My Killer Vacation — Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

Myles

ur shoes have been left at the front door and I’mO carrying Taylor through the house. I’m half hoping Jude is home to provide a distraction, half hoping he’s not.

Okay, fine. A lot more than half of me is hoping we’re alone. Maybe even all of me. But I shouldnot be bringing this woman up the stairs to her bedroom. Christ, she was just attacked. My fucking blood is hot, it’s cold, I don’t know what it is. All I know is when I saw her lying unconscious on the floor, my world tipped sideways. I’ve never felt that combination of ice-cold fear and violent rage before and I never want to again. This is why I am a bounty hunter. I don’t get attached to anyone.

I can remain emotionless. Robotic. Efficient.

It’s too late for that now. With Taylor.

I’m astorm of feelings over her. So many that I can barely pick them out of the blurring whirlwind and try to define them. I’m protective of her, proud of her, lustful to

the point of pain, adoring and confused. Because I know, I damn well know that if I fuck her, I’m going to grow even more attached and leaving is going to gut me, yet here I am, putting one foot in front of the other. Holding her against my chest like she’s fragile, maybe to try and fool myself into forgetting she wants to be treated— manhandled—like she’s far from breakable.

My stones are aching. My head is crowded. My chest is a fucking crime scene after she was assaulted on my watch.

Mine. All because I missed a detail. Again. I missed something. But she’s kissing my neck and I’ve got a cock that could punch a hole in a window and damn…she’s growing more adept at teasing that spot under my ear by the second, her teeth closing around my lobe and tugging.

Licking. Kissing.

She told me in the Uber that she hasn’t considered a future for us.

As much as that messed with my head, it’s very convenient for me to believe her promise right now. That she hasn’t considered us long-term. It takes away the guilt over hitting and quitting a girl who should be carried to the wedding altar on the wings of a dove. Brought home to mom. Given whatever she wants until she’s deliriously happy.

I’d never be able to do that. I don’t know how.

I can’t even protect her.

That thought has me stomping extra hard into her bedroom, kicking open the bathroom door and striding to the shower. Settling Taylor onto her feet and twisting the knob into the on position.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting you warm.”

Maybe…maybe I can resist this. Maybe I can deposit her into the shower and wait outside, last another day without giving in to my raging hunger for this woman. Sex has never been anything but a diversion for me. An itch to be scratched. But it would be a commitment with Taylor, no matter what she says. Even if she really means what she says about this being temporary. A need for now.My heart and head would make the commitment.Mine. As in, I’d be committing her to memory for the rest of my life. Could I just go on about my business alone once I know she exists?

I don’t know. I have no fucking clue.

“You’re still cold, right?” I ask, gesturing to the shower.

She nods.

The bathroom is already beginning to fill up with steam.

She’s two feet away from me with her bandaged head, asking me for comfort with her incredible green eyes. I’m hanging by a thread and it frays even more. And more when she looks down at the outline of my erection, wets

her lips…and strips off her tank top.

Oh yeah.

Fuck. Thosetits.

That tank top must have had one of those built-in bra things, because she sure as shit isn’t wearing one now. Just those tight pants— And they go next. Slowly. She hooks her thumbs in the waistband and bends forward, sliding the material down her hips, over the smooth globes of her ass.Leave the bathroom, I order myself, when her thong is on fully

display. But I’m glued to the spot. What man wouldn’t be with this fucking princess giving him a striptease, steam from the shower making her tits and belly and shoulders and cheeks dewy? Making her glow? Especially when the princess wears her underwear just this side of tight and when she straightens, kicking away her pants, there is nothing left to the imagination.

“That pussy might as well be out. I can see every little inch of it.”

She steps into the shower, letting herself get covered in warm water, and watching the thong get plastered to her sex, I start to pant, my hand tightening on the edge of the glass shower door. “If you want it out, make it that way,” she murmurs, her voice blending in with the pelting water, making this all sound like a dream. Yeah, a dream. Reality drifts further and further away as she soaps her body. Her chest and thighs and her panties. She soaps up that sweet mound right through the purple material and I lose it. My reservations hit the deck and I reach into the shower, wrap an arm around her waist, ripping her out of the stall with a growl.

I carry her dripping across the bathroom floor and slap that tight ass down on the vanity, already unzipping my jeans. And she’s killing me, absolutely slaying me in her current state of dripping wet, suds sliding down her nipples and belly, lips parted and whimpering. I shouldn’t have let my lust triple and quadruple and turn infinite like this. Now she’s got a head bandage and I’m too hard to do anything but bang her into next weekend.

“Taylor,” I grunt, shuddering with relief when I finally get my cock free from behind my confining zipper. My body is screaming at me to rip off her soaked thong, enter her in a hard pump and don’t stop until I come. But this fucking adoration, this…way she has my chest in a vise, has me tilting her chin up and looking her in the eye. “Tell me you’re not too hurt for this. Tell me you’re not just shaken up and needing comfort.”

