Only You by K.T. Quinn

32

Molly

The Day He Wasn’t Nice

The days ticked by. We stayed in bed late into the mornings since there was no rush to get up. Neither of us wanted to leave each other’s arms, anyway. We snuggled together and watched the Roman sunrise stream through the window, a jumble of tangled sheets and tangled legs.

Donovan exercised in the gym every day. I started going with him, walking on the treadmill next to him while listening to my daily news podcast. It kept me updated on the state of affairs with the virus, and it got my blood flowing a little bit. That was better than sitting in bed and doom-scrolling all day. At least this way I felt like I was doing something productive with my time.

We started watching movies in the lounge after dinner. They had hundreds of DVDs to choose from, and although they were somewhat out of date, it was better than Italian Seinfeld on the hotel channel.

One night, after watching Mission Impossible, neither of us were ready to go to bed. So Donovan made Negronis behind the bar and we played another game of pool.

“Same game we played the other night?” I asked. “Winner gets to make the other person do whatever they want?”

Donovan leaned on his pool stick and smirked. “You’re not mad at me for hustling you?”

“Hah! So you were hustling me!”

“I don’t know why you’re complaining. It resulted in my tongue inside that pretty pink pussy of yours.”

“Ohh, alliteration,” I said while sipping my drink. “Poetic for a line cook.”

He scoffed. “Line cook? I got promoted, Feisty. In case you didn’t notice, I’m the chef of my own hotel kitchen.”

“Damn right you are. And almost all your reviews are five stars.”

“Almost?”

“The cookies you baked the other day were dry,” I teased. “Four stars.”

“They were shortbread. They’re supposed to be dry.”

I pulled out my phone and pretended to type with my thumbs. “Poor customer service. One star.”

“Forget the game,” he said, tossing aside his stick. “I’ll show you customer service.”

He cradled my head in both hands and kissed me so hard that I was instantly wet. I leaned against the pool table and savored the way his lips felt, with a hint of licorice taste from the drink.

The way he held me, the way he kissed me, made it clear he had been thinking about this for a while.

Donovan ripped away from the kiss and unbuttoned my jeans, then pulled them down along with my panties. I kicked them off and he lifted me onto the edge of the pool table, then kissed me again while removing his own pants. I heard them fall to the ground.

“Good thing we turned off the security cameras,” I breathed.

He guided himself into my waiting lips, burying himself deep into my pussy without hesitation. Both of us exhaled together as the pleasure of our intimate contact took over. Donovan rested his forehead against mine and caressed my cheek with his hand while I squeezed him with my wet heat.

The felt from the edge of the pool table was soft against my bare ass cheeks as Donovan began making love to me. His tongue massaged its way into my mouth and I met it with my own, moving wetly together while his hips gyrated between my legs. For several minutes we were a jumble of grunts and groans and kisses.

“Was this what you wanted?” he rumbled into my neck. “If we had played the game and you won?”

I draped my arms over his shoulders and said, “It’s kind of what I wanted.”

He bent down to kiss my neck. “Kind of?”

I bit my lip. “I was hoping you wouldn’t be so nice to me.”

Donovan slowed down. “Not so nice?”

I nodded while looking up at him.

I didn’t know any other way to ask. In fact, I wasn’t used to asking for what I wanted in bed—or on a pool table, as it were. But with Donovan, I felt like I could tell him what I wanted. Like he wouldn’t judge me.

He grinned lustily, then gripped my waist in his hands. He pulled himself back, then slammed forward as hard as he could.

I moaned as new elation spread through my body.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked in his deep voice.

I nodded, and as soon as I did he pounded me again.

“Oh God yes.” I leaned back on my elbows as he fucked me harder.

Donovan pawed at my breasts while jack-hammering into me, rougher and rougher. All the while he kept his eyes locked onto mine, drinking in my desire like it was as intoxicating as the Negroni.

After a few minutes he said, “I know what you really want.”

He pulled me down from the table and kissed my neck, dragging his teeth across my skin. Then he spun me around. He planted a strong hand on my back and bent me over the pool table, then filled me from behind without hesitation.

I cried out with pleasure as he took control. The new angle was intense, but in just the right way. I gazed over my shoulder at him as he grabbed my waist and began slamming into me, holding nothing back.

Donovan moaned loudly, and I opened my lips to join my cries of ecstasy to his. I rolled my head back and caught a glimpse of our reflection in the mirror behind the bar. I was bent over the pool table, back arched and ass in the air. Donovan’s gorgeous body gripped mine tightly, arms bulging with taut strength as he refused to let go.

We looked hot.

As new pleasure overwhelmed me, I clenched my eyes shut and let my moan echo through the empty lounge.