Page 78 of Trouble from Abroad
She perks up, shimmying beneath me, and I worry—not about her literal position under me, sweaty and spent—but whether she’s already bored playing nanny and missing her real job.
“Of course. Always. What do you need?”
“Clear my schedule for tomorrow. Book us a hotel. Five stars. A jacu—Fuck that, you deserve a pool. Find us a room with a pool on the balcony. And pack that little rose-gold toy of yours. He’s coming with.”
She bites her lip to hold back a smile, but it escapes.
It takes over half of her gorgeous face.
Then it falters.
“Not tomorrow.” Her voice drops an octave with disappointment. “You’ve got therapy. And the builders are back. More of them this time. They’re working on your bathroomandyour bedroom. Someone needs to be here.”
“You got that right.Someone. Not us.”
If Mia thinks I’ll stand by and let half a dozen men come between me and her pussy, she’s dead wrong.
But I’ve learned how to pick my fights with this one. “I’ll call Mrs. Romano over, our cleaner. She’s been with me since before Lily was born. She’ll watch them like a hawk. We have nothing to worry about.”
That beautiful smile starts to bloom again on Mia’s face.
“I’ll go to therapy. But cancel everything else afterward. We’re spending the day at a hotel. Book it as soon as you wake up. First lesson of the day? Spoil yourself. Pick the fanciest room available. Then hand me your list, and I’ll take care of what’s in there.”
I watch concern darken her expression. Fuck, I love it about her. No armor. No filter. She spills emotion like it’s her default setting.
“Preston Jett. I’m not going anywhere with you if you’re not going to fuck me with that monstrosity, then quite possibly take me straight to the emergency room.” A giggleescapes me—very embarrassing and unmanly as well. But that’s okay. She called my dick a medical threat. I’ll take it. “What you’re doing is torture. The sweetest, most delicious, edge-of-sanity torture. But I will lose my damn mind if you keep this up.”
Propping myself up, I sit lower on her legs and tease her. “Tell me more about the great suffering you’ve endured tonight, Mia,” I say, circling her clit with my thumb while she squirms. “Tell me how selfish I was, denying you my cock while I ate your pussy until you came. Twice. On the tip of my tongue. Go on. Tell me.”
She doesn’t. She just writhes beneath me, trying to match my rhythm, helpless under my weight as I straddle her thighs.
“Come on, baby. Plead your case. Tell me how I’m torturing you, not about to make you come again.”
“Fuck me with your fingers too,” she pants.
She tries to part her legs, and I spread mine wider to let her. One hand stays on her clit. The other pushes three fingers in and deep, while she massages her big tits and plays with her nipples.
Fast learner. Didn’t even have to ask.
“Would you like to file a formal complaint about the mistreatment you’re enduring?”
She shakes her head hard, hair sticking to her sweaty temples, too gone to speak.
I slow my moves and curl my fingers inside her until I find the spot that makes her squirm and moan my name. “Right here, baby?”
“Yes. Yes. Yessss.” Her pussy confirms it too, but inMorse code.
“Be a good girl and come for me one more time. That way, I can make up for not fucking this tight pussy with my cock tonight. Third orgasm’s the charm, right? You’ll forgive me after three.”
She comes in a soundless cry, her back arching off the bed as I watch the poor, poor woman unravel. I grin like I just won a fucking championship. I keep finger-fucking her through it—slow and deep enough to keep her twitching—and rub her clit in soft, reverent strokes until her pussy doesn’t have a heartbeat anymore.
She’s orgasm-dazed. Spent and glowing. Sleep drags her under on the afterglow. I’ll retreat to my room happily with tonight’s outcome.
I ease off her, already missing the heat of her body, the scent of her skin. I reach for my clothes on the floor?—
“Pres.”
Oh. Not asleep. Her voice is all soft and slurred.