“I do. I need comfort. Just from you.” She trails a finger down my stomach and up the underside of my cock, causing me to grit a curse. “But I’ve wanted this, too. And I wanted it before today. It’s not the aftermath talking, Myles.”

“If I took advantage of you, I’d never forgive myself—”

“You wouldn’t.” She kisses me once, twice, lingering pecks. “You couldn’t.”

“Tell me you trust me,” I beg against her mouth while my hands yank her to the edge of the vanity. Quick. Her soaked sex colliding with my cock, pushing it up against my stomach.

“I trust you,” she says, unevenly, searching my eyes.

And warning bells are going off. This isn’t just sex.

We’ve barely started and my chest feels like it’s going to crack wide open, but there’s no turning back. Not when her nipples are aroused and she’s opening her thighs for me, letting me raid her mouth with my tongue. I’m so horny, I could probably grind on her panties a few times and come, but that’s not good enough. Nothing is good enough for my girl, so I end the kiss and go down on my knees, loving the

way she moans when she realizes my intention, her fingers pulling at my shirt to get it off.

As soon as my head is through the neck hole and I’m shirtless, I hook a finger in the crotch of her thong and yank it left, kissing the split of her pussy. Kissing it with just my lips, then familiarizing it with my tongue, parting her pliant lips and searching for that nub.There. So sweet.

So swollen, even before I start teasing it. Letting the flat of my tongue ripple against her, then stroking, nice and easy, rougher when she sobs my name. Her hips are beginning to struggle on the vanity, her thighs alternately opening wide

and hugging my face.

“Myles.”

I hum into my next lick. Incapable of answering when she tastes this sweet.

“Don’t treat me like I’m fragile, just because of what happened t-today. Okay?” She struggles to breathe in between every few words. “Not you. Please. I especially need to feel…feel strong now.”

Give her what she wants. Give her what she’s asking for.

What she’s been asking for since the beginning.

It’s not just her plea, it’s my Taylor-sense encouraging me to be rough, to fulfill that craving she confided in me— and God knows I’m not a gentle giant. Definitely not right now, when I want her so bad, I can barely see straight or think clearly.Mine.

Test the waters. See where her bar has been set.

“That’s a pretty little cunt, isn’t it?” I say in between drags of my tongue, watching her face. Reading her.

Gauging her mood. Finding out where she’s at. And when

she rolls her hips sharply into my next lave of her clit, her fingers tangling in my hair, I know. I know how Taylor wants to be fucked. Fast and nasty and hard. That’s what we’ve been dancing around for days. And it’s good for me, it’s good, because I don’t have a goddamn clue how to make love.

This is as close as I’m ever going to get.

I lean sideways a little and slap the wet flesh between her thighs. Not hard. Just enough to get her attention and roll those beautiful eyes back in her head. “Myles.”

“What?” I smack it again, noticing she’s wetter this time. Damn. Perfect, perfect woman. “You like when I

spank you in front?”

“Yes,” she whines through her teeth.

I can tell if she’s sweating or just covered in dew from the shower steam, but every inch of her is glistening, including her sex, and it’s the hottest shit I’ve seen in my thirty-four years. This girl-next-door schoolteacher glowing with moisture, her legs spread for my mouth. The smack of my hand. I’m not even inside her yet and I’ll never recover.

Never.

My hands travel up her thighs, through the slickness on her heaving ribcage and close around her breasts, squeezing, before I go to work on her nipples. They’ve gotten hard every time we’ve been on the verge of fucking —hell, they pucker up even when we’reeye fucking. Extra sensitive. As soon as I brush my thumbs over those peaks, her trembles get more intense and I go faster with my tongue. Faster and faster, up and down on her clit until she’s got one hand yanking at my hair, the other clutching

the edge of the vanity. She screams behind clenched teeth and quakes through her first orgasm, and God help me, I lick it up. I bask in that sweetness and let her see I’m eager for it, proud of it, and she shakes all the harder for my animal grunts and lapping tongue.

But there’s a frantic pulse inside of me, urging me to my feet. Crowding into the V of her thighs with cock in hand.

My jeans are around my ankles and I’m a mess. A moaning, dripping mess and there’s nothing in the world that can save me but her. Looking into her dazed eyes, I see nothing but encouragement. I want to be sure, though. “You need to stop, sweetheart, we’ll stop. You hear me? On a fucking dime. Whether it kills me or not.”

“I don’t want to stop.” She scoots another inch toward the edge of the sink and tugs on my hips, digs her nails into them. “I don’t want you to hold back, either.”

My sides start to heave, harsh breaths from my nose causing the steam to swirl in between us. Fingers fumbling for the condom in my pocket.Rip. Roll.

