Wrong Room, Wet, and Fucked (Part 3)

Kylie's POV 

“You’re still here,” he said, voice low as he fixed his lust eyes on me. “That’s answer enough.”

He stood and the sweatpants dropped the rest of the way to the floor. He stepped out of them without looking away from me and crossed the short distance to the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight as he put one knee on it, then the other, caging me in with his arms. 

I tipped my head back automatically as he pushed forth and took me in—obviously, the smudged mascara, the tangled hair, the way my chest rose and fell a little too fast.

“Last night I fucked you against the door while the front desk knocked. You came on my cock. I came inside you. Then you fell asleep in my bed like you belonged here.” His gaze dropped to my mouth. “This morning I’m going to do it again. Slower. Properly. Unless you say no.”

“I… I don’t even know you.” I muttered.

“You know enough.” One of his hands slid under the sheet and found the hem of my dress. He pushed it higher, knuckles brushing the soft skin of my stomach. “You’re wet again. I can feel it from here.”

He was right. Heat flooded my face, but I didn’t push his hand away. Loneliness had been my cold companion for months. Whatever this was—reckless, wrong, completely out of character—it was warm. And I was so tired of being cold.

Jake leaned down and kissed me. It wasn’t the hard, claiming kiss from the night before. This one was slower, deeper, the kind that made my toes curl against the sheets. 

His tongue slid against mine and I opened for him without thinking. One large hand cupped the side of my face while the other kept working my dress higher until it bunched under my breasts. He broke the kiss only long enough to pull the fabric the rest of the way off and toss it aside. My bra followed a second later. Then I was bare under him except for the ruined underwear still tangled around one ankle from last night.

He sat back on his heels and really looked at my breasts.

“Sexy,” he murmured almost to himself, then he lowered his head and took one nipple into his mouth.

I arched off the bed with a soft sound. His tongue circled, teeth grazed, and the hand that wasn’t braced beside my head slid between my legs. Two thick fingers pushed inside me without warning. I was still sensitive from the night before, the stretch made me gasp. He worked them in and out slowly while he switched to the other breast, sucking hard enough to leave another mark.

“Jake—”

“Shh.” He curled his fingers and found a spot that made my thighs tremble. “You’re going to come on my hand first. Then I’m going to fuck you until you forget you ever had the wrong keycard.”

I didn’t have a clever answer for that. All I could do was clutch at the sheets and try to breathe while he took me apart with patient, relentless fingers. He watched my face the whole time, blue eyes dark, studying every twitch and gasp like he was learning me. When the orgasm finally hit, it rolled through me in long, shaking waves. I bit my lip to keep from crying out too loudly—hotel walls weren’t that thick—but a broken sound still escaped.

He didn’t give me time to come down. The second my inner walls stopped fluttering around his fingers he pulled them free, wiped them absently on the sheet, and settled between my thighs. The broad head of his cock nudged against me, slick and hot. He pushed in with one long, controlled thrust, burying himself to the hilt.

“Holy—shit!” I moaned. 

He felt even bigger this morning, thick, stretching me open all over again. He stayed still for a moment, forehead pressed to mine, letting me feel every inch.

“Still with me?” he asked.

I nodded. My hands found his shoulders, then slid down to his back. The muscles under my palms flexed as he began to move.

He fucked me in deep, steady strokes, the kind that dragged against every sensitive place and forced soft, helpless sounds out of my throat. One of his hands pinned both of my wrists above my head. The other slid under my knee and pushed it higher, opening me wider. I wrapped my free leg around his waist and held on.

The headboard tapped lightly against the wall in time with his hips. 

“Look at me,” he said when my eyes started to drift shut.

I forced them open. His face was close, jaw tight with concentration, blue eyes locked on mine. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, and the words sent an unexpected jolt straight to my clit.

He shifted, rolling his hips in a way that ground against my clit on every thrust. I tried to warn him, tried to say I was close, but all that came out was a broken moan. He felt it anyway. His rhythm stayed steady, relentless, until the second orgasm crashed over me harder than the first. My body locked up around him. 

He followed a few strokes later with a low, rough sound, burying himself deep and pulsing hot inside me. He eased out and rolled to the side, one arm still draped across my waist like he wasn’t ready to let go completely.

I stared at the ceiling, heart still racing. Reality was starting to creep back in—my real room on this same floor, the keycard I’d argued about, the fact that I had a flight home in two days and a life that did not include strange men who locked doors and fucked me like they already owned the rights to my body.

Jake’s voice cut through the spiral. “Shower’s through there. Towels are clean. I’ll order coffee.”

I turned my head on the pillow. He was already reaching for the hotel phone on the nightstand, completely unselfconscious about his nakedness.

“You’re very… calm about this,” I said.

He glanced over, one eyebrow slightly raised. “Should I not be?”

“Most men would at least pretend to be surprised that a drunk woman walked into their room and let them—”

“You didn’t let me,” he interrupted quietly. “You stayed. There’s a difference.” 

He dialed room service without looking away from me. “Two coffees, black. And whatever pastry you’ve got that’s still warm.” He hung up and set the phone down. “I’m not most men. And you’re not most women. Now go shower before the coffee gets here. You smell like sex and last night’s martinis.”

I should have been offended. Instead a small, unwilling smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. I sat up, wincing a little at the pleasant ache between my legs, and swung my feet to the floor.

“Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you just… tell me to leave last night?”

He was quiet for a moment. Then he reached out and tucked a strand of tangled hair behind my ear, the gesture almost gentle.

“Because you looked like you needed somewhere to land,” he said simply. “And I decided it might as well be here.”

“I see…”

I stood, collected my scattered clothes, and walked toward the bathroom on legs that still felt a little unsteady. Behind me I heard the soft rustle of sheets as he settled back against the pillows to wait.

I turned on the shower and stepped under the hot water, already know

ing I wasn’t going to ask for my real keycard anytime soon.

NEXT UP; Nanny's Dripping Wet.