Page 32 of Merging Wright

I want her fucking dripping over me.

Jane locks her legs around my back and stills, tipping her hips upward the slightest bit, and I feel her come undone. She clenches. She clutches. She wrings me out, and I go off inside her, releasing a fountain of pent-up desire. No fantasy compares to this moment, this release, this need to fill her up and do it again.

Only for tonight?

One night will never be enough.

17

Playlist: “Heaven” – Kane Brown

[Jane]

After rich food, sweet champagne, and two orgasms that rock my world, I’m exhausted. The events of the day catch up with me, and I fight the emotions threatening to overwhelm me. Threatening to remind me this isn’t real.

I’m also sticky in ways I’ve never imagined.

“You okay?” Mach asks as I sit upright a little too fast. His hand comes to my lower back and swipes up my spine.

“Just . . . need a minute to clean up.” I don’t look back at him, fearing one look will bring on tears. I don’t know why I’m suddenly reacting as I am, sensitive and scared. I’m not typically emotional, but my body quakes, a sure sign of a breakdown coming. I slip off the bed and enter the bathroom. With the shower heating, I look at myself in the mirror. Evidence of Mach’s kisses swell my lips. My nipples are still peaked and tight. One breast bears a purple mark from Mach’s suction.

With the bathroom steaming, I don’t bother removing the hairband or pins holding my hair in place but step into the shower. Facing the spray, I allow the warm water to wash the sudden tears down the drain.

“Hey,” Mach says behind me.

I jump. I didn’t hear him enter the bathroom. The shower doesn’t have a door but a glass panel wall with an opening at the end.

His inked arms circle me, and his mouth comes to my neck. “What’s this?” The tenderness in his voice is disarming.

“Today’s just been a lot, I guess.” I swipe my cheeks, keeping my face to the spray as I brush back the tears and hope they’ll simply disappear in the moisture of the shower.

“Only for one night.” His quiet voice rumbles against my skin. “Let it all go tonight, okay?”

Tomorrow. I nod.

Mach kisses the side of my neck. Another kiss presses below my ear. His hand cups my chin, and he turns me until our mouths meet. He kisses me, slow and sweet.

This kiss feels like how a husband might savor his new bride, but I quickly dismiss the thought.

Our lips come together and pull apart, seek each other, and separate once more. Over and over, he softly peppers my mouth with tender kisses until he leans away and reaches for my hair.

“Let me help you.” His fingers weave through the knot, gently searching for the pins. Then he removes the band. My hair tumbles downward, and Mach spins me, so the shower spray hits my back. Standing before me, he finger-combs my hair, spreading it under the warm water. Next, he reaches for the hotel shampoo and lathers up my locks, massaging my scalp before rubbing at my nape.

“Washing someone’s hair is one of the most romantic gestures ever,” I whisper.

“Romantic?” Mach states in mock mortification. Slowly, he smiles. “I’ll remember that the next time the shampoo girl at QuickCuts washes mine.”

I choke on a laugh. “You don’t use QuickCuts.” Leveling a glare at him, I fight the spur of jealousy that another woman touches his hair wherever he does get a haircut.

“I don’t have a shampoo girl, either.” Mach watches me as he continues to massage my head. “I go to an old-fashioned barber shop.”

I smile weakly and we fall silent a second as he rubs my scalp.

“We never had cake.”

The out-of-nowhere comment makes me laugh. “I’m not really a cake woman. I prefer pie.”

Mach stills his fingers, then slowly removes them from my hair and tips my head back to rinse the suds under the spray. “Five facts. I already know this one about you. Apple crumble with ice cream is your favorite.”