Authors: Noelle Adams
Road Tripping (30 page)
“Ethan,” she
moaned. “Can’t believe this. Going to...soon. Can’t believe it.”
He mumbled
something incoherent as he pressed kisses onto her temple.
“Yeah, Ethan.
Yeah, go faster. Need it faster.” She increased the tempo of her pelvis, and Ethan
moved immediately into the faster rhythm. “That’s it,” she gasped, as she felt
the sensations build up toward a rapid, delicious peak. “Working. So good. More,
faster.”
The station
wagon was shaking a bit at the force of Ethan’s motion. As she panted in the
back of the rocking car, Ashley felt wanton, wild, and a little bit sleazy.
She was already
almost there. Her voice as she cried out was both shocked and delighted. “Yeah,
coming. God, so good.” Her eyes met Ethan’s, and in them she saw something so
hot and possessive that it was both thrilling and overwhelming. She had to
close her eyes.
“Come, honey,” Ethan
urged her huskily, his lips at her ear. He was touching her everywhere. She
could feel him everywhere.
She thought she
was almost there, but she couldn’t quite claim her release yet. She tried to
get her legs higher around his back and said in a strangled voice, “More, Ethan.
Faster, harder.”
He raised
himself up on his arms, straightening them at the elbow, so that his upper body
was no longer directly on top of her. This gave him more leverage, and he
started pumping into her with more power and speed. It hurt a little more than
before, but Ashley immediately forgot about the pain as everything deepened and
sharpened.
And she could
no longer form any words. She expressed herself in broken grunts and cries, and
her voice gained volume and urgency as the rhythm of their bodies intensified.
The station wagon was rocking wildly, and Ashley’s breasts were bouncing back
and forth from the motion, even though she was still wearing her shirt and bra.
They were both
drenched in sweat now, and the sound of their skin slapping together was the
most erotic thing Ashley had ever heard.
She couldn’t
form words, as she finally reached her peak. At some point earlier, she must
have stretched her arms above her head because she was desperately clutching at
the headrest of the driver’s seat. She tried to keep her eyes open so she could
keep looking at Ethan’s face—he had finally lost control and was seeking his
own release in her body with wild abandon—but the pleasure as she came was too
overpowering.
It washed over
her like a wave. Felt like she was drowning. She seemed to have lost control of
her body, and there was nothing in the world but these frantic sensations...and
Ethan.
The one part of
herself that could still process information recognized that Ethan was choking
out her name, had followed her into climax.
It was an
indefinable span of time before either of them could do anything but sprawl
limply against each other and take erratic, urgent breaths.
Finally, Ethan
heaved some of his weight off of her. “You okay?” he asked unevenly.
“Yeah,” she
breathed, wiping some of the sweat off of Ethan’s face with her hand so it
wouldn’t keep dripping on her. “Think I might have passed out a little bit.”
“Me too.”
Marietta hadn’t realized Harry
was quite so rich.
She knew his
suit was expensive, of course. After working in the family restaurant for so
long—one of the most popular restaurants in Aix—she could evaluate the relative
expense of customers’ clothes and accessories.
The car the
valet pulled around, however, was much more posh than she’d expected. Plus,
both the bellboy and the night manager of the hotel began to greet him by name
until they found him kissing her and discreetly withdrew.
His suite was
on the top floor of the hotel and looked vast compared to her nice, but
compact, room five floors down. It was funny they happened to be staying in the
same hotel tonight. Even so, their worlds were obviously very far apart.
“It’s a work
thing. I don’t actually need a suite that a whole battalion could bivouac in.”
He must have read her expression as she stared at the luxury suite.
His dry tone
and clever word choice made her laugh and helped shake the last of her
reservations. What did it matter whether he had some high-powered job and could
fit her whole apartment in this sitting room?
This was just
about sex for the night.
Her excitement
returned with full force—not only intense arousal but also a giddy joy that she
was actually doing this, taking this step, pulling out of the shelter she’d hid
behind for the last two years.
She hadn’t
intended to have sex this evening. She’d just planned to pick up a man in the
club to prove she was ready to move on with her life. But his interest in her
filled her with a heady rush.
She wanted to
do this. She really wanted to do this.
“Did you want
something to drink? They brought up some Scotch for me earlier, or I could call
down for—”
“I’m not
thirsty.”
He’d been
placing his tablet on the desk across the room, but turned to look at her. “Say
that again.”
