Starfire (Peaches Monroe #3)(41)
Author: Mimi Strong

The twins putting our food on the table got big eyes.

“Do you have an agent?” Dalton asked the twins.

When they were suitably freaked out, he said, “It’s okay, I’m just kidding. Thank you for the food.”

They both giggled and scurried away with their little sister.

“You’re good with kids,” I said.

He unwrapped the foil around his burrito and studied it seriously. “No rush,” he said. “We’ll try marriage first.”

I reached for my ring finger, as though I could feel the engagement ring even when it wasn’t on.

~

After dinner, we walked around the city until the sun disappeared and some of the more interesting city residents became aggressive in their panhandling.

We took a taxi to the hotel, then an elevator up to our room on the top floor.

Dalton opened the curtains so we could enjoy the view of the harbor through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

As I stood there admiring the twinkling lights and the shimmering water beyond the city, he stepped in close behind me. He took both of my arms and placed my palms against the glass. “Don’t you dare move,” he growled near my ear.

Standing behind me, he pressed his hot body against my back while he lifted my hair and kissed the back of my neck. My palms squeaked against the glass, and it took effort for me to push them back into place and hold still as his hands explored my front and unzipped my jacket.

My heart reacted, speeding up and rushing energy flow everywhere, especially between my legs. My pu**y was thrumming with pressure as he pressed his body against my bu**ocks while unfastening the button of my jeans. He slid my jeans down and helped me kick them off.

He bit my earlobe, his breath hot on my neck. “I’m going to pull your hands off the window for a minute to get your shirt off, but don’t turn around.”

I murmured in agreement, and he gently removed my layers, stopping at my bra. “Such a pretty bra,” he said softly as he kissed the strap on my shoulder. “Would you prefer to wear your pretty bra while I f**k you in front of the whole city?”

“Yes,” I said, fully aware of what I was agreeing to.

“I’ve had some things delivered to the room,” he said.

“Like what?”

He ran his finger from the nape of my neck down to the top of my panties, lighting up my whole spine with his touch. “You’ll see. Don’t turn around.”

The suspense was killing me. Standing in front of an enormous window in my underwear was killing me. Was the window even tinted for privacy? The room behind me wasn’t bright, but had a warm glow from a few lamps. Oh, hell. I didn’t care. The cars on the street below looked like toys, anyway.

Dalton left me for a moment, and returned with a large shoebox. Still standing with my hands on the glass, I peeked under my armpit at him as he knelt and took a pair of insanely-stacked platform heels out of the box. In a flash, I remembered standing on the books in my bedroom. Dalton was taller than me, as most guys were, so we needed adjustments for certain positions.

He slipped one crazy platform-heeled shoe onto one foot, and then the other. They fit perfectly.

He stayed kneeling by my heels, shirtless now, but still wearing his jeans. He kissed the backs of my calves while complimenting the curvy new shape they took on thanks to the heels. My alignment was different, with my h*ps tilted and my back more curved, my round bu**ocks thrust up and beckoning.

I moaned as his lips rained down on the backs of my calves, then behind my knees, then up my thighs. I’d waited so long for him to kiss me, which only made it better. Had I ever been kissed so thoroughly? I couldn’t remember, couldn’t think… could scarcely breathe.

My palms squeaked on the glass, reminding me to push them back up.

Dalton and I hadn’t been together since that night in my bedroom, before the LA trip and all those fights.

I’d been so scared we’d never touch each other again, and scared we would. I glanced over at the door to the room. How fast could I run in these crazy shoes? Not fast at all! Maybe that was why he chose them.

With one smooth movement, he reached up and yanked my panties down and off. With the next movement, his finger was between my swollen lips, gliding against my slick skin and probing that hot, swollen spot that made me whimper.

He stayed kneeling, kissing my lower back and the sides of my h*ps and legs, his hand clutching at me rhythmically, fingers delving inside.

He continued doing this until I was about to burst, then eased off. After a gentle bite on my lower back, he said, “You’re the most beautiful sight in all of San Francisco.”

“You make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.”

He got to his feet, and a second later, his jeans hit the ground.

“You’re about to get very lucky,” he breathed, his voice husky and sexy.

“Break me.” I took a small step sideways with one foot and leaned forward, my hands inching up on the glass and my forehead touching the cool surface. I was burning up, my skin hot and wet all over.

A wrapper crinkled.

“Say it again,” he murmured.

I licked my lips and arched my back some more. “Break me, Dalton Deangelo. Shake me. Take me. Break me.”

His c**k slid between my legs, then smoothly against my pu**y, lengthwise. He moved in close, the front of him pressing against my back as I straightened up my torso for more contact.

He slid back and forth, gliding between my folds, the head nudging my cl*t as it appeared and disappeared between my legs. I looked down at his bare feet, on the floor between mine. His toes flexed up and down as he adjusted his position. He kept teasing me with his cock, slowing and pressing against my opening, nudging in briefly before slipping away and gliding past.

“Break me,” I said.

He grabbed my br**sts through my bra and cupped them firmly. Still he teased my pu**y, his long, thick c**k sliding forward and back lengthwise, the condom fully lubricated and slippery by now.

“Fuck me,” I said.

His breath caught in his throat. He pulled back and slipped in with one firm thrust.

I cried out so loud, it was practically a scream.

His hands were everywhere, and he plunged in and out of me in desperation. He slipped one hand down my front, where he spread me apart and rubbed my cl*t in rhythm as he pounded me from behind. My hands were slipping all over the glass, and the movement pushed me forward, until my br**sts were also mashing against the glass. I could barely catch my breath, let alone find something to hold onto.