She seemed a little dazed. I’d be dazed too after that many orgasms in a row. Women didn’t know how lucky they were.

The squirting had been a major turn-on. I’d seen it in the occasional porn flick—I honestly didn’t watch a lot of porn—but had never encountered it in real life, despite my pretty impressive track record with the ladies.

That said, I wouldn’t mind encountering it again and again.

With the woman beneath me.

She had a magic pussy. Or so it seemed to me, at least.

She closed her eyes, biting her lower lip as I thrust into her.

“Open your eyes, baby. I want you to see me fucking you.”

“Mmm.” She opened her eyes halfway. “Feels good.”

“Sure does.”

Thrust.

Thrust.

Thrust.

I was close. Damn. I’d just come in her mouth, and already I was ready to release inside her sweet heat.

Thrust.

Thrust.

And once more…

“God! Lacey. God.” I plunged into her balls deep, letting go.

Letting go.

A wave of emotion swept over me, nearly bringing a tear to my eye.

Strange.

I didn’t cry. Couldn’t remember the last time I had. Certainly never after a fuck.

I felt so complete, though, still embedded in Lacey’s warmth. So fulfilled. So…

I pulled out.

This was way too much “feeling” for me.

I rolled over onto my back, my arm over my forehead. I lay tense for a moment. Would she want to talk? Of course she would. Women always wanted to talk.

A few minutes later, though, she let out a soft snore. I smiled. No talking. Good. Hell, if I’d had that many orgasms, I’d be out cold too. I yawned, stretching.

I should get out of here. Go home. God himself only knew what awaited me at the office tomorrow.

But I didn’t move. Didn’t want to move.

And that scared the shit out of me.

I ended up taking off, but I left a note.

Damn. I’d never left a woman a note before in my life. But I had already asked her to dinner the next night, so I figured a note was appropriate. I kept it simple.

Had a great time. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven for dinner.

Rock

Perfect. No one could read anything into that, right?

Back to the hotel for me. My father’s Manhattan penthouse was still a crime scene. Who knew when I’d be able to move in? After grabbing a cab, I took the elevator up to my suite, my soiled shirt in hand. I didn’t actually expect Lacey to have it dry-cleaned. I’d kind of had the wine in the face thing coming.

Why had I been such a dick?

I huffed to myself as I inserted the key card to open the door to my suite.