Page 5 of Fixed (Spicy Bites #2)

SETH

The ride back to the Silver Spoon Inn is short, but I drag it out, giving myself time to get my shit under control. I take the long route, slipping through silent back streets where the only eyes on us are sagging porch lights and a brave raccoon rifling through someone’s garbage.

Frankie is sitting next to me, legs crossed, and body turned just enough that I can see the barest hint of thigh when the Mustang hits a bump.

She’s so fucking close I can smell her delicate fragrance, and my cock has been hard enough to drive nails since the moment I saw her standing in the Silver Spoon Inn.

She glances at me as I make the final turn. “You gonna walk me to my door?”

I shoot her a look as my cock orders me to walk her to the goddamn door. “Of course.”

She laughs, and the sound rolls through my head on repeat. I punch the Mustang’s parking brake and cut the engine. I barely remember grabbing her hand, but suddenly we’re moving past the lobby and into the elevator.

The hotel is stone quiet except for the click of her heels and the soft thud of my boots. Frankie’s hand is still in mine. She doesn’t let go, not even when we pass a couple of tipsy wedding guests, not even when I slow at the end of the corridor to read the room numbers.

Her suite is at the very end. Figures. The walk is a slow burn, every step another chance to reach for her, but I hold off. Just barely. The hall is lit with wall sconces that paint us in long, warm shadows. At her door, she pauses, keycard in hand, and turns toward me. Waiting.

I pin her there, one hand braced on the door above her head. She looks up at me, lips parted, eyes glassy from the wine. “Is this your move?” she asks, but her voice is all invitation and zero fight.

“I don’t have moves,” I say, but my thumb is already grazing her jaw, angling her face up to mine. “Just instincts.”

She shivers. Just once, a pulse in her throat. “Show me.”

I do. I kiss her, deep and shameless, pushing her back so the door frame holds us steady.

She melts against me, her hands on my chest, clutching the fabric of my shirt with enough force to anchor herself.

I taste her—wine, rosemary, and something that’s all Frankie—and it goes straight to my head.

I kiss her like I’m trying to devour her whole.

I want to take my time, but I can’t. She makes a hungry, impatient sound in the back of her throat, and my cock hardens painfully. My hands run down her waist, finding the soft curve of her hip. I palm her there, greedy, and she rocks against me like she’s with me all the way.

I pull back, just enough to catch my breath. Her lips are swollen and flushed, eyes bright. “Are you sure about this?” I ask, my voice rough as gravel.

She blinks up at me, like the question is a punchline. “I’ve never been surer.”

A low groan escapes my lips as I capture her mouth in another searing kiss, our bodies pressed tightly against each other. The hunger between us ignites, burning brighter with each passing second.

Breaking away for a moment, I whisper against her lips, “Tell me what you want.”

She looks up at me with a hunger that matches my own, her eyes dark like uncut emeralds and filled with longing. “I want you,” she breathes out.

I’m shaking. I never fucking shake. I stare at her for a full second, making damn sure she’s not going to change her mind. She stares right back, not a hint of hesitation. Just hunger.

I take the key card from her, sliding it into the lock so slowly it’s almost torture. The green light clicks, and I push the door open, but I don’t move. Not yet.

“One more chance,” I say, my forehead pressed to hers. “If I walk in, I’m staying. All fucking night.”

She looks up at me, blue eyes steady. “I’m tired of playing it safe.”

It’s all I need. I shove the door wide and drag her inside, the door slamming shut behind us so hard it rattles the art on the wall.

This is what it feels like to win the goddamn lottery.

The room is bigger than I expected—soft light, king bed turned down with surgical precision, a little fruit plate on the table. Frankie moves halfway across the carpet before I even get the door locked. She quickly works at the little buttons running down the front of her light blue dress.

I watch her, hungry, memorizing the way she moves. The way her hips roll when she steps out of the last shoe. The way her hair falls when she bends over, exposing the line of her neck, begging to be kissed or bitten or both.

