Southern Sinner (North Carolina Highlands 3)

My pussy spasms and I surrender, teetering on the edge of the precipice.

“Honey, I gotta see your face when you come.”

I nod, too scattered, too scalding hot, to resist the invitation.

I let Hank roll me onto my back. Then, to my surprise, he scoots back and settles his head between my legs.

Eyes locked on mine, he kisses my clit, tongue and lips and tenderness.

The bastard shoves me right off that precipice.

My orgasm rips through me. I arch my back, rising up to meet the spiraling sensation. I’m helpless against the onslaught. Helpless and boneless. I cry out Hank’s name, reaching blindly for him.

He finds my hands—of course he does—and twines his fingers through mine. Covering my body with his. Kissing my neck, my jaw, my mouth.

Behind my closed lids, splashes of vibrant color explode. A rainbow kaleidoscope that makes me feel keenly, almost painfully alive.

He slips inside me when I’m still coming, wrapping my leg around his waist. He grunts when I pulse around him, and his thrusts become fast, uneven.

“So good,” he breathes into our kiss. “Honey, you feel like heaven.”

The echoes of my orgasm still ripple through me when he finds his, clenching his teeth against a muffled fuck.

He lowers himself onto me, resting some of his weight on his forearms so I’m not crushed. Still, the solid weight of his body presses me into the mattress. The smell of his skin fills my head. Skin and sex.

We breathe hard, his head buried in my neck. When I’m able to move again I reach up and play with his hair. He grunts again, swiping his thumb over my side. “That feels like heaven too.”

Thoughts are starting to swirl inside my head.

Dangerous thoughts.

This feels too good. Being with this guy feels too fucking good.

I need to think of something else, anything else, so I don’t add fuel to the fire burning inside my body, my mind.

I open my eyes and look at the ceiling. Look at the lights outside the windows, trying to formulate a plan for tomorrow. Maybe the girls and I can check out Giada’s restaurant. Do some shopping at the Bellagio, or even get massages—

“Penny for your thoughts.”

I startle at the sex-roughed sound of Hank’s voice. He’s kissing my breast: slow, careful kisses, and the thoughts start to swirl again.

“Are you kidding?” I shoot back. “How am I supposed to think after that?”

Even I’m surprised by the speed of my recovery. Guess it’s almost become a reflex, backing up when people get too close.

Much safer this way.

“Did I fuck your brains out?” he says, laughing, and I laugh too.

I gotta get out of here.

“And that’s my cue to go,” I say, giving his chest a gentle push.

“Didn’t you say downstairs you wanted to do it more than once?”

“I changed my mind. I don’t mean to be rude, but let’s keep it fun, yeah? And morning breath and awkward conversation are not fun.”

Searching my face, Hank presses up onto his hands, hovering over me. His biceps literally ripple on either side of my head. “Listen, Stevie. If you wanna leave, I’m not gonna stop you. But I’d really, really like you to stay for round two.”

I lick my lips. “Sometimes, a second go isn’t a good idea.”

He looks genuinely mystified by this, his eyebrows drawn together and mouth in a frown. “Why the hell not?”

“Because I’ve got things to do,” I say, trying to grin so my words come off as playful. I don’t want to fake anything, but I also don’t want to hurt the guy’s feelings.

“Let me do you. Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it enough to want more.”

I’m laughing again, and I don’t want to be. “I did enjoy it. A lot.”

“So stay.” He ducks down to kiss the swell of my breast again. “I’ll beg if I have to.”

Why does he have to be so warm and generous and lovely? Why does his dick have to be so perfect?

Also, why does my favorite The Weeknd song have to be on his fucking playlist?

I glance out the windows.

Screw it. I came to Vegas to celebrate being officially, legally free from a controlling ex, and if having great sex with a hot guy in his massive suite isn’t the definition of doing whatever the hell I want, well, I don’t know what is.

Besides, it’s just one night. You don’t get in over your head in one night. Not when you’re forty and free, and you know better.

“What does this begging entail, exactly?”

Hank smiles. “How about we move this to the shower? I’ll lather you up. Touch every inch of your skin. Then I’ll tell you to bend over and put your hands on the wall. There will be hot water everywhere. And steam, lots of steam. I’ll sink my fingers inside you from behind, two of them. After you come, I’ll dry you off and take you to bed and fuck you just how you ask me to. Deal?”