“My turn,” I tell him, lifting my sports bra over my head, leaving me in only my knickers. I lean down, swirling my tongue around his nipple before slowly licking my way down his body, over his abs. He groans, dropping his head back on the bed.
I moan when I reach the ‘V’, his muscles tightening as I grip his dick, slowly running my hand over his pulsing shaft.
A squeal passes through my lips when he grips me under the armpits, pulling me up his body before rolling us over, him on top.
“My turn,” he rasps, licking my neck.
I arch my back, moaning when he hits the sensitive spot on my neck.
“You were on top last time,” I remind him, tensing my thighs around him as I roll us again. This time, the bed isn’t there to catch us.
I cry out when we land on the floor, yet Clayton only lets out a small groan before reaching for me again, gripping the back of my neck and pulling me towards him, taking my lips in a fiery kiss.
I grind myself on him, causing wetness to pool between my legs as I begin to pulse with need.
He clutches the straps of my knickers, tearing them from my body.
“Oh God,” I moan, rubbing my clit against his hardness.
“Fuck!”
A whimper escapes me when he presses his thumb over my clit, rubbing in a circular motion.
“Condom,” I breathe out, digging my fingers into his biceps.
“Jeans. On the edge of the bed,” he rasps out, before proceeding to kiss down my chest. He takes my nipple into his mouth, leaving it tender when he reaches for the other.
I lift up a little, blindly patting my way across the bed until I feel the denim under my fingers. I pull the jeans down, searching his pockets for his wallet and pulling a condom from the stash he only topped up this morning.
Clear liquid spills from the top of his cock as I slowly roll the condom over his hardness.
I rise to my knees as he grabs his cock, pumping it once, twice, whilst pressing his thumb harder against my clit, driving me wild.
I moan, finding it hard to keep still as I lower myself over him, my pussy tightening around him.
“Oh God,” I groan, placing my hands on his chest for balance.
It feels so good to have him inside of me; tingles shoot through my stomach.
“Fuck,” he groans, gripping my hip with one hand, his attention on his dick sliding in and out of me as I thrust up and down.
The carpet burns my knees as I push myself down harder, speeding up my movements, my body chasing the orgasm I know is coming.
Clayton reaches up, kissing his way down my neck before biting the tops of my breasts. I moan through the pleasure as I arch my back, causing my chest to push out.
He licks over the bite mark, and my entire body shudders at the sensation, goose bumps breaking out all over my body.
I ground myself down harder, our skin slapping together in a mad frenzy.
The tips of my fingers dig into his chest as I cry out my orgasm, electricity shooting through my veins. Clayton follows, gripping me tighter as his body tenses, shuddering through his own orgasm.
Our sweat mingles together when I fall against his chest, both of us breathing hard.
I blow hair out of my face, resting my chin on his chest as I look up at him. “Can’t we just spend the next two days in bed?” I moan, pressing a kiss to his pec.
He runs a hand down my hair, smiling. “And ruin tomorrow? No chance. It’s Valentine’s Day, and I have something planned that I’m hoping you’ll enjoy.”
I smile, kissing him once more before dropping my head on his shoulder, exhausted. “How can I say no to that?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The message still says the same thing, no matter how many times I read it. My stomach churns as I read it once more.
BEAU: Another break-in happened last night. A man in his eighties was severely beaten to death. His wife was found tied to the end of her bed, forced to watch. It’s not confirmed, but they think she died of a heart attack just before the police got there. I know I had my reservations about this, but I’m in. All in.
My phone slips out of my hand as the door to our room opens.
Clayton steps through, a bag in one hand while the other pulls out his earphones. Sweat beads on his head and neck, soaking into his grey hoody.
He frowns when he looks up, seeing me on the bed. “Is everything okay?”
I nod, forcing a smile as I slide my phone under the bed. “Yeah. Did you enjoy your run?” I sniff, smelling the mouth-watering aroma of freshly cooked bacon. “My God, please tell me that whatever that is, it’s mine.”
He chuckles, sitting beside me on the bed as he kicks his trainers off. He pulls two foiled packets out and two plastic cups with lids, placing them on the bedside table.
“Sausage, bacon and egg sarnie,” he explains, before passing me the drink. “And this is your hot chocolate. I don’t want you snapping at me all day.”
“I really could get used to this,” I tell him, breathing in the aroma before placing it on the side. “What time is it?”
We hadn’t gone to sleep until the early hours of the morning, and as much as I’d like to blame it on the great sex, it was because we had to get some work done.
“Just before noon. I let you lie in while I went for a run. I found this place next door and decided to grab some food before coming up.”
“What are our plans for today?”
“It’s a surprise. But that isn’t until half one.”
I smirk, raising my eyebrows. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yes. So, we have time to eat this and shower,” he tells me, kissing the corner of my mouth.
My smile is wide as he kisses along my jaw. I love this side of him. “Is that all?”
He grabs my sandwich off my lap, chucking it onto the bedside table.
“I can think of one or two things we can do,” he rasps, his voice low.
Laughter spills out of me when he swings my body up and over him.
Yeah, I could definitely get used to this.
*** *** ***
He brought me to a pottery class. Pottery. Out of all the things I imagined, this was not on the list.
The class teacher had shown us how to use the equipment and gave us a quick run-down on what to do, yet I still have no clue. Movies make this look piss easy.
My clay spins out of control and splatters back into a clump for what feels like the tenth time.
I can’t help but laugh. My competitive side wants to nail it, but the other part just wants this to be over. I hate sucking at something.
The lady next to me, who’s disapproved of me from the second I walked in, glares at me.
“Shh, this is meant to be relaxing.”
Stumped, I can only ignore her. Not even the background music is relaxing. It’s actually annoying, especially the grating noise of what I assume is meant to be a bird tweeting. Instead, it sounds like a slaughterhouse.
It doesn’t help that it’s boring too. The only time I sit still is when I’m playing video games.
Although, I am getting plenty of entertainment out of the couple in front of us. They haven’t stopped bickering since we walked in.
I lean to the side, glad Clayton moved his station closer to mine, and whisper, “They’ll break up within a week.”
Distracted, his clay begins to spin out of control, and he groans as his vase is destroyed.