Satisfaction Guaranteed: A Standalone Romance (Always Satisfied Book 1) Read online

  “You say these things . . .”

  I grin. “And?”

  “And you make it impossible to walk away.” She grabs my tie and tugs my face inches from hers. “But what do you think my voice says?”

  I want her to say it. The permission must come from her, and I’m dying for it. “You tell me.”

  She brings her mouth to my ear and whispers, hot and sexy, “It says take me to Tahiti. Fuck me hard. Fuck me good. Fuck me senseless.”

  That’s the only voice I’m listening to tonight.

  20

  Sloane Elizabeth’s Voice Memo to Self

  &*^%$#%^&

  Holy shit.

  Hot damn.

  Shake it off. Shake off the nerves. You’re going to be fine. This is Malone. This is the man you want. He’s out there, getting a hotel room.

  And OH MY GOD.

  You’re about to get naked.

  With him.

  The man you’ve been dying for.

  The object of all your fantasies.

  The main attraction, the music you and the silver dolphin trip the light fantastic to.

  Did you feel what he was packing?

  Of course you did, you dirty bird. You felt it, and you wanted it, and you’re about to get it.

  Breathe.

  Breathe more.

  It’s going to be amazing. It’s going to turn your world upside down. You’re going to experience a brand-new meaning of pleasure.

  Just get the hell out of here and go climb that man now.

  Good thing you brought condoms. You’re seriously such a planner. It’s killing you.

  Oh, shut up. Planning is good.

  Go plan on having an orgasm or two.

  21

  There’s just something about hotels after midnight.

  Plus, that Otis dude? The guy who invented elevators? I’d like to award him the Pride of the Brotherhood medal right the fuck now.

  Because hotel elevators were made for foreplay.

  With the mirrors, sleek chrome, and the rattle and hum, it’s like a prelude to the main attraction.

  As soon as the doors whisk shut—hell, as they’re whisking shut—I grab Sloane. I spin her around, press her up against the mirrored wall, and crush her mouth to mine. She grabs at me, her hands in my hair, her nails against my scalp. We’re all heat and urgency, like we both need our fix.

  Lust ricochets through my veins as I hike up her leg, hooking it around my hip, grinding against her.

  She moans my name and arches her back, her curves fitting perfectly against me.

  We reach our floor, panting. We spill out of the elevator and into the hall, and I drape an arm around her shoulder, bringing her close. I can’t stop touching her. My lips want to be in contact with her skin, so I kiss her cheek as we reach the room. I slide the key card against the door and push it open.

  Once we’re inside, she’s a tiger. Pouncing at me. Pushing me against the closed door, clawing at my shirt, ripping at my tie. It’s like she’s afraid she’s going to miss something if she slows down.

  I’m not looking for a long, lingering seven-course meal, but I’d like our first time to last more than five minutes, and she’s operating at a speed-demon pace.

  I grab her wrists. “Hey. Let me look at you.”

  She draws a deep breath, almost as if she’s nervous. “Okay.”

  I arch a brow. “Are you? Okay?”

  She nods several times.

  “You’re not okay.”

  She presses her palms to my chest. “I’m great. I swear. I want this.”

  “Just wanted to make sure.” I dip my face to her neck, pressing a soft kiss to her sweet-smelling skin. She trembles, seeming to come down a notch from predator-on-the-Serengeti level. “You taste so good.” I brush my lips along her neck, up to her ear, nibbling.

  She murmurs as I go, and that’s better. This pace is better.

  I’m all for a quick screw now and then, but not now. I’ve waited far too long for this moment to rush it. I intend to enjoy every single second.

  My hands reach around her back, splaying across her bare skin. “By the way, you can always wear dresses like this. Just in case you were wondering.”

  “Glad to know it has your fashion seal of approval.”

  “But I’m also damn curious how it looks . . . off.”

  She nibbles on her lip. “Take it off, Malone.”

  I slide the straps down, and she lets them fall to her waist. Just like that, she’s revealed, and my mouth goes dry. Her breasts are beautiful teardrops, with dusky rose nipples. I would like to spend the night with my face buried between them.

