Holy hell, Natalie has insanely sensitive nipples, and I adore her tits. Who would have predicted a more perfect union? Maybe my hands should marry her breasts.

“You won’t mind if I just verify precisely how turned on you are?” I tease.

“Please feel free to conduct a proper and thorough test . . . Inspector Hammer,” she says with a grin.

I laugh as I run a hand down her belly, then, as I slide my palm between her thighs, I stop laughing. Even I can’t make a joke about this kind of wetness because it’s just too fucking fantastic. She’s soaked through her panties.

Beautifully soaked.

I crowd against her, my big body pushing hers down to the bed. She crawls back and props herself on her elbows. I climb over her, my clothes still on.

I lower my head to her chest, draw a nipple into my mouth, and suck hard. She bucks up against me as I lick and suck and kiss her nipples. This is the true jackpot—learning my woman likes having her nipples played with.

She moans, and groans, and grabs my head again.

She’s got me in a headlock, and trust me, this girl knows how to execute that move, but there’s no way I’m letting go of this beautiful breast in my mouth. Nothing to worry about there. You’d have to pry me off from this taste of heaven. She widens her legs and rocks up into me as I draw her nipple deeper, flicking my tongue against it, then biting down. She lets out a little shout.

“That drives me crazy,” she moans, never letting go of me, and I wonder momentarily if she could actually come from this kind of play. Seems like a far-fetched fantasy, but I’d be willing to go the distance and find out. As I devour her breast, my hand squeezes the other tit, kneading, pinching, and pulling until Natalie thrashes under me.

Jesus Christ, this woman is more than interesting in bed. She’s electric. She’s wild. She’s so damn sensual and in touch with her body. It’s addictive, the way she wants what I want. She pushes my head away and stares at me. Her eyes are crazed, hungry, as she jams her hands between us, hunting for my jeans and fumbling for the zipper. “Now, Wyatt. I need you now. I need you inside me.”

There are just certain words that cause instantaneous action in a man. No matter what else you’re doing, when a woman says, “I need you inside me,” you stop, drop, and answer the call.

In seconds, Natalie’s shed her panties, and I’m naked too, rubbing the head of my dick against the slick paradise of her pussy. She grabs my ass. Her hands on me make my head spin. Fuck, I want her so much. Tonight won’t be enough to quench this desire.

I start to push into her, when I realize my dick is bareback.

“Shit,” I curse, hanging my head low.

“What is it?”

“Condom. Need to get one.”

But her hands grip me harder. “I’m on the pill. Are you safe?”

I nod. “Clean as a whistle.”

“Same here.” She lifts her face and brings her lips to my ear. “I think my husband can fuck me without a condom.”

And that does it. Something about the way those words fall from her mouth in such an inviting purr makes it impossible for me to resist.

I sink into her, and it’s staggering. She’s hot and tight, and the wetness is infinitely more wonderful because I feel it with no barriers. Skin against skin. Hardness against heat. Her and me. She raises her knees and hooks her ankles against my lower back, and I pump. I shove in and out of her. Watching her face. Studying her reaction. Loving the way she breathes out hard and groans.

She’s so noisy, and her sounds are a drug. I love that she can’t hold back. That she’s a moaner, and an “oh god”-er, and a “yes, just like that”-er. Makes my job so much easier to know what the lady likes.

And by all accounts, the lady likes it when I fuck her. When I drive in deep. When I stroke back, nearly pulling out of her. And when I drop my face to the Candy Land of her tits again, sucking on each nipple till she moans.

When I let go, I move my mouth to her neck, nipping her. My reward is her lifting her hips faster and wilder as her noises go into overdrive.

I take her with deep, fast thrusts. “Love this. Love your hot, wet pussy,” I rasp out. “Fucking love fucking you.”

“Love it, too,” she says in a broken pant.

Sweat slicks our chests, and the room fills with the sounds of us. Flesh slapping, feral grunts, guttural cries, and the bed smacking the wall. This is hotel sex. This is the furious race along the fast track to a fiery release.

She wriggles and writhes, then she drags her nails down my back.

“Leave marks,” I tell her, like a command.

“I’m going to,” she says, digging in deeper and scratching my flesh in a way that sends heat spiraling in every corner of my body. I like it rough. I like the evidence of rough sex, too.

She lifts her head and kisses me, a hard and hungry kiss, full of teeth and need. We claw at each other’s mouths as I pound into her, and she urges me on with thrusts that meet mine, and nails that dig into my ass.

When our lips lose contact, her blue eyes lock on mine, and they’re so honest, so full of desire.

And they disarm me. They strip me of all my defenses. They threaten to undo all the reasons I know we can’t make this last beyond tonight. They make my heart beat harder, and I slow down.

I ease the pace.

I take a break from the relentlessness of our lovemaking. So does she, as her hands quit scratching. Instead, they travel along my back, up to my neck, and into my hair, making me shudder.