“I’m good,” she says through gritted teeth, apparently reading my mind. “It’s good. Keep going.”
That’s all the permission I need. I smack the belt down again. And again. Who the fuck am I? I don’t even know. Five more times until her ass is bright red and warm to the touch, and now I know I’m going to break my promise about keeping things in my pants, but I have a feeling she won’t mind. So, in between lashes, I get a condom ready with my other hand—yeah, I’m better at it than I thought I’d be too. Then I drop the belt to the ground, undo my tuxedo pants, and slide on in.
She’s so tight in this position, so warm, so wet—even through the condom I can feel how wet she is. It’s fucking incredible.
“Oh, god, that’s scrummy,” she says with such a blissful sigh that I have to assume that she’s enjoying herself. Enjoying me.
“I’m taking scrummy as a compliment,” I tell her as I pull out to my tip. “But whether it is or isn’t, you’re about to get bloody fucked.”
She tries to laugh at my use of her slang, but it’s cut short when I slam back in. I’m relentless now, driving into her over and over and over, pummeling her like she’s the last woman I’ll ever fuck, like she’s the only woman I was made to fuck, like I’ve never wanted to fuck anyone in my life, and I know that’s a bad sign. This is familiar territory—a place I specifically try to avoid.
I don’t want to be here. I want to only be here.
When I come, I close my eyes, and all I see on the back of my lids is her, and as my seed spurts long and hot from my body, I can’t decide if I’m falling apart or if, finally, I’m coming together.
Afterward, Genny slips away to the bathroom to clean up.
And I take my belt, wrap it around my neck, and try to strangle myself before falling face-first onto her bed.
What. The Fuck. Am I doing?
I whipped a girl. Whipped her. This isn’t who I am. What the hell is she bringing out of me? Will I ever be able to go back to my usual loverboy ways?
Do I even want to?
Of course I want to. No questions asked. This is just good sex. Really good sex. That’s my excuse for being here.
But I know better than this. There are so many rules I’ve broken, and now I’m paying the price because my insides feel like goo and all I want to do is take off all my clothes and stay the night in her arms.
Which would be a big fat mistake.
And what the fuck was I doing inviting her to a weekend in the Hamptons? And telling her that I’ll help her with Hudson? Why would I stick my neck out for a girl I barely know?
Great. Now my chest aches.
Oh, god, am I…am I falling for this girl?
And fuck, if I am, is she taking advantage of me? That’s always how it goes. I fall then I get hurt then—
Nope. It’s not possible.
She can’t be pulling the wool over my eyes because firstly, I’m the one who invited her to get all business-buddy with my brother, which is stupid and will probably piss Hudson off, but that’s reason enough to follow through with my offer.
And secondly, I’m not falling for her. I broke my rules, but it doesn’t mean anything. My mission statement is still clear in my head.
But, my chest…
Moaning, I roll over on my back, rubbing the spot at the center of my sternum. I’m too young for a heart attack, right? It’s got to be heartburn. Or a pulled muscle. I did put a lot into that whipping. I probably strained something. It’s definitely not emotions. I am not feeling things for her. I. Am. Not.
I’ve got to get going.
I bolt up and loop my belt around my waist, and then start frantically searching for my cell.
“Have you seen my phone?” I ask when she returns from the bathroom.
She peers up at me, surprised. “You’re leaving already?”
I try not to meet her eyes, afraid if I do I won’t remember all the reasons I shouldn’t stay. Mainly, because it’s not Chandler protocol. “Just as soon as I find my phone.”
“Here it is.” She holds her hand out, and sure enough, my phone is in her palm.
“Thanks.” I swear I already looked on the dresser near where she’s standing. “Where was it, anyway?”
“Oh, uh. You left it in the bathroom. I brought it out with me.”
“Ah. Well.” I pocket my phone quickly, eager to get out of there. “I better go.”
“Yes. You said that you were leaving. See you Saturday, then.” I’m not sure if I’m imagining the disappointment in her voice or not because I’m ignoring it.
I wait until I’m safely in the elevator before I let out a sigh of relief. It’s so much easier to think when she’s not standing in front of me, all soft curves, her plump lips ready to nibble, her long dark hair perfect for pulling.
She’s sexy. That’s all it is. Pure sex on legs.
And, man, those legs…
Focus, Chandler.
See? That’s definitely what it is. Desire, pure and simple. I don’t feel anything except unadulterated lust. I don’t really care about getting her in with my brother. I just want more time between her luscious legs. Yeah, that’s it.
I’m so good at reasoning that, by the time I make it to my car, I almost believe what I’m telling myself.
But it’s not until I’m halfway home that I’m thinking clearly enough to remember that I never went in her hotel bathroom.
So why on earth did Genevieve have my phone?
10
I wait until after nine the next morning to give Hudson a recap about dinner. I don’t expect him in his office, so I’m not surprised when I peek in and see it’s empty. Plopping into his chair, I sit back and prop my feet up on his desk.