What She Needs - Lacey Alexander [74]
Fuck yes. She looked and felt so beautiful coming in his arms that he could barely hold back. But he did—because this was her moment, to climax, to free herself a little more, to feel everything he wanted her to feel. He watched the orgasm wash over her, stealing her senses, and loved it more than he ever had. The way her eyes fell shut, her mouth dropped open, slack and lost to passion. The way she sighed, replete, when it had passed.
Then and only then did he take over, once again feeling the urge to dominate, because he needed release so fucking bad. He pressed her back to the table and climbed on. Then he plunged into her fiercely, unrelenting, loving the way her body jerked and her tits bounced with each drive, loving the way she held on to the table with both hands to better meet his cock with her sweet cunt.
“Beg me some more, baby,” he murmured against her breast, nibbling on the nipple. He’d had no idea how much it would excite him to hear that—Jenna begging.
“Fuck me,” she pleaded without hesitation. “Please, please fuck me!”
And that was all he needed. To ram into her still more powerfully, to make them both cry out with every pummeling stroke, and then to explode inside her.
“Damn—I’m coming, I’m coming!” he told her as a violent climax drained him. He groaned with every burst of come he shot inside her. Then he collapsed gently atop her soft body, amazed by the whole night.
At first, Jenna was surprised to wake up in Brent’s bed. But she instantly liked it there, a lot. And then she remembered the way the night had ended. He’d kissed her cheek and murmured, “Let’s go to my place, get some sleep.” She hadn’t argued. So she’d put on her black coat and let him lead her from the dungeon to another luxury golf cart, and they’d proceeded here.
She hadn’t been able to see much in the dark except the ocean—the small house rested high on the beach in a row with two or three others, all sharing sand and some palm trees for a yard. And to her surprise, the tiny community felt quite isolated from the rest of the resort.
Now she sat up in bed, peering out a window covered with sheer curtains to see a hammock stretched between two palm trees and another glimpse of the beach. She could hear the waves crashing from here.
Looking around, she found Brent’s home completely . . . normal. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but not this. The bedroom was bright and tidy, with a large teakwood bed and Spanish tile floors. The open bathroom door to the right revealed a large, modern shower and a wide vanity, with plush navy blue towels hanging from a bar in between. A glance in the other direction provided a glimpse of the living room, where she spied a leather sofa, expensive-looking end tables, and a large flat-screen TV.
“Morning, sunshine,” he said, his voice raspy from sleep.
She gazed down at where he lay, not in the least embarrassed to be naked with him any longer. “Morning.”
“How are you? Still doing okay after last night?”
“Sore,” she said. The muscles in her arms and upper back ached, and in her thighs, too—maybe from walking so far in those ridiculously high-heeled boots.
“Sorry about that. But I scheduled a spa visit for you this afternoon with our best masseuse, Rhoda.”
She tilted her head, remembering where she was—not his bungalow, but the Hotel Erotique. “So—is a massage here a massage? Or is a massage here a sex thing?”
He grinned softly against his pillow, and she liked the way he looked with messy hair, needing a shave. “We do some massage fantasies, but most of the time, sunshine, a massage here is just a massage. Rhoda is a sweet, older woman who’ll give you the best massage of your life.”
She couldn’t help asking. “What is someone like her doing working here?”
“Her kids are grown and gone, she likes the beach, and we pay well,” he replied with a lazy wink—after which he looked a little more serious. “But back to the point—how are you, besides sore?”
She hadn’t yet thought