Whiskey Tears, page 7
“I have my ways,” I state, the tone of my voice giving away a hint of uncertainty. Which she either misses or is way too emotional to notice.
“You’re spoiling me,” she says, taking a step closer, our gazes not faltering from the other. “And you’re ruining me for anyone else who comes after you.”
There’s a hint of playfulness in her tone, a sparkle in her eyes, as if she believes the words. And there’s a lot of truth to them. I wanted to make this night special. Hell, I want to make every night special for her, because unless this night takes a turn in the opposite direction and veers off course, this night is only the beginning. In some ways, I don’t care I’m “ruining” her for other men. If I have my way, there won’t be anyone after me.
Okay, yeah, my brain took that one too far. I’m totally getting ahead of myself. Maybe she’s lousy in bed. Maybe she snores. Maybe now that she knows about my money, she’ll do everything in her power to go after it, use me for only my money. But the way she’s staring at me, her deep blues radiating, I don’t even care if any of these things prove to be true. I’m so fucking lost in her, I would hand over everything I have for her to be happy.
I ignore the voices in my head blaring the true reason we can never be together.
Fuck.
I cradle her chin in my hands, bringing our faces closer together. Before I let the ideas in my head come to fruition, I cover her lips with mine, assuring I don’t say anything I’ll regret in the near future.
Despite our audience of Charles and how we’re in the lobby of a prestigious hotel, she kisses me back with abandon, a wildness missing from our earlier kisses, a promise for more to come.
She wastes no time forcing her tongue into my mouth, licking my tongue, moaning into it. As much as I want to continue this, I whisper in her ear, “Upstairs, Gorgeous. Let’s get upstairs,” before pulling away.
Falling back down to flat feet, no traces of regret or indecision line her features—the agreement of more once we get upstairs enough for her to be content at this moment.
I ignore the wicked smirk settled on Charles’s mouth as he hands me the room key, and Adley accepts the flowers.
“Have a great stay. Please let us know if you need anything else. Anything at all.”
“We’ll be good,” Adley muses, smelling her flowers, her smile widening. My ego can’t help but inflate knowing I put that smile on her face, something I want to do more. Every day if she’ll let me.
‘Cause yeah. I’m fucked. She thinks I’ve ruined her for other men? I’m going to go out on a limb and declare that no matter what else happens tonight and after, there ain’t no woman on this earth who will ever compare to her.
Touché, Adley Gates.
Seven
Adley
This place is freaking amazing. Ethan’s freaking amazing. This night is beyond my wildest dreams. I can’t even believe I’m not dreaming, that right now, this is my life.
Growing up, Mom and Dad took us on trips, staying in some “nice” hotels. This one though? It surpasses all of them. By far.
I can’t begin to fathom how much Ethan spent on one night. And I haven’t even seen the room yet. But I know it’s going to be fucking awesome. Even if it’s just a bed and bathroom, it’s not going to compare to other places I’ve stayed.
I wasn’t kidding when I told him he’s spoiling me, ruining me for other men. Between dinner, the flowers, this hotel, how did I ever get so damn lucky? It’s an understatement to say I was in the right place at the right time the night I met him. And if I only get this one night with him, it will truly be the best night of my life. At least for my first almost nineteen years of it. I feel like a princess. Scratch that. I feel like a queen. How did I even get on this guy’s radar? Right now, I don’t even care I hardly know anything about him. ‘Cause the things I do know, I’m absolutely loving. With a capital L.
Balancing my flowers in one arm, my other hand in Ethan’s who carries all our bags, we walk to the elevator. My eyes have taken in every glorious inch of the lobby, but words can’t do it justice in describing it. It’s elegant, the perfect mix of beach chic meets marine sophistication. As if such a thing truly exists. If you need proof, stop by the Newport Mariner; you’ll see what I mean.