  I cup them both, and she stretches against me, murmuring, sighing.

  Running my thumbs over her nipples, I feel them harden as I explore her. Her breath comes faster, staggered.

  “Ohhhhh.”

  That. Sound.

  It’s a straight shot of lust. It turns my dick to granite, and it was already imitating rock. “You’re spectacular. Do you have any idea how hard it’s been the last week? How much I’ve wanted you?”

  There’s something freeing about telling the woman you want how deeply you crave her. That’s never been the holdup, and because it’s not, I’m going to embrace the chance to tell her.

  She shoots out a hand, grabs my tie. “I’m betting it’s as much as I want you.”

  I groan, loving her need, craving her want. I slide her dress over her hips as she kicks off her heels. She’s down to nothing but a lacy black G-string, and she’s everything I’ve dreamed she’d be.

  She’s strong and toned, but with a softness to her curves too, a femininity that’s siren-like. Her smooth, pale skin is like a beacon to me, and she smells divine. That vanilla smell is her scent, her signature, and it drives me wild.

  “As much as I’d love to have up-against-the-wall sex, right now I want you spread out on a bed, woman,” I say, then in one quick move, I hoist her up over my shoulder.

  She squeals, pounding her fists playfully against my back. “Malone!”

  “Watch out, or I’ll tickle you.” I carry her to the bed as she laughs.

  I set her down on the mattress and drink in the luscious sight. “Damn. You nearly naked on a hotel bed. Is this heaven?”

  She rests on her elbows, watching me stare at her. “You like what you see?”

  I lean over her, run a hand up her bare leg. “I love what I see. Did you think I wouldn’t?”

  She shakes her head. “No. I just want you to.”

  There are those nerves again. I don’t want her to feel an ounce of them.

  I wrap a hand around the back of her head and haul her in for a kiss. “I want you. I want you all to myself. I want you all night.”

  A small smile seems to tug at her lips. She likes my answer. “Malone.” She says my name like it’s a cherry rolling around on her tongue. “I’d really like you to get naked.”

  Well.

  The woman has spoken. The jacket comes off, and we’re a well-oiled machine, making quick work of my clothes until I’m down to my boxers, and her eyes go wide.

  They bug out.

  “Nice dick,” she says in a reverent whisper.

  Mine stands up taller. Well, dicks do like to be admired.

  I shed my boxer briefs, give my hard cock a stroke, and then crawl over her. “Now, what are we going to do about this lovely little piece of lace?” I slide my hand between her legs, cupping her, feeling the slick outline of her wet panties. “Hmm. Let’s see if I can get it off you.”

  I kiss my way down her belly, and she arches against my mouth, looping her hands in my hair as I go. “God, you smell amazing.”

  Her hips shoot up, and my God, this woman is a live wire. One kiss and she’s moaning. One touch and she’s writhing.

  I kiss the top of her panties, then slide them off. My entire body crackles with obscene appreciation. Her pussy is beautiful. Perfect, pink, glistening.

  I lick my lips and thank
my lucky stars. Then I flinch in surprise as she points at the door. “You’re kicking me out?”

  “No. Please. I’m not stupid. I dropped my purse when we walked in. There’s a condom in it.”

  “I have one too, but I like that you brought one.”

  She winks. “More than one.”

  I head for the entryway, grab her purse, and bring it to her. Dipping her hand in, she finds the protection and thrusts a condom at me.

  “Fine, fine. You want me just for my dick. I get it.”

  “Do you blame me? It’s a very nice dick.”

  “Nice? It’s nice?”

  She sits up taller, wraps her hand around my cock, and squeezes. I shudder as a wave of pleasure rolls over me. The feel of her hand is tremendous. As she runs her palm up and down, I let my eyes float closed, savoring the pure heat of this moment. The fire that crackles in my veins. The desire that floods my body. The woman I lust after to inordinate degrees is touching my most favorite body part, and I’m about to fuck her.

  I must have been very good in a past life.

  And in this life, I need to get inside her and drive her wild.