I toss my wallet and keys onto the mahogany dresser with a clatter, strip off my stainless-steel watch that feels suddenly too heavy, and close the blackout curtains with one hard yank that sends dust motes dancing in a sliver of streetlight.

The world shrinks to just us, the faint mechanical hum of the AC rattling through the vents, the slow thunderous tick of my pulse getting louder and meaner with each breath.

Frankie faces me, wearing just a frilly white lace bra with tiny pink bows at each strap and matching high-cut panties that hug the curve of her hips.

She braces her hands behind her on the edge of the bed, fingers pressing into the crisp white duvet.

My eyes meet hers—aqua irises nearly swallowed by dilated pupils—and she raises one perfectly arched eyebrow, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, like she's daring me to touch her.

So, I do. I cross the room and set my palms on her thighs, pushing them open just enough to step between.

She’s warm and tense, her skin already prickling under my hands.

I trace a finger around her collarbone, slow as hell, not because I’m patient but because I want to see her fall apart a piece at a time.

The air between us is electric, charged with a heat that could melt steel.

She’s sitting back, her lips parted just enough to tease, her chest rising and falling softly, like she’s already imagining what’s coming next.

The way she looks at me—like I’m her last meal and she’s starving—makes my cock twitch against the fabric of my dress pants.

“You’re way overdressed,” she whispers, her voice low and dripping with intent. Those words alone are enough to make me hard as fuck, but it’s the way her tongue flicks out to wet her lips that seals the deal. She’s daring me, begging me to fucking take her apart.

“Easy fix,” I growl, but I’m not about to let her off that easily.

No, I want to make her squirm first. I close the distance between us, my hand snaking around the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair.

It’s soft, silky, and I grip it hard, pulling her head back just enough to expose the pale column of her throat.

Her breath hitches, and I can feel her pulse racing under my fingertips.

I lean in, my lips brushing against hers, teasing, lingering. “You want me to fix it?” I murmur, my voice rough with need. “Then fucking beg for it.”

Her eyes flash with defiance, but her body betrays her. Her hips press forward, grinding against my thigh, and I can feel the heat of her through the fabric of my pants. She’s soaked already, and the thought of how wet she is makes me let out a low, feral growl.

“Fucking please,” she growls, her voice trembling. “Please, just?—”

I don’t let her finish. My mouth crashes down on hers, hungry and possessive. Her lips part instantly, and I plunge my tongue inside, fucking her mouth with the same intensity I want to fuck her pussy. She moans into me, her hands clawing to pull my shirt free of my pants, desperate to get it off.

I let her tear at it, her nails scraping against my skin as she pulls it up.

One button pops off, flying across the room, but I don’t give a fuck.

She’s panting now, her fingers digging into my lower back as she drags the shirt down my arms. It hangs at my wrists for a heartbeat before I toss it aside, leaving me bare-chested.

Her hands roam over my chest, her palms gliding over the hard planes of muscle, her nails leaving little red trails in their wake. She’s smiling against my mouth, smug and satisfied, like she’s already won some fucking game.

“Think you’re so clever, don’t you?” I mutter against her lips and pull her up to stand against me. I grab her by the hips and back her up, pressing her back against the wall. Her breath comes in quick, shallow gasps, and her eyes are wide, wild with anticipation.

I lean in, my mouth trailing down her neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. She arches into me, her hands clutching at my shoulders, urging me on. “God, yes,” she whimpers, her voice breaking as my teeth sink into the curve of her shoulder.

I slide my hand up her thigh, feeling goosebumps break out on her skin under my fingers. I slide a finger along the edge of her panties, and she gasps, her hips bucking against my hand.

“God, you’re wet,” I growl, my lips brushing against her ear.

“Wet for you,” she whimpers and runs her foot up the back of my leg.

“You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you? Thinking about my cock inside you, stretching you out, fucking you until you scream?”

