Ava Gray - Skin Game

“Bastard. Maybe I will.” She reached between them, curled her fingers around his cock, and squeezed. “Who’s in charge now ?”

His hips bucked. “You make me come like this, and you don’t get a hard cock inside you tonight. Let go.”

She levered up on an elbow, working her fingers along his length in an irresistible rhythm. “Make me.”

His eyes kindled like stars blazing into the dark velvet of a night sky. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Are you as stupid as you are pretty?” She enunciated clearly in case he was. “Of course I do.”

That seemed to be the last straw. He caught his breath and broke her hold on him in a move she’d used on him earlier in the day. Before she hardly knew what had happened, Kyra found herself facedown on the bed with Rey applying pressure on her upper back to keep her that way.

Ah, a kinky fuck. She liked that.

The condom packet crinkled as he presumably tore it open. Then she felt his hands on her hips, but he didn’t need to guide her. She knew this position, so she raised her pelvis, and he slammed into her. His fingers knotted in her hair, smarting a little, but she liked it rough—always had.

He took her hard and fast, all the way in and then he drew almost all the way out, so she felt each push as if it was the first time. Kyra lifted her hips to meet him, grinding back on each inward thrust. Then it was like he read her mind—what she always wanted and seldom got.

His hands roved under her body, cupping her breasts. He pulled on her nipples and she felt an answering contraction in her pussy. Rey ran his hands over her like he owned her, slipping between her thighs to rub her clit. Kyra bucked as if she’d fight him off, but it was quite the opposite. She wanted to be tamed, but nobody ever rode her exactly like she wanted.

Until now.

She felt him cover her entirely, weighting her. Claiming her. He bit down on the back of her neck, hard enough to hurt. She’d wear his mark for days, and that idea pushed her over the edge. Sobbing for breath, she tensed and came. Clawed at the pillow.

Rey pushed her through that orgasm and two more before he let go. His thrusts became quick and shallow, his breath gusting in her ears. Kyra lay beneath him, quiet and quiescent, reveling in the afterglow. The raw groan sounded torn out of him when he shuddered atop her, his chest plastered to her back in sweet slick sweat.

How fucking brilliant. She might’ve met the man capable of wearing her out. It would definitely be a night to remember.

Reyes woke with a hard dick, the taste of her on his lips, and a bad feeling. In that order. After the night he’d had, the first thing indicated there was something seriously wrong with him. He should be set for sex. Instead the wild night seemed to have only given his penis unreasonable expectations.

Christ, they’d done it three times, not counting all the extracurricular exploration, vying for dominance all the while. Fighting her for control had worn him the fuck out—he’d never been with anyone like her—and now he wanted her all over again.

They had nine more condoms, and time for a quickie before checkout. He reached for Kyra and found only the slightly pilled cotton of cheap, well-washed sheets.

No shower running, no ambient noise in the room at all. Not. Good.

With immeasurable regret, he opened his eyes. The slant of the sunlight across old, green shag carpeting reinforced his impression something wasn’t right. A quick scan of the room resulted in a resounding, “Fuck!”

Before he bounded out of bed stark naked, and headed for the window, he already knew what he’d find—a potholed parking lot that didn’t contain a powder blue ’71 Marquis. Chagrin and humiliation burned in his empty stomach, creating a bitter cocktail. She’d given him the slip.

Only sheer self-control, which had failed him last night, prevented him from slamming his fist into a wall. That would only injure him without adding anything of benefit. Reyes tried breathing exercises, needing to restore equilibrium so he could examine the situation logically.

Nothing helped.

The woman had fucked his brains out and then left him asleep in bed. He couldn’t remember when, if ever, anyone had so bested him. Of course, given the teeth marks he’d left all over her neck and shoulders, it could be argued he’d taken his share from her as well, at least on a personal level.

But this was business, not personal.

She’d written him a note on motel stationary, short and to the point. Best I ever had—thanks for an amazing night. Good luck! Signed with a big swirling K .

Well, at least I was her best. Somehow, that knowledge didn’t quell his wrath. Adding insult to injury, she’d also left him a crumpled twenty, as if he were a cut-rate man-whore she’d hired for the night.

Reyes swore.

A glance at the red digital numbers on the old clock radio told him it was almost eleven. Goddamn, he never slept this late. Clearly he’d underestimated Kyra Marie Beckwith all the way around.

Fury alone wouldn’t get the job done, but if he tamped it, if he remembered how he felt at this moment, it might come in handy later. He took a five-minute shower and dressed in the same clothes he had on yesterday. Housekeeping would be at the door in a few minutes and he intended to be gone before then.

After giving the room a final, cursory scan, he snatched up the bill she’d left him. When he found the woman, he’d make her eat it. Or maybe not, maybe he’d put her mouth to better use. But first things first.

As he came out of the rundown motel, humidity hit him like a wet glove. Reyes retrieved his cell phone from a zipper pocket cunningly concealed in the lining of his jacket. Later, he’d need to take it off or sweat himself sick. He let the customer-service agent do her I’m-so-friendly spiel and then said, “You’ll find my rental car parked at Suds just outside Eunice. Send someone to collect it, please.”

The rep sputtered as he’d expected. He gave her thirty seconds to articulate her objections, and then he spoke over the top of her. “I don’t care what it costs. Put it on the platinum card.” He paused and pretended to listen. “No, thank you .”

Spinning in place, he assessed his situation in a single glance—within a few miles of Lake Charles and a stone’s throw from the highway. No wonder the bed vibrated all night, quite apart from their pelvic wrestling. An eatery called Motel Restaurant sat close to the access road, apart from the L-shaped building that intersected at the office. Since it offered his only option for breakfast, he headed that way.

Like the room they’d rented, this place had seen better days. Worn green linoleum had cracked and curled up near the counter. The tabletops were made of ancient white and gray Formica. It wasn’t a large place, only one person inside, a scruffy, bearded guy who looked as if he’d be hard-pressed to pay for his coffee.

Nobody came to seat him, so he chose a booth near the back where he could watch the door. Old habits died hard.

The menu consisted of a single laminated sheet. It looked like he could have grits, eggs, hotcakes, bacon, or any combination thereof. This wasn’t the sort of place where a guy could find fruit or granola. Reyes sighed; the food he ate while tracking Kyra Beckwith might succeed in killing him where everything else had failed.

Next order of business would be getting another car delivered. Enterprise claimed to do just that, so he dialed information for their local office. Five minutes later, he had the promise of a ride. He had to drive with the rep back to the branch to fill out paperwork, of course. It would be well into the afternoon before he finished all this crap.