We’re both silent as the elevator makes the short trip to the third floor, and despite earlier conversations and the anticipation of what comes next, there’s no tension between us. We fit, in all the ways that matter. And hey, depending on how tonight goes, there’s plenty of time to get to know the other person, time to explore what this is between us, see what we have.
Checking in with myself, I’m not even nervous for what I know is about to happen in our room. I want this more than I’ve wanted sex before, I practically need it, more than I thought I would ever need someone. But hell if this will be “just sex.” God, no. There’s so much more surrounding this night than two people participating in the physical act of sex. And that’s something I haven’t yet experienced.
Every other guy I slept with in the past has been only about the sex. Sure, I had a connection with a few of them, but nothing compared to what I already share with Ethan. It has nothing to do with him being older either; it’s purely him.
Approaching the door, he lets my hand fall. I wipe my palm against the fabric on my thigh, the clamminess unwelcome.
He pauses outside the door, not quite ready to let us in. “Here’s our home-away-from-home for the night. You ready to be wowed?”
“As if it’s possible to be more in awe of this place?” I sass back.
Throwing his head back in laughter, he speaks when his laughs subside. “Think again, Gorgeous.”
Not missing a beat, he swipes the key over the lock, pushing open the door, allowing me to enter first.
I truly didn’t think I could be amazed anymore, but somehow, this room has me utterly speechless.
The king-sized bed sits in the middle of the room, the dark walnut wood headboard somehow a perfect complement for the nautical theme of the bedspread. And it’s not even tacky nautical. No, it’s so far from being tacky, it’s not even funny.
Ethan gently takes the flowers from me, which is a good thing so I don’t drop them. I don’t see what he does with them as my eyes take in the rest of the space.
A light resting on a nightstand casts shadows over the room, the only source currently lighting the space. There’s a door to my right, which I guess is the bathroom. However, what has my attention the most is the slider on the far wall.
My feet carry me over to the door. Shimmying the lock, I manage to get it open, needing a view of what lies on the other side. Despite the chill in the air on this October night, my breath catches, a hand covering my heart in what can only be described as heaven on Earth.
Though it’s dark outside, I can see the ocean lit up by the illuminating moon. I can’t see how far the ocean stretches, but the smell I’ve loved ever since I was a young girl fills my nostrils. I haven’t yet made it to the beach in Rhode Island this semester, so getting to experience it with Ethan first gives him a few more bonus points.
Stepping onto our private balcony, I don’t even realize the tears slipping down my cheeks as my eyes scan the view. Knowing what it will look like in the daytime is something I’m looking forward to more than words can say.
Ethan’s arms wrap around my waist, and I melt into him, his chest being a comfortable place to land.
“Amazing, isn’t it?”
“You could say that,” I deadpan, not having the exact words to describe not only the view, but the emotions swimming through me.
Magnificent.
Breathtaking.
Astounding.
He leans down to my neck, his breath warming me up from the chill starting to seep in. In my ear, he rasps, “I can’t decide which view I like more: the one from the balcony or you in this dress.” Not giving me a moment to recover from his words, he trails kisses up and down my neck, blowing on the back of it causing goose bumps. The best kind of goosebumps, not the kind from a chill. And not just where he touches, but all over my skin. It’s too much, and yet at the same time, it’s not enough.
As if he can sense where I’m at, he guides us back into the bedroom, not bothering to shut the door. Stopping on the side of the bed, he pushes on my shoulders, positioning me in place. He takes a step back, his eyes roaming down my body, then back up until they meet mine. As I shiver feeling completely bare in front of him—though I’m still totally covered up—he mouths, “Gorgeous.”
Never in my life have I had someone look at me the way Ethan’s studying me right now. As if he’s committing me to memory, an artist making a mental image to use as a muse later. I’m totally on display, but I love it. I love the power he’s giving me, admiring everything there is, taking his time and not rushing into what we both know comes next.
He takes one step closer; my breath hitches as I crane my neck back to be able to watch everything he’s doing.
