It clanked onto the marble floor. Outside, through the plate glass window wall on the opposite side of the room, the starsâthose unidentified constellationsâsparkled in the black nighttime sky. Blocks away, down the long slope of King Street, which Darcie couldnât see from here, at Darling Harbour people danced and drank. It didnât matter. With his shirt open, her blouse undone, he pressed his chest to her breasts and Darcie whimpered at the low-down ache in her abdomen. Theyâd never reach the bed.
âFeel good?â He dragged down his zipper. She heard a foil packet tear before he sheathed himself. âIâll make it better. I promise.â
âDonât let me down.â
With her request, he whisked her panties off so fast Darcie never felt them fall. He cupped her bottom in both hands. That aching spot down low needed his attention so badly she couldnât speakâcomedy was the last thing on her mind nowