibly know how good it is. They can’t feel what we feel. They can guess, but only we know.”

“They can’t have me. They can only watch while you do.”

She got it. She understood how I needed to be special for her. I wanted to be different, wanted her to feel this energy between us—the familiarity, the passion, the trust.

I couldn’t hold back a second longer and pushed into her, trying to go slow, to be patient; clamping my eyes shut because I knew if I caught a glimpse of that swollen mouth or the reflection of her tits in the glass I’d f*ck her raw.

She groaned as my dick rammed into her. “So deep,” she whispered and her head tilted back, and I buried my face into her neck, breathing in that almond scent she had.

“Do you think they know how deep I am?”

“Oh God, Dylan.” I clasped my arm around her waist to support her.

“Answer me.”

“They can’t know. They can’t understand how good it feels.”

I pulled back, watching the sheen on my dick as it withdrew from her. She was always so wet whenever I went near her. Was she like that with all her lovers? Would she be that way with those who came after me?

Her whimpering broke my concentration. “You want more?”

“Please.” She sounded desperate. I knew I was. I thrust into her, driving her forward so her breasts pressed up against the glass and her forearms lay flat. Jesus, as much as I was enjoying the view from this side, any lucky f*cker watching her through the window must be getting images burned into his memory forever.