Blush for Me (Page 8)

“So much better than okay.” I wrap my legs around his ass and tug. “All the way.”

“Don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m too fucking wet for that.”

He glides the rest of the way, bracing himself over me, staring down at me with deep green eyes and tousled hair.

“Your tattoos look so bright on these white sheets, Kat. You’re so full of color, I don’t know where to look first.”

“Stop being romantic,” I reply, smiling playfully. “You’re supposed to just fuck me blind.”

He cocks a brow. “No pretty words?”

I shake my head slowly and roll my hips, making his jaw clench. Pure female satisfaction wraps around me as I kiss his arm, then bite the muscle, and suddenly I’m flipped over and Mac slaps my ass.

Hard.

I’m pressed flat against the bed, his legs straddling mine, and he’s fucking me hard and fast. All I can do is fist the pillow and moan in delight as he hits just the right spot, over and over. In this position, he feels even bigger, filling me up, making me crazy.

He licks between my shoulder blades, then bites my neck. “Better?”

I can only nod. My body is on fire, feeling more than I thought was possible.

He fists my hair, at the nape of my neck. He doesn’t pull, but holds tight, reminding me who’s in charge.

It’s just about the hottest thing ever.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he rasps, never losing the momentum. “I’ve wanted to be inside you since I first saw you. I’m going to fuck you, every day that we’re here, Kat.”

“Yes.” Oh my God, his voice, full of sex and promises, is going to send me over the edge. “Fuck.”

“That’s right.” He shifts, planting his knees between mine so he can raise my hips up off the bed, slaps my other cheek and pushes balls-deep, and holds himself there, grinding against me, making me lose my ever-loving mind.

Finally, both of us panting and sweaty, he pulls out and collapses next to me. Neither of us can talk, which is fine because I don’t know what I’d say anyway.

What does one say after they’ve had the best sex of their life? Thank you seems trite.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

“That I’m hungry,” I lie, and turn to face him. “And that you should order room service for us.”

He smirks. “What do you want?”

“One of each.”

Time flies when you’re having fun. It’s an old cliché, but I never realized just how true it is until this week. It’s flown by, touring vineyards and sitting in on classes during the day, and going to bed with Mac every night.

Every. Night.

The man can fuck like nobody’s business, bless him.

But now it’s our last day together. I’m not silly enough to think that we’ve fallen in love this week. I won’t pine for him like a lovesick teenager after we leave here.

But I will remember him fondly, and the amazing week we spent together in wine country. I guess it is rather romantic, even though a sexcation is anything but romantic.

“We’re here,” Mac whispers in my ear as the bus pulls up to our final vineyard for the week.

“Awesome.”

“Where were you just now?” he asks, and drags his hand up and down my thigh. He makes me want to purr. The things this man can do with his hands should come with a warning label.

“I’m right here,” I reply.

“No, you were somewhere far away,” he murmurs.

“Just thinking about all the things I have to do when I get home,” I lie easily with a smile as we all file off the bus.

I’m not drinking much today. I’ve been beyond tipsy every day by the time we made our way back to the hotel, and while it’s been fun, I’m feeling the effects of too much alcohol.

I may not be over the crazy sex with Mac, but I’m quite over the wine, and that’s a sentence I never thought I’d say in my life.

“You’re far away again,” Mac says, smiling down at me and holding a wineglass out for me to take.

“Sorry.” I shrug. “It’s been an eventful week.”

His green eyes flare in lust. “Indeed it has.”

I smirk, then shake my head when he offers the glass to me again. “I think I’ll pass today.”

His brows climb into his hairline. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine, I’ve just had a lot of alcohol this week. I’m going to take it easy today.”

“Good idea,” he replies with a nod, and turns to the sommelier. “We won’t be tasting the samples today, but we will still want you to tell us about each one, and pour one glass for us to smell and examine.”

“Absolutely,” the young man says with a professional smile, and begins his presentation. The wine smells amazing, and I make a note to order several cases for the bar before Mac and I make our way out to walk in the vines.

“This is my favorite part,” I say quietly as we meander through the tall, green vines, all planted in perfect rows for as far as the eye can see.

“The grapes?” he asks.

“Yep.” I stop and hold a bunch of red grapes in my hands. They’re not quite ready to pick yet, but they will be in a couple of days. “They’re gorgeous.”

“It smells good out here,” he replies, and takes a deep breath. “We’ve been lucky with the weather.”