  I open the condom wrapper and roll it on. She watches me the whole time, her brown eyes blazing. After I pinch the top, I settle between her legs and rub the head of my cock against her slickness.

  Her mouth parts in a delicious O, and she moans.

  I push inside, and the second I feel her warmth hugging my cock, the pleasure shoots to another level. Sparks rain over my skin, and I feel electric, white-hot as I fill her.

  She wraps her legs around my back, hooking her ankles together.

  “This is worth waiting for,” I murmur, as I begin to move. “You’re worth waiting for.”

  “So worth it,” she pants.

  Swiveling my hips, I search for the ideal rhythm for her. She loops her hands tighter around my neck, bringing my mouth close to hers.

  That works for me. That works just fine, and I lower my chest closer, bracing myself on my palms as I thrust. We set a pace, and it’s fantastic. We’re in sync, rocking and grinding, moaning and groaning. Hands squeezing, fingers tightening.

  “What do you like best, sweetheart? What gets you there?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “This.” It’s all she says. Just “This,” as she closes her eyes and sighs, a sexy, lingering sound that sends shivers down my spine.

  I follow her lead, fucking her just like this, each thrust punctuated by her moans, and soon she’s rocking faster up against me, her voice growing louder.

  “Can you . . .?”

  “You want me to touch your sweet clit while I do this?” I supply, taking an educated guess.

  She smiles. “Yes.”

  “Let’s get you on top, then. How does that sound?”

  She shakes her head. “Can you fuck me from behind?”

  I scoff. “Can I? Can I fuck you from behind? I’d like nothing better.”

  We maneuver our way to a new position, one that’s carnal and dirty as she gets on all fours, lowering her back. With my palm spread over her ass, I slide back inside.

  “I feel it,” she whispers. “So much deeper.”

  “So much,” I echo as my bones shake, rattling with lust and need. I pump into her, enjoying the view of her hair spilling down her back, her ass in the air.

  I run a hand along her back. “Now this is a gorgeous view.”

  “You came to Tahiti and took in the sights.” She sighs contentedly as she pushes back against me.

  Bringing both hands to her hips, I yank her closer, driving deeper, then I band my arm around her waist, gliding my thumb between her legs.

  She cries out when I first touch her clit, and that’s my cue to keep going. I rub the delicious rise of her as she rocks on my dick, thrusting onto my cock as much as she can.

  I keep up the pace that she likes—fast, hard, but never forgetting about that glorious nub between her legs, making sure she’s loving everything as I stroke circles on her clit.

  With each stroke, she moans.

  With each thrust, she cries out.

  And then she cries louder. “I’m close, so close.”

  My job is simple—don’t fuck up.

  I’m a master of self-control, so I stave off my own orgasm, gritting my teeth and focusing on hers, damn near willing it. I rub and stroke and fuck, and all I can think is her orgasm is going to be epic.

  Because her moans are. Her cries are. Her sounds are the stuff of legend. Her noises are unlocking my pleasure, and her own seems to be hurtling through her. “Oh God, I’m coming.”

  Her cry starts loud, then shoots even louder. She’s all ohhh God and yes, yes, yes, and it’s fantastic how vocal she is.

  Really, it is.

  Except my suspicions are confirmed when she lets out a long, over-the-top, glorious sigh as she slumps down under me, like she’s sated and blissed out.

  She just faked an orgasm.

  22

  That’s a first.

  At least, I think so.

  For a hot second, I travel through time. As I head to the restroom to toss the condom, I revisit ghosts of my sex life past.

  Kelly from college, with the trumpet-like orgasmic cries.

  Lilah, who lived in Chelsea and writhed like she was a belly dancer when she came.

  Sonya, whose O face was the poster child for O faces.

  They were all epic comers.

  Weren’t they?

  Wait.

  Have I been Sally’d in the diner by them all? Have all men everywhere been Sally’d every time?

  But as I stare at my reflection, I shake my head. Nah. Because here’s the thing with Sloane.

  I knew instantly.

  I wasn’t fooled.