Jesus, I’m a bull waiting for the gate to open.

“Should we turn the water off?” she says, her focus zeroed in on my mouth.

“No.” I crowd in close, pressing her face into my shoulder, positioning myself at her warm, wet entrance with my other hand. When I’ve got just the head tucked inside paradise, I circle my hands around back of her and take two handfuls of ass. “If anyone comes home, the shower is going to muffle the sound of me bottoming out in this pussy.”

I drive forward, not slow, not fast, somewhere in between, and I don’t stop until I’m buried and I actually shout. While she sobs into my shoulder, I shout at the swiftness of my balls jacking up, throbbing against my undercarriage. And it’s no wonder, because she’s a dream.

Like I knew she’d be, but a million times better. Slick and snug and pulsing. Despite the very real threat of coming too early, I can’t stop my hips from grinding her into the counter, trying to gain more ground inside of her. Needing all of her to be mine.Mine.

“You still want it rough, now that you feel what I’m working with?”

Her breath escapes in a rush against my shoulder. “Y- yes, please. Yes.”

“You’re too sweet between the legs to say please, Taylor.

You just ask for Daddy and I’ll do the rest.” Yeah. And doesn’t that word make her clench like a motherfucker?

Thought so.

I bite down on the slope of her neck and begin thrusting.

Fast. Hard. I have to bar a forearm around the back of her hips to keep her from slipping and hitting the mirror, but hell, she’s incredible. She lets her neck loosen and fall back so I’m looking right at her shaking tits while I pound in deep. The steam has made her shiny all over, plastered her hair to her neck and cheeks. God. God. I can’t get deep enough inside of this woman. The way she rolls her lower body into every surge of my hips is breaking me. Making me more frantic, turning my self-control to dust. Our flesh is smacking together, wet and eager, and I’m nearly using all the force I’ve got on her. Nearly.

If I keep this pace up, I’m going to come. It’s inevitable.

We’re caught in a rhythm that’s only supposed to happen at the very end, at the top of the peak. Mentally, emotionally, I’m not ready yet, though. I need more of her. I haven’t absorbed enough of Taylor. So I slow down slightly, but continue to push my cock deep, deep, my right hand coming around front so I can play with her clit. She whimpers my name, both of us looking down to watch my thumb strum that beautiful nub. Faster and faster, her chest rising and falling with exertion, the fingers of her right hand spearing through my chest hair, twisting until I groan.

“Go on. Scrape me up, baby,” I growl on top of her mouth. “Fuck me up.”

She rakes her nails down my shoulders and I lose my grip on the slower pace, once again railing her on the sink, my thumb working overtime on that swollen button until finally, finally, she’s shuddering, crying out into our wet, messy kiss, her pussy convulsing around me. So tight that my ears start to ring and my hands move on their own, crushing her against me, my hips pressing her thighs wider, wider, so I can feel every little tremor. Oh my God. My God.

This woman is a fucking drug. No, she’s the high. And I’m not done. I won’t be done.

“More,” I rasp, lifting her off the sink, no idea of my destination. Only that we need to stay in this bathroom.

This private world of ours where tomorrow never comes. I carry her, mouth to mouth, across the marble floor. I might never let her feet touch the floor again, this fucking princess. I’m swallowing vows that are dying to be made.

My cock is so stiff, I’m half delirious. It’s unacceptable that I haven’t given her all of me yet. All of me. She asked for it, didn’t she? Yeah.

I slide her down the front of my body, turning her to face

the glass shower stall.

“Keep it dripping. I’m going back in.”

I’m not sure if she knows exactly what’s coming or if she just flattens her palms against the glass for balance, but it’s exactly what needs to happen. We’re so in sync, I briefly wonder if I’m dreaming. But no. No, she backs that ass up into my lap and I grind between her cheeks and almost blow over the perfect friction. It’sso good. There’s nothing more real than her. Than us.

Heart pounding wildly, breathing erratic, I yank Taylor up onto her tiptoes and slam into her from behind. I don’t muffle her scream in time. I don’t even bother. Nothing matters but her sodden cunt and the way she’s clawing at the glass, working her hips in jerking little circles, giving me a standing lap dance that has me groaning at the ceiling. “You trying to make me nut, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” she gasps, those fragile muscles at the base of her spine flexing with the motion of her lower body, steam dappling her spine. Glorious. Beautiful. Perfection.

“Could have filled this condom ten times by now, Taylor, I just don’t want to stop.” I wrap her hair around my fist and pull back, raking my teeth hard up the side of her neck, closing my teeth around her ear, and Jesus, it makes her pulse wildly around my cock. Loving it. Loving the roughness. So I give it to her, no holds barred. I stoop forward, keeping her elevated on her tiptoes, cheek

pressed to the glass of the shower stall, and fuck her hard enough to make her teeth clack together. “Do you want me

to stop?”