She nods frantically, her hands clutching at my back, urging me closer. I yank her panties to the side, not bothering to take them off, and slide my fingers through her slick folds. She’s drenched, and I groan at the feel of her silky walls closing around my finger.

“Goddamn, you’re tight,” I mutter, sliding two fingers inside her. Her walls grip me like a vice, hot and wet and fucking perfect. I curl my fingers, pressing against that spot inside her that makes her eyes roll back in her head.

Her loud, unrestrained moan fills the room, fueling my hunger. I press my thumb against her clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles as I pump my fingers in and out of her wet core. Her hips jerk with every thrust, her body writhing against me as she gets closer and closer to the edge.

“Come for me,” I demand, my voice rough and commanding. “Let me feel you come on my fingers.”

She doesn’t need any more encouragement. Her whole body tenses as her pussy clamps down on my fingers. Her scream echoes around the room while the orgasm blasts through her curvy body. I keep my fingers inside her, dragging out her climax until she’s a trembling, breathless mess in my arms.

But I’m not done with her. Not even close.

I pull my fingers out slowly, watching as she shudders at the sensation. Then I bring them to my mouth to lick them clean and savor the taste that’s uniquely her. Her eyes widen, her lips parting as she watches me, and I can tell she’s already craving more.

“Your turn,” she whispers, her voice trembling but determined. She drops to her knees in front of me, her hands fumbling with the buckle of my belt. Her fingers are shaking, but she doesn’t stop, determined to get what she wants.

The belt clatters to the floor, followed by my jeans and boxers, and then her mouth is wrapped tight around my cock, hot and wet and fucking perfect.

She takes me deep on the first pass. Her lips stretch around my cock as she sucks me down.

She swirls her tongue around the head, teasing me, driving me fucking wild.

I grip her hair, guiding her movements, fucking her mouth with the same rhythm I’ll soon be fucking her pussy. She moans around me, her eyes rolling up to meet mine, and I can feel myself getting closer, the pressure building, threatening to explode.

But not yet. I pull out of her mouth with a wet pop and see my cock glistening with her spit. She whimpers at the loss, her lips swollen and red, her eyes pleading with me to take her.

And I will. But not like this.

I grab her by the hips and flip her around, pressing her face-first against the wall. Her ass is perfect, round and firm, and I give it a sharp slap just to watch it jiggle. She gasps, her hands bracing against the wall, her pussy already dripping in anticipation.

I line myself up, the head of my cock pressing against her entrance, and I pause, just to make her squirm. “You ready for me?” I growl, my voice thick with lust.

“Yes,” she whimpers, her hips pushing back, trying to take me in. “Please, fuck me.”

I don’t need to be asked twice. I thrust into her in one smooth motion, burying myself to the hilt.

Goddamn. My eyes roll back in my head as I grit my teeth to keep from coming.

She’s so fucking tight. Her walls clench hard around me, and I have to breathe through the urge to bathe her pussy with my cum.

“Fuck,” I mutter, my hands gripping her hips as I start to move. I fuck her hard and deep, her ass slapping against my thighs with every thrust. She’s moaning, her hands clawing at the wall, her body trembling with need.

“Harder,” she gasps, her voice breaking. “Please, harder.”

I oblige, fucking her with everything I’ve got. Her pussy is so fucking wet, so tight, and I can feel myself getting closer, the pleasure coiling in my gut.

Her moans are muffled, her face pressed against the wall, but I can feel her pussy clenching around me, rippling with another orgasm. I fuck her through it, driving her higher and higher until she’s screaming my name, her whole body shaking with pleasure.

And then I’m there, my cock throbbing, my balls tightening as I can’t hold back any longer. I slam into her one last time, burying myself deep as I come, my cum filling her up, hopefully planting my baby deep in her womb.

We collapse against the wall, both of us panting, trembling, completely spent. Her back is pressed against my chest, her skin slick with sweat, and I can feel her heartbeat racing against mine.

“Damn,” she whispers, her voice hoarse.

“Yeah,” I mutter, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. “Fucking damn.”