  Sloane faked it, but she didn’t fake me out.

  She went too far. She overacted, oversold her climax, and I wasn’t buying it. That’s not something anyone else I’ve been with has ever done.

  I shove away thoughts of exes and focus solely on Sloane’s non–Academy Award performance.

  But why did she try to pull off the act?

  She didn’t like it?

  No way.

  Maybe I am too cocky, but I don’t buy that. We were both into it, every step of the way. From the bar, to the elevator, to the room, to the bed.

  When we switched positions too.

  And besides, I felt her, I touched her. She was into it. She’s one of the most responsive women I’ve ever encountered.

  Yet, she didn’t fly over the edge, and she definitely wanted to.

  I turn on the tap, splash some water on my face, and turn it off. I grab a towel and dry off. I have a plan.

  This is a problem, and I’m going to treat it like I would a poodle who’s not “acting like himself.”

  I can’t exactly ask the patient what’s wrong. But I can deduce this—since Sloane deliberately faked it, she must have a reason.

  I need to get to the bottom of that.

  And I know how to do it.

  I’ll take a lesson from her playbook.

  I’ll fake it too.

  I’ll pretend I believe she came like a world-class orgasm-er.

  I return to the bed, ready to conduct my recon.

  She’s stretched out on her side, her head propped in her hand, her blonde hair spilling over her fingers and falling down on the bed. “Hey,” she says, her voice a little sleepy-sexy. Is that a ruse too, the post-sex gravel in her tone?

  “Hey, beautiful.” I lie next to her, and the second I touch the mattress, her hands are on me, traveling up my chest and down over my hip.

  She’s a frisky one.

  I note that in my mental spy journal.

  Spy Log Detail One: eager beaver.

  “That was . . .” she begins, trailing off, and I’m half-tempted to fill in the sentence with snark. That was quite a performance! Will there be another show tonight? But that approach won’t glean any intel. Going along with it will.


  “Amazing,” I supply.

  Her hand spreads across my chest. “Yes, totally amazing.”

  “Like you’d hoped it would be?” I arch a questioning brow.

  She smiles, a dopey, happy grin. “Yes, Exactly.”

  Spy Log Detail Two: she definitely wants me to believe that O was real.

  I loop my arm around her, tugging her close. “Damn, woman. I have dreamed about you for years. To finally have you was incredible.” I press my lips to her cheek, her eyelid, her nose. Then I kiss her mouth, in a soft, lingering way that promises deeper kisses to come.

  “It was, Malone. It was totally incredible.” She adopts a cheeky expression, raising her eyebrows and dancing her fingers across my chest. “Can we go to Tahiti again tonight?”

  Spy Log Detail Three: She wants to screw again. That makes me think she liked the sex. Or at least liked it enough.

  I scoff. “We’re still here. We need to take full advantage of all the amenities.”

  Her fingers travel down my stomach. “So . . . how long do we stay here? All night?”

  I look at her and tuck a finger under her chin, fishing for more clues. “Is that what you want?”

  She rolls her eyes. “No, I want you to kick me out.”

  I gesture to the door. “See you later, woman. I’m going to enjoy this king-size bed all by myself.”

  She swats my elbow, climbs on top of me, and grabs my wrists. “Take that back.”

  Spy Log Detail Four: The woman is playful AF. She’s got to be into me.

  I slide my arms above my head so she falls onto me, her breasts temptingly near my face. I raise my neck, suck on one delicious nipple.

  She lets out a sexy sigh.

  Spy Log Detail Five: she seems turned on again.

  She starts rocking against me as I lavish attention on her. When she pulls away, she slides down my body, straddling my growing length, rubbing against it, letting me know she’s still wet.

  Spy Log Detail Six: She wants to screw so she can get the O she missed. Grab a condom and finish the job, dick.

  Spy Log Detail Seven: Idiot. You still don’t know why she faked it. Cool your jets.

  I resume my routine, untangling myself from her hands and flipping her to her back. “You want to spend the night here? Get this out of our system so we can go back to work on Monday like nothing happened?”