HolidayHangover Read Online Free PDF

it,” I begged, thrashing and flailing to be
one with my vibrator.
    He eased the tip into my passage and rolled my clit beneath
his fingertips.
    “Come for me again,” he said.
    “I’m working on it.” I grasped the headboard for stability
and fucked the vibrator, taking the length deep inside me.
    Working with me, Raul pushed in and pulled out in sync with
the rolling motion of my body. I hugged and caressed the vibrator with the
walls of my pussy. He leaned in and swirled his tongue over my clit. He sucked
my nub between his lips and I broke into a million pieces of shattered rapture.
Pleasure erupted, exploding and reloading to burst again and again.
    “Hang on, Jane.”
    He quickly tossed the vibrator aside, planted his hands on
the mattress on either side of my head and filled my shuddering emptiness with
his cock.
    He mumbled something under his breath in lovely Spanish. His
eyes closed. He was probably enjoying my pussy constricting around his length
almost as much as I enjoyed the pleasant spasms. Opening his eyes, staring into
my very soul, he pumped me hard. I wrapped my legs around him and slid against
him, dragging out every last drop of ecstasy.
    “Raul!” I called, tugging at the cuffs binding me.
    “Jane.” He ground out my name like a growl.
    I couldn’t tell where one climax ended and another began. Or
was it one long continuous orgasm started by the vibrator, ending with his
cock? Clinging to him, I couldn’t get close enough. He drove deep inside and
held firm. I rattled off a string of meaningless, garbled vowels, ending my rant
with, “Hell yes.”
    His ended with, “Fuck yes.” Then he sort of collapsed on top
of me.
     
    I borrow Raul’s toothbrush before following the smell of
bacon to the kitchen, where he meets me with a crooked grin and breakfast. I sit
when he points at a stool and wish I had one of those donut pillows to rest my
weary bottom, which his skimpy robe barely covers.
    “Good morning, Jane.”
    Something in the way he looks at me mixes with my
humiliation over the previous night, dissipating my shame. Acceptance.
Attraction. A little heat.
    “Morning, Raul.” Good or bad is a matter of opinion. I
shuffle through the photos from last night littering his breakfast island and
have to smile at our fun and games. Who were those people? The woman in
particular, laughing and cavorting like a horny adolescent.
    He sets a plate in front of me. “What a night, right?”
    “About that,” I begin. “What happened?”
    “Please don’t tell me you don’t remember.” His brows draw
together. “Sex. Lots and lots of amazing sex happened.”
    I’d figured that much, actually remembering most of it.
Everything I have—arms, legs, butt—is sore from acrobatic sex. Every move I
make reminds me of our lovemaking.
    I point at the telltale scratch marks branding his skin. “I…I
don’t remember that.”
    He glances at the marks on his arms. “We woke at about two
in the morning, had a few more shots of tequila and you said you wanted to
touch me this time when we fucked— I mean made love.” Raul shrugs. “So—”
    “Being a good host, you accommodated me.” I take a bite of
waffle.
    Pointing his fork at me, he says, “Exactly.”
    “And my ass?” I ask, a little afraid of his answer.
    His eyes slide closed as if he were savoring a gourmet meal. “Bonita.”
    I appreciate the compliment but need to get at the truth
almost as much as I fear knowing the events of the previous night. “My ass is
sore.” In an unfamiliar way.
    “Oh. That.” He glances away. “You started it.”
    “Me?” I never start things.
    “You practically begged me, Jane.” He hunches over his
plate, avoiding my eyes. “What was I supposed to do?”
    “What?” Begging a man to give it to me up the ass does not
sound like the Jane I know. “I begged you?”
    Raul shrugs. “You were a little tipsy last night.”
    “So you thought it would be a good idea to pour me another
tequila?”