Gently cupping my chin, his calloused thumbs wipe away any evidence of tears. The next moment, he leans in, his lips landing softly on mine. He doesn’t linger, pulling away after a chaste kiss.
In any other situation, I’d be impatient, ready to get started, but not tonight. In this moment, I’m soaking it all up: every twitch, every touch, every ounce of emotion I feel for this man, cataloging it for later to replay over and over in my mind. I don’t want to waste a single second of the time we have together, and I don’t want to rush it.
An instant of boldness powers through me. Gathering the bottom of my dress in my hands, I start to lift it up, shucking it to the side once the entire fabric is over my head, and I slip off my shoes. Standing in front of Ethan in only a matching thong and fancy bra, I don’t cower.
His eyes widen as each second passes, but he takes no action, no move to hurry anything along.
“Damn, girl.”
It’s all he says. But gah, the way he says it has more tingles erupting everywhere.
He reaches out his hand, letting his fingers trace down my arm. Repeating the same motion on the other side, his movements turn me on, even more so than I already am. I can practically feel my body humming in response to the simple, soft touch his fingers leave on my skin.
His hands find my hips, and he gently tugs me closer. My breasts land against his chest, my nipples pucker against the fabric of the bra. Snaking his hands up my back, they reach the latch. In a somewhat practiced fashion, he skillfully unhooks the fastener, my breasts being freed of their confines once he slips the straps down my arms and removes it completely.
A few inches separate our bodies. Ethan takes a few breaths to glance down between us, my bare breasts his reward for his patience. Licking his lips, one hand reaches down between us. I think he’s going to reach for me but instead, his hand expertly rearranges his dick. A quick peek down confirms how hard he is.
A certain authority comes with turning a hot guy on by standing almost completely naked in front of him. My mama taught me to love my body, no matter how “fat” or “skinny” or any other adjective girls might use to demean our bodies. I haven’t been as blessed in the breast area as others, but there’s a lot to be said for their shape. I don’t need his approval, but Ethan gives it anyway, whether he realizes it or not. He whistles as he continues to stare down at them, bringing an immediate smile to my face.
“Can I?” he asks nervously, waiting for my permission to touch them.
“Of course.”
Reaching out both hands, he tenderly cups my breasts, one in each hand even though both would fit in one palm. His callouses tickle, but I try not to ruin this moment we share by laughing. It’s a new sensation, one I’m coming to highly enjoy the more and more he rubs them.
He pulls my nipples in between his fingers and thumb, rolling them around, causing them to harden more than a moment earlier. In fact, harder than I think they’ve ever been. He spends a few moments caressing them, pulling, tugging lightly, turning me on even more.
And then a flip switches in him.
His hands leave my body, an absence I feel right away. He takes one, two, three steps back, putting more distance between us.
I’m about to ask, to wonder what the heck I did wrong, when he pounces. I don’t even see him coming toward me, he’s so quick. I only know I’m lying down when first my knees hit the bed, followed by the rest of my body.
The comforter is soft against my bare back, the fabric not exactly what I was expecting of a hotel bed but shouldn’t be surprised it’s this nice at this hotel. I lie on the bed, awaiting more action from Ethan, and he doesn’t disappoint.
Hovering over me—still completely dressed—his breathing is labored.
“Want you,” he mutters.
“Good, because I want you too,” I reply back even though my opinion is pretty evident. “You think maybe it’s time to get rid of this?” I run my hand along his abdomen, tugging on his shirt.
Breathing heavily, he finds my gaze. “Yeah, but first I need a quick taste.”
Lowering his head closer, he positions himself right over my left breast. His tongue sneaks out of his mouth, licking the underside of my breast. His action causes my hips to buck off the bed, right into his hard erection still concealed by his pants. Without missing a beat, his tongue lavishes the other breast. More prepared this time, I’m better able to control my lower half, keeping it down on the bed, my hands fisting the comforter.