She frowned and
repeated, “I’m not thirsty.”
“I was
listening to your accent. Are you French?”
“My mother was
French. My father was American.”
“Ah, then that
explains it. Your accent is incredibly sexy.”
His smile was
so compelling she walked over to him without thinking. “I put it on just for
you.”
He chuckled and
reached out for her, resting his hands on her hips and pressing her lower body
against his. “I’m flattered. What other accents do you have in your arsenal?”
“Comrade, I am
not thirsty.” Trying to keep a straight face, she spoke in an exaggerated
Russian accent.
“Very, very
sexy.”
He kissed her
breathless, until she was clutching his shoulders and barely able to stay on
her feet. When he finally pulled his mouth away and leaned his forehead against
hers, she managed to say in a thick Spanish accent, “Oh, señor, I am not
thirsty.”
She felt a warm
thrill when he laughed again. Then a hotter thrill when he kissed her.
This time, the
kiss took them through the double doors to the bedroom. When the back of her
knees hit the mattress, she fell onto the bed with Harry on top. He was hot and
hard and heavy above her, and her body pulsed to feel even more of him.
Their kiss
broke with the tumble, and he trailed kisses along her jaw and throat.
She arched her
neck in pleasure and exerted all her concentration to say in a bad Cockney
accent, “Oi, guv’ner, I’m not bloody thirsty.”
He almost
collapsed on her, his face buried in the hollow of her neck, shuddering with
half-suppressed mirth. Not even his kisses felt as good as his amused, shaking
body against hers.
“Damn, Etta,”
he said, his voice thick with amusement and something even hotter. “You’re
incredible.”
Not the most
romantic of declarations, but it thrilled her just the same.
He kissed her
again, and the mood shifted. Became more urgent and intense. He stroked her as
they kissed, and before she knew it he’d pulled her dress over her head.
She’d worn sexy
underwear to boost her confidence, but still felt self-conscious as he stared
at her with a palpable hunger.
No one had ever
looked at her like that.
She shifted and
struggled to keep from blurting for him to hurry up and get on with it.
A smile tilted
the corners of his mouth. “You’re so beautiful.”
The pleasure of
that remark relaxed her as he mouthed his way from her throat to her
collarbone. Her breasts seemed to strain in her bra as his lips got closer and
closer to them.
She arched when
his mouth teased her nipple through the lace fabric and gasped when he fondled
her other breast.
He gently
unclasped her bra and caressed her until she wriggled beneath him, moaning and
whimpering.
Eager to
satisfy the throbbing ache between her legs, she pulled at his suit jacket to
get it off his shoulders.
It took a
while, since he was too busy twirling her nipples and mouthing her belly to
help, but she finally dropped the jacket over the side of the bed and pulled at
his tie.
He raised his
shoulders when she accidentally strangled him.
“Sorry.” She
stifled a laugh. “It would be easier if you’d stop torturing me and help.”
“Torture, is
it?” He unknotted his tie while she tackled the buttons of his white shirt.
“A very nice
kind of torture, but you’re driving me crazy here.” She groaned when she saw a
T-shirt under his dress shirt. “Why are you wearing so many clothes?”
He hid a smile
and instead arched his eyebrows. “It is generally considered unprofessional to
sweat through one’s shirt.”
She giggled,
pushing him onto his back to better attack the buttons. She made quick work of
his shirt, pulling the sleeves off over his wrists, until his cufflinks
hampered further progress.
Grumbling, she
undid them, noting they looked platinum and had probably cost more than her
bike, the most expensive thing she owned. Nothing about him was flashy or
garish—but everything was worth a fortune.
When she
glanced at his face, she noticed his eyes crawling hungrily over her body. She
wore only her panties, necklace, and earrings, and had forgotten to look sexy.
He didn’t appear to mind.
***
Y
ou
can find out more about Seducing the Enemy
here
.
Noelle handwrote her first
romance novel in a spiral-bound notebook when she was twelve, and she hasn’t
stopped writing since. She has lived in eight different states and currently
resides in Virginia, where she teaches English, reads any book she can get her
hands on, and offers tribute to a very spoiled cocker spaniel.
She loves travel, art, history,
and ice cream. After spending far too many years of her life in graduate
school, she has decided to reorient her priorities and focus on writing
contemporary romances. For more information, please check out her website:
noelle-adams.com
.
Other
Books by Noelle Adams
One
Hot Night: Three Contemporary Romance Novellas