“Faster.”

Son of a bitch. My vision splits into two. She’s wrecking me. There’s a part of me that almost hates myself for using any ounce of aggression on a woman, but the evidence that she needs it, craves it, is everywhere. Soaking the hair between my legs, tightening up around me like she’s going to have another orgasm and I speed her toward it. Both of us. I let that final barrier against my strength drop and she’s off the ground now, she’s bent at a ninety-degree angle, ass in my lap and I’m grunting with every thrust.

“Ruined me for jerking off before I even had you. Didn’t you, Taylor? Knew you’d be extra slick around this cock.

Knew you’d love me breaking you off.”

This has to be too much, too aggressive, too revealing, but I can’t stop and then…I have no idea how we get here, but she’s on hands and knees on the bathroom floor, hair trapped in my fist, my hips smacking off her ass. I’m out of my mind. It’s too much. It has to be too much for her, right?

If my heart feels like it’s going to explode out of my chest?

But then we meet eyes in the glass of the shower stall.

It’s fogged up, so I can barely make out her features, but I can see her mouth open in an O. I can see she’s present, being fulfilled. Her eyes open and I can’t tell if she’s looking at me, but Jesus, just the possibility that she might be watching me when I’m this vulnerable, this stripped bare, on the verge of ejaculating harder than I ever have in my fucking life, is enough to fire me off the map.

Completely off the grid. My balls empty with so much force that I forget my own name.

“Work it tight, baby. Baby. Perfect for me. JesusChrist.

Don’t you ever get hurt on me again. Don’t youever.” I’m moaning words into her wet neck that don’t even make sense, but she’s hit a third peak, she’s coming with me, and there is nothing in this world that makes better sense than Taylor squeezing around me, gasping, calling my name while her knees squeak up and back on the marble floor because I’m still pumping away. Can’t stop. Can’t stop even though I’m almost on empty. “Taylor.”

I don’t recognize my own ragged voice, but she seems to know what I’m saying. What I’m asking. And she turns, climbing into my lap. Clinging to me with her arms around my neck, her still trembling legs around my hips. I’m too stunned by the intensity of what just happened to do anything but fall back onto my ass with her safely in my arms, trying desperately to organize my thoughts or at least breathe correctly, but it’s pointless. All I can do is sit there in a daze. This second grade teacher just rocked my fucking world.

Minutes pass before our breathing goes back to normal.

I’m incapable of figuring out what happens next. What I would like to do is keep her in bed for a month. Or maybe a whole calendar of months. But should I sleep with her again? Wouldn’t that be leading her on? We decided this would just be about sex and if I can just pretend there isn’t a landslide of unfamiliar feelings happening inside of me, maybe I can stick to that—

“Yeah.” Her arms drop from around my neck and she sits back, yawning, more drowsy and gorgeous than anyone has the right to be. “Yup, that’s definitely how I like it.” She kisses me on the cheek. A peck. On the cheek. “Thanks for helping me confirm.”

She’s off my lap before I know what’s happening, turning off the shower and disappearing into the bedroom.

Thanks for helping meconfirm? What exactly is going on here? I don’t know, but I’m damn well going to find out.

I push to my feet and haul my jeans back up, cursing when I stumble slightly to the right. Jesus, she really did a number on me. Everywhere. Even my chest hurts. “Taylor,”

I bark, joining her in the bedroom. Finding her already in some dress that looks like a long T-shirt. “Thanks for helping me confirm? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

She wrinkles her nose at my question, as if the answer should be obvious. God, she’s very, very pretty, glowing after her three orgasms. “I mean exactly what I said. Thank you for not treating me like the future head of the bake sale committee. You trusted me to know what I wanted and you gave it to me. I appreciate that. But we agreed to no strings.” There’s no deception in her eyes. No guile. She’s not playing a head game with me. She really means it. We almost altered time and space in that bathroom and she’s content to walk away. And now here I am, the first man alive wishing a womanwas playing a head game with him.

What is wrong with me? This is exactly what I wanted. To experience her without anyone getting attached or hurt.

When I say nothing, she prompts me with a raised eyebrow.

“Remember?”

“Yes, I remember,” I shout, but it comes out funny.

What’s wrong with my throat?

She keeps going. “I’ll be more confident in asking for what I need now.”

“It’s not going to be…” I stop myself before I can say the rest.It’s not going to be like this with anyone else. Saying that out loud makes me a bastard. I’m not offering her a relationship. How dare I ruin her optimism when it comes to having one with somebody else? How dare I want to track down everyone who might hold her hand in the future and lock them in the lion cage at the zoo? And watch them

be devoured while they scream for help?

I don’t have that right.

I have no rights to her.

Feeling utterly numb, I watch her sail past me.

“Excuse me,” she murmurs. “I need to find Jude.”