Taming the Storm
Page 59
Hopeful, beautiful blue eyes blink back at me.
I have this sudden feeling of falling.
“You think we could? It wouldn’t cause any time issues?”
I brush my sudden vertigo aside. “I schedule this tour. People work to my timing. They do what I say. And I say, we’re getting you a T-shirt in every town we stop in.”
“Thank you.” She takes hold of my hand, turning her face into it, and presses a kiss to my palm.
It’s warm and caring. And loving.
No.
I feel like my balls have just been put into a vise. My heart starts to hammer out of its cage.
I move away from her touch and climb off the bed, using the excuse of getting my water bottle from the dresser. I keep my back to her while drinking from the bottle until I feel my heart rate return to normal.
When I turn, her arms are up in the air, and the Angry Birds tee is descending, almost about to cover up those perfect tits of hers.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
She stops, the shirt teetering way too close to coverage for my liking. She gives me a look of confusion. “Putting on the cute shirt you bought me.”
Shaking my head, I stride over and pull the shirt back off. I toss it to the nearby chair. “New rule—no clothes when you and I are together.”
“That could get a little awkward on the bus, and you know, in public.”
“All right, smart-ass. You and I in a bedroom, clothes stay at the door.”
“I don’t like to sleep naked.”
Leaning over her, my hand quickly moves up her inner thigh, and without stopping, I push two fingers inside her. “Well, get used to it.”
She tightens around my fingers, her head falling back onto the pillow.
“I need you inside me,” she breathes.
“Say please.”
Her eyes bore into mine. “Please,” she growls, her jaw clenched.
In seconds, I’m sheathed and fucking her again.
She’s sleeping now. Worn out from the four orgasms I gave her.
And she’s wearing the damn T-shirt.
I caved after she got all cute on me. I’m not happy about it. I don’t see the reason for covering up her gorgeous body. But she wanted to wear it, and I gave in.
Definitely something I need to work on. Giving in is not something I’m used to doing.
She pulled that shirt on, lay down in my arms, her head on my chest, and was out in minutes.
She’s not used to all the sex. Well, she’ll have to learn and fast, because my sex drive is really high. We’re going to be screwing like this the whole time we’re on tour.
I stare down at her. She looks even more beautiful in sleep.
Then, I look at the T-shirt and smile. I don’t why, but I get a ridiculously happy feeling from knowing she’s wearing the shirt I bought her.
But, that smile disappears quickly when my mind reminds me that shit is still here, sitting out there in the goddamn minibar.
I specifically requested no Segal in the minibar, like I do at every hotel I stay in. Stupid fuckers here obviously don’t give a shit about their guests’ requests. Yeah, well, tomorrow, they’re going to get a taste of pissed off Tom Carter.
Knowing I won’t sleep with that shit in here, I ease my arm out from underneath Lyla, and quietly slip out of bed and go through to the living room.
I open the door to the minibar and grab all the bottles of Segal. I can’t even stand to have that shit in my hands, so I quickly dump them in the wastebasket. Walking over to the door, I open it and leave the wastebasket out in the hall for the cleaners to take away.
The minute I shut the door, all the tension I was feeling leaves my body.
I go back to the bedroom and climb into bed. Lyla has turned over in her sleep, so I move up behind her and wrap my arm over her waist, feeling strangely soothed by the warmth of her body.
I’ve never slept with a chick like this before. Usually, we fuck, and then I go home.
I thought it would be weird, sleeping here with her, but it’s not. I really like it.
“Where did you go?” she asks in a sleepy voice.
She’s awake. I press a kiss to her neck. “Just to get a drink,” I lie.
“Are you going back to sleep?” She yawns.
I smile against her skin. Then, I lift her shirt and smooth my hand down her side and over her ass.
“No, I was thinking I might give you another orgasm, if you’re not too tired that is.”
I slip my hand between her legs. She parts them for me. I run my finger between her lips, finding her wet and so very ready for me.
God, she’s so fucking hot.
She shrugs, trying to feign nonchalance. “I’m not tired anymore. Sure, I guess I could go for another orgasm. I mean, you do give them so very well.”
Grinning, I reach over and grab a condom from the bedside table. Only two left. Looks like I’ll have to stock up on these babies. Not that I’m complaining.
I have that condom on in seconds. Gripping her thigh with my hand, I lift her leg higher and push inside her.
“Christ, Lyla. You’re so tight, so fucking hot.”
“Oh God,” she moans.
I start fucking her, sliding my cock in and out of her slick hole.
Having sex with Lyla is like finding my nirvana.
And I suddenly realize that this is all I want. To keep doing this with her. I can’t imagine ever stopping.
No.
I will stop. The tour will end, and so will this thing I have with her.
