Sinful Longing (Sinful Nights, #3)(20)

“Eighty-seventh? That’s it? I need to work harder.”

“Speaking of hard—”

Her words were silenced as he buried himself in her. “Oh f*ck, Elle,” he said on a groan, as he savored that intense moment when he was first inside the woman he craved. He picked up the pace, meeting her eyes in the mirror. Her amber eyes were glossy and full of lust, and her cheeks were rosy from the glow of her first orgasm. “I love looking at you as I make you come. I want to watch you fall apart again as I f*ck you,” he said, low and husky in her ear.

“I want that too. So badly.”

Setting a fevered rhythm, the second hand ticking in their ears, he stroked into her. She moaned on each thrust, panting as he filled her. “You tasted so damn good on my fingers,” he said huskily. “I can’t wait to have you. When I do, I’m going to show you exactly why you came so many times alone at night thinking of me.”

“I did, Colin. I did,” she said, swiveling her hips as he pumped into her. “I thought about f*cking your face all the time.”

Oh hell. Those words were like a straight shot of lust through his bloodstream. They set him on fire. They flipped switches all over. He groaned deeply. “I bet you were saying all sorts of filthy things to me in your head. I bet as you f*cked yourself alone in bed you were saying Oh Colin, f*ck me with your tongue. I want to ride your face. Did you say that?”

Her body answered with an epic shudder, a wild tightening against his dick, which was so damn hard inside her. Her slick walls gripped him as he slammed in and out of her, pulling back so only the tip was in her. He paused momentarily, then whispered in a low, dirty growl in her ear, “Colin, I’m going to come all over your face. I’m going to come so f*cking hard on your face,” he said to her, and her eyes glazed over, and her body trembled, and everything, everything, everything in her reaction told him he was not only right, but she was there, finding her way to a second coming. He let go of her hip, and glided his finger across her clit. “Say it,” he commanded, as he f*cked her deep and rubbed her clit.

“I’m going to come so f*cking hard,” she said, her voice falling to pieces as she came on him. She started to cry out in ecstasy, but he clamped his palm over her mouth. He f*cked her furiously, holding in all her screams, keeping her quiet as his balls tightened and his own orgasm tore through his body, consuming him like a torrential storm ripping across the coastline.

He cursed as he came hard.

He wanted to collapse onto her, to wrap his arms around her and just exist in this sated, blissful state. He looped his hands around her sexy waist, holding her close. He brushed his lips against her collarbone, and she shivered then flashed him a small smile.

“Attention, the doors are closing in two minutes. Thank you for visiting the mob museum. Bugsey is not alone tonight. We have just received word that Al Capone is haunting the premises.”

“Al Capone!” Elle said in a stage whisper. “Oh no!”

Quickly, Colin pulled out and disposed of the condom. They straightened up, and a minute later, walked to the exit, thanking the ticket taker and the security guard who locked the door behind them.

On the front steps of the museum, Elle grabbed his hand. “Let’s play some poker, Colin Scotty Sloan.”

He wished he didn’t like it so much when she kept her fingers locked through his as they spent the next hour wandering through Fremont Street, playing slots, then a round at the five dollar tables.

When it was time for her to go, he walked her to her car. “I had a really great time,” she said, but before he could say “me, too,” she brushed her hands together, as if she were wiping the evening away. The night was over. It had a before and an after. “That’s that. Now I’m off to be a mom.”

Her voice changed. Her tone shifted. Her whole demeanor transformed. She was moving from Elle the sexy, wanton woman who was dirty and bold and who liked to f*ck hard, to the other Elle.

The one who had no room in her life for him. The one who erected walls and ramparts to keep him out. His heart sagged, knowing he might never be able to knock those down. They might simply be unscalable because of how he’d lived and who he’d been before her.

Choices had consequences. Every single one. He’d made some terrible choices when he was younger, and even though those days were far in the rearview mirror, he was feeling the repercussions as he walked her to her car and said good night before she drove off to her real life.

*

Fun.

That was good, plain fun.

That was basically the best night she’d had in ages.

She shook her head in amazement as she slowed her car at a red light on her way to pick up Alex.

“Fun,” she said out loud, as if the word was a new concept.

In many ways, it was to her. Elle hadn’t had that sort of evening in…well…in many years. Sure, she always had a blast doing roller derby, but that was more of a necessary outlet, her own therapy to handle living with an addict, since she’d started on the team when she was with Sam then continued when she kicked him out. And, yes, she and her son had gobs of fun playing zombie games, going bowling, and challenging each other in Pac-Man at the roller rink after her matches.

But adult fun? Date fun? Fun as a woman?

That had been eons ago. Like, maybe the Paleolithic period. Getting knocked up as a teenager didn’t give you many opportunities for fun.