After two licks, he starts to devour my breasts, as if they were his next meal. Licking, nipping, biting, teasing, he spends equal time on each one, making sure neither one feels neglected. It’s all I can do to keep my body as in control as possible, to not let myself climb the mountain of ecstasy I’m starting to feel churning in my gut.
The moans and sounds emanating from me are unrecognizable to my ears but since his mouth is currently occupied, I know they must be coming from me.
Pausing in his assault of my breasts, he captures my attention with a finger to my chin. My breaths come in pants, my body fully aware of this man in charge of me.
“Remove your panties for me, would ya?”
Despite the words barely registering, I waste no time in following his order. It takes a few tries, but eventually I wiggle myself out, not caring where they end up as I fling them off my fingers.
“Good girl,” he praises.
My body reacts to his compliment with a surge of pleasure between my thighs, a rush of emotions to my extremities.
“How badly do you need release?” Ethan speaks again. However, this time, I have no coherent answer to his question as his fingers find their way between my thighs. “Damn, you’re freaking soaked. Let me take care of that for you.”
One finger pushes inside me. I moan, deeper and louder, at the most welcome intrusion. My fingers still tightly gripping the fabric beneath me, I let myself feel everything as he slips a second finger in, not caring how quickly I’ll come, chasing a release I need so badly.
My legs move, my head thrashes side to side against the pillow, all as he drives me higher and higher up to a place I never knew existed, could even exist. His fingers push in and out, and I fucking ride them, the demand for release so strong I can taste it.
“Ah, shit. Ethan!” I yell as my orgasm crests, my stomach tightening in preparation. And I let go.
Waves upon waves of pleasure roll over me, my vagina pulsating around his fingers still moving to a rhythm. My body takes in every high, every ounce of pleasure Ethan offers until the final shakes and quivers.
Practically spent and devoid of energy, I open my tightly closed eyes to see Ethan’s face staring back. The way he looks at me, the devotion, the raw emotion emanating from him, should make me recoil and turn away. And yet, I do the exact opposite.
“Hey, that was…” I don’t even have the words to describe the intense sensation of what I’m feeling, what he did to me.
“Yeah, Gorgeous. It was.”
His voice should give him away. There’s no way he sensed that the way I did. Except there’s only truth in his statement, no ounce of lying.
I shouldn’t be surprised he took such great care of me during a time like this, that he made it all about me, not asking for anything in return. I can’t help to feel an advantage from being the recipient of an orgasm that strong and powerful. And all he got to do was watch.
Then I notice his clothes.
Licking my lips, boldness powering through, I voice, “I need you to remove your clothes. I shouldn’t be the only one naked.”
“Oh, you need me to take them off?” he challenges.
“Yep. Rid yourself of these confining articles at once.”
Oh my god! I did not just use those awful words.
Inwardly, I cringe at the loss of control I seem to have over my mouth. In an attempt to recover some of my dignity, I start to speak, but he successfully cuts me off as he hops off the bed and proceeds to do just that—rid himself of his clothes.
First, his shirt. Unbuttoned one slow button at a time, only to reveal an undershirt. He pulls the hem from where it’s tucked into his pants and in one swift move, he has it over his head and cast aside.
I can’t help but stare—and drool—at the sight of his bare chest and abdomen. A thin layer of hair coats his broad chest, his pecs clearly a result of some time in the gym. But it’s his abdomen really drawing my attention, a visibly defined six-pack. At some point tonight, my tongue will be licking each divot, tracing the cut lines. I shudder at the thought.
“See something you like?”
Ethan’s voice pulls my focus away from his abdomen and up to his face. The left side of his lips is turned up in a smirk, a devious look covering the rest of his handsome face.
My head encourages me to lie, but my mouth betrays me. “Yeah.”
Shrugging, he continues removing his clothes. He steps out of his pants, leaving his boxers on. Upon closer inspection, there are cute pugs on them.
