“My room tonight.” She didn’t say anything else but turned to walk in the opposite direction. He would follow her; she knew without having to turn around and check.
Her fingers shook a little as she found her key card in the side pocket of her pajama pants and walked into the suite. The door had barely closed before Maurice was grabbing her and pushing her back up against it. He blinked quickly, a look of shock or maybe apology on his face.
“It’s okay, I can take a little roughness.” In fact, she liked it. Even though she hadn’t before and had sworn she’d never allow it from another man again. But this was different. There was no anger, no need to scare or intimidate. No, this, with Maurice, was pure desire. It was mutual, and rising so fast and potent between the two of them she reveled in the rush of anticipation.
A hungry groan was how she’d best describe the sound coming from him just before he ordered, “Off!” Meaning her pajamas, she surmised by the way he pushed the top of the pajama set off her shoulders. She remembered the belt and tore at that until it was loose. That piece of silk hit the floor in seconds, leaving her breasts bare to him.
He palmed one in each hand before bending down to take a nipple into his mouth. Then, moving quickly, he switched sides. All the while, she squirmed with the desire building inside her once again. This time she made the next move, reaching for his shirt and forcing him to stand up and release his hold on her breasts so she could remove it. His top fell to the floor, as well. He pushed her pajama bottoms and panties down past her hips, and she stepped out of her slippers, then eased each leg out.
Mimicking his motions, she pushed his shorts and boxer briefs down while he hastily stepped out of the leather slipper moccasins he wore. Now they were both naked, her body quaking beneath his in-depth perusal.
“I never imagined you naked,” he said while shaking his head. “I don’t know why. I should’ve known.” His hands were moving up and down her torso now. “I just should’ve known.”
Then he was pushing her against the door again, hiking up one of her legs to latch around the back of his waist. She pulled him to her, running her nails along his back as she waited with anticipation for him to sink deep. “Wait. Condom.”
The litany of curses that tumbled from his mouth at that moment would’ve seared any other person’s eardrums. If that other person hadn’t grown up in a house of crude brothers who thought swearing was a measure of their manhood.
Maurice backed away as if he’d been scorched, and she frowned when he dragged his hands down his face.
“Condoms are in my wallet.” If this were a cartoon, now would be the moment when question marks popped into the air. “My wallet is in my room.” That statement settled around them like a lead weight.
“Oh.” That didn’t seem like much of a response, but then—“Oh! Wait! I have some!” She shot across the room, not giving a damn what body parts jiggled as a result, and went straight to the duffel bag she’d brought with her in addition to her suitcase. Digging inside she found the box and stood holding it in the air like it was the prize of the decade. “I have some!”
He did a fist pump in the air and then paused. “You always carry a whole box of condoms when you travel?”
“No.” She frowned and tossed the box at him. “Only when I’m coming to meet the guy who talked about making me come numerous times a day.”
Maurice didn’t respond. He was too busy ripping the box open, dropping the torn pieces of cardboard onto the floor. When he plucked one packet out of the box, the box met the floor as well. A moment later so did the condom wrapper as he hurriedly sheathed himself.
He reached for her and lifted her off her feet. With a gasp she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.
“This is gonna be fast again,” he growled and then walked them to the nearest wall—which was actually the bathroom door—and pushed inside her.
“Yes!” The one word was loud and echoed throughout the room. “That’s what I want, hard and fast and so good. So damn good.”
Mutual gasps echoed through the air at their joining as she took him in deep. There were no more words, no more quips from either of them as only the sound of their bodies pounding into each other resonated throughout the room. He was driving into her so hard and so fast that her back slammed into the door, her mind whirling around the delicious thrill of this heated taking.
“Sorry,” he groaned and thrust inside her once more before his body stilled. “So. Sorry.” Two more of those stiff thrust-and-stop movements and she was shattering around him again.
Her eyes closed and her head tilted back, her fingers still digging into his skin as her muscles contracted around his pulsating dick.
“Dammit.” Moaning, he dropped his forehead to rest at her neck. His body jerked with his release moments after hers, as she continued to tremble.
“Tomorrow,” he whispered after a few minutes of them both trying to catch their breath.
“Tomorrow?” That was a weird word to use after sex.
He nodded. “Yeah. We’re gonna take it slow, tomorrow.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
MAURICE GRABBED TWO towels from the closet by the bathroom door and dropped them on the end of the soaker tub.
She was still standing in the doorway, a sheet from the bed wrapped around her body, and her arms folded over her chest to hold it in place. When he’d suggested they take a bath, the languid after-sex sensations that had been filtering through her body switched places with a clammy feeling that
