even deeper inside with his cock, and I groaned.
“Sweet mother of all that’s holy,” he growled as he pressed even deeper into me, my back digging into the glass behind me.
“If we fall through this glass,” I whispered. “Will they take us to the hospital? Or allow us to bleed to death?”
My question caused him to chuckle, the slight movement causing his cock to jolt inside of me.
I bit my lip, my hands going to his neck as I half lifted myself off of him before coming back down.
“I may be flexible,” I said as I did it again, groaning on the way down. “But I can’t stay in this position forever. So, you better start to move, buddy.”
He did, pulling out only to push back inside.
He growled when the band of my underwear started to push between us.
In answer to his problem, he roughly yanked them to the side, causing the entire left leg to tear.
“You know,” I grumbled at his show of strength. “I don’t have all that many pairs.”
He started to fuck me harder, pushing in and out, forcing my leg to bend farther than it’d ever bent before.
I was torn between thinking that my leg might very well fall off and wondering if it was normal for my orgasm to be climbing so high.
I’d just convinced myself that I might very well explode for real when he stopped altogether.
“Swear, that sounds like the two people you said don’t like each other are having sex on their balcony,” Martin said. “I can’t see anything, though. Our balconies are too far apart. Plus, it’s super dark over there. Though, it does look like they have lights on in their room. What do you think they have lights on for?”
Brielle said something, but I couldn’t focus.
Because that orgasm that I’d been feeling build earlier? It was bursting through, snatching me by the vagina and pulling so hard that I couldn’t stop myself from crying out.
“Oh, fuck,” I whimpered.
Saint cursed, his mouth coming down to try to stop the flow of words coming out of my mouth, but the damage had already been done.
I felt him grunt into my mouth, and I knew that my orgasm had triggered his own.
“They’re totally having sex,” Martin punctuated through the air. “We should have sex.”
“We don’t even like each other, Martin.” Brielle sounded outraged.
“Well,” Martin said. “You said that they didn’t either. And look where that’s left them.”
Saint slowly loosened his grip on my leg, allowing it to fall.
I groaned at the feeling of relief from my leg being released, but what we’d just done was totally worth it.
Totally. Worth. It.
“I’m sure that they have a really good explanation,” Brielle said. “But, just sayin’, I hope she’s on birth control, because it’s not like we have any condoms here. Even if I did like you, we wouldn’t be having sex. No glove, no love.”
I felt Saint stiffen, then he practically picked me up and led me inside.
The glow from the Christmas tree was practically blinding as he all but carried me into the middle of the room.
Pulling out, he dropped me to my feet, and I sighed at the feeling of emptiness.
“We should’ve talked about birth control,” he admitted softly.
We should have.
Had I been thinking clearly either time that we’d had sex, I would’ve stopped him.
But…
“I just had my period. Like, literally that day we got here was my last day. There’s no chance of me getting pregnant,” I promised.
“We should stop this.” He sounded pained. “We can’t have sex anymore.”
That sucked.
But he was right.
“Can we ask your little fairy godmother for condoms?” I asked hopefully.
He snorted and smacked my ass.
“Go get cleaned up. Maybe now we can both get some sleep,” he said.
That would work for tonight. But what about tomorrow night?
I had a feeling things were about to get really interesting.
CHAPTER 9
Made with love means I licked the spoon.
-Caro to Saint
SAINT
Quarantine Day Twelve
“Hello?” I answered the phone, sounding just as bored as I felt.
At first, the thought of having to spend three weeks at this hotel didn’t sound too bad.
But it was day twelve of our isolation, and I was getting stir crazy.
I wanted to get up and stretch my legs.
I wanted to go outside and chop some wood.
I wanted to go to fucking work.
“Son,” my father said, voice sounding tight. “We have a problem.”
I was instantly alert. “What?”
“There’s a threat to my life,” he said. “This one isn’t like all the others, though. This one is actually quite real, and