Instantly, I’m hit with a barrage of feelings.
I have this sudden feeling of falling.
“You think we could? It wouldn’t cause any time issues?”
I brush my sudden vertigo aside. “I schedule this tour. People work to my timing. They do what I say. And I say, we’re getting you a T-shirt in every town we stop in.”
“Thank you.” She takes hold of my hand, turning her face into it, and presses a kiss to my palm.
It’s warm and caring. And loving.
No.
I feel like my balls have just been put into a vise. My heart starts to hammer out of its cage.
I move away from her touch and climb off the bed, using the excuse of getting my water bottle from the dresser. I keep my back to her while drinking from the bottle until I feel my heart rate return to normal.
When I turn, her arms are up in the air, and the Angry Birds tee is descending, almost about to cover up those perfect tits of hers.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
She stops, the shirt teetering way too close to coverage for my liking. She gives me a look of confusion. “Putting on the cute shirt you bought me.”
Shaking my head, I stride over and pull the shirt back off. I toss it to the nearby chair. “New rule—no clothes when you and I are together.”
“That could get a little awkward on the bus, and you know, in public.”
“All right, smart-ass. You and I in a bedroom, clothes stay at the door.”
“I don’t like to sleep naked.”
Leaning over her, my hand quickly moves up her inner thigh, and without stopping, I push two fingers inside her. “Well, get used to it.”
She tightens around my fingers, her head falling back onto the pillow.
“I need you inside me,” she breathes.
“Say please.”
Her eyes bore into mine. “Please,” she growls, her jaw clenched.
In seconds, I’m sheathed and fucking her again.
She’s sleeping now. Worn out from the four orgasms I gave her.
And she’s wearing the damn T-shirt.
I caved after she got all cute on me. I’m not happy about it. I don’t see the reason for covering up her gorgeous body. But she wanted to wear it, and I gave in.
Definitely something I need to work on. Giving in is not something I’m used to doing.
She pulled that shirt on, lay down in my arms, her head on my chest, and was out in minutes.
She’s not used to all the sex. Well, she’ll have to learn and fast, because my sex drive is really high. We’re going to be screwing like this the whole time we’re on tour.
I stare down at her. She looks even more beautiful in sleep.
Then, I look at the T-shirt and smile. I don’t why, but I get a ridiculously happy feeling from knowing she’s wearing the shirt I bought her.
But, that smile disappears quickly when my mind reminds me that shit is still here, sitting out there in the goddamn minibar.
I specifically requested no Segal in the minibar, like I do at every hotel I stay in. Stupid fuckers here obviously don’t give a shit about their guests’ requests. Yeah, well, tomorrow, they’re going to get a taste of pissed off Tom Carter.
Knowing I won’t sleep with that shit in here, I ease my arm out from underneath Lyla, and quietly slip out of bed and go through to the living room.
I open the door to the minibar and grab all the bottles of Segal. I can’t even stand to have that shit in my hands, so I quickly dump them in the wastebasket. Walking over to the door, I open it and leave the wastebasket out in the hall for the cleaners to take away.
The minute I shut the door, all the tension I was feeling leaves my body.
I go back to the bedroom and climb into bed. Lyla has turned over in her sleep, so I move up behind her and wrap my arm over her waist, feeling strangely soothed by the warmth of her body.
I’ve never slept with a chick like this before. Usually, we fuck, and then I go home.
I thought it would be weird, sleeping here with her, but it’s not. I really like it.
“Where did you go?” she asks in a sleepy voice.
She’s awake. I press a kiss to her neck. “Just to get a drink,” I lie.
“Are you going back to sleep?” She yawns.
I smile against her skin. Then, I lift her shirt and smooth my hand down her side and over her ass.
“No, I was thinking I might give you another orgasm, if you’re not too tired that is.”
I slip my hand between her legs. She parts them for me. I run my finger between her lips, finding her wet and so very ready for me.
God, she’s so fucking hot.
She shrugs, trying to feign nonchalance. “I’m not tired anymore. Sure, I guess I could go for another orgasm. I mean, you do give them so very well.”
Grinning, I reach over and grab a condom from the bedside table. Only two left. Looks like I’ll have to stock up on these babies. Not that I’m complaining.
I have that condom on in seconds. Gripping her thigh with my hand, I lift her leg higher and push inside her.
“Christ, Lyla. You’re so tight, so fucking hot.”
“Oh God,” she moans.
I start fucking her, sliding my cock in and out of her slick hole.
Having sex with Lyla is like finding my nirvana.
And I suddenly realize that this is all I want. To keep doing this with her. I can’t imagine ever stopping.
No.
I will stop. The tour will end, and so will this thing I have with her.
Instantly, I’m hit with a barrage of feelings.
