The Favor

He snarled into my ear. “You love having my dick in you, don’t you?”

I did. I absolutely did. Especially right at this moment, when the mother of all orgasms was so close. I could feel my pussy begin to quake—

“Hold it, Vienna.”

Bastard. I wouldn’t manage it for long. I couldn’t. Every part of me felt over-sensitized—my skin, my nipples, my clit, my inner walls.

More, I felt buzzed from the feel-good chemicals that were swimming through me. It was hard to think, let alone exercise any damn self-control. Being trapped beneath him while he held my hands down only made me even hotter. “Dane—”

“Hold it just a little longer.”

I hissed. “I can’t.”

“Hold it or I slow down.”

Motherfucker. I dug my nails into his hands as I tried getting free, but he only tightened his hold and gave me more of his weight.

“You’re going nowhere, baby girl, until I’m done.” He kept me pinned as he selfishly took what he wanted. And I realized now that I’d never really been taken before. I’d had rough sex, and I’d thought it was the same thing.

I was wrong.

I wasn’t simply being fucked by Dane. No. Right now, he ruled me; exerted a sexual power over me that felt dangerously addictive.

I moaned, gasped, trembled, and squirmed as every unrelenting slam of his cock pushed me closer and closer to exploding. My thighs tightened around his hips just as the walls of my pussy tightened around his dick yet again—a dick I could now feel swelling inside me. “Dane.”

His eyes smoldered. “Yeah, fucking come.”

Pure pleasure surged over and through me in a furious, mind-blowing rush. My eyes went blind and a scream tore out of my throat. Violent tremors racked my body as the pleasure went on and on and on.

I was only vaguely aware of Dane squeezing my hands harder as he forced his cock deep and exploded with a harshly whispered curse. Moments later, we both collapsed.

Chapter Twenty-Three

So now, what?

Sitting upright in bed the next morning, I nibbled on my thumbnail. I’d woken up alone. I honestly couldn’t say whether Dane had slept beside me. For all I knew, he cleaned himself up and then went straight to his own bed. It was the first time in my life that I’d fallen asleep right after sex.

Then again, it was also the first time someone kept my body hanging on the edge of an orgasm for so long that my eventual release drained every bit of energy from me.

Did I regret last night? Not even a little. And I probably wouldn’t regret it if it happened again, to be honest. After all, I’d already crossed emotional lines with him. There’d be no reversing that for as long as he was around. So the idea of taking what I could get and making some delicious memories didn’t seem so bad.

However, there was a chance that Dane was now regretting last night. It was the “not knowing” that made anxiety curdle in my stomach.

Did I go out there and act like nothing had happened? Did I make a glib comment about it to dispel any awkwardness? Would he even feel awkward?

Unlikely.

Nothing seemed to make Dane feel uncomfortable. I just hoped he didn’t plan to treat me to a “it was a mistake” talk. It would be no different than a slap across the face.

Deciding to go ahead with my morning ritual, I went straight to the bathroom, did my business, and took a hot shower. A bath would have been better, since I was a little sore from last night, but I didn’t have the time. I’d do it later, when I was back at home. Well, Dane’s home.

I wrapped a plush towel around me, opened the door, and took a step into the bedroom. I stopped dead, tensing. Dane—fully dressed and looking as hot as ever—stood a few feet away.

If this had happened yesterday morning, I’d have ushered him out of my room with a horrified squeak. But after last night, I felt off-balance and unsure of where I stood.

His dark gaze bore into mine, giving away nothing. Literally nothing. There was no heat, no emotion, no gleam of … anything. “The museum opens in an hour,” he said.

I blinked. That was pretty much the last thing I’d expected him to say. “I’m sorry?”

“You said you wanted to go to the Natural History Museum while we’re here.”

“I do.” But our day had been so hectic yesterday that I hadn’t had time to spare, so I hadn’t bothered to bring the subject up.

“If we leave here soon, we can spend a few hours there before we fly home,” he said, not sounding in the least bit enthusiastic about it. But he was willing to go with me anyway. I might have read something into it if he hadn’t agreed to this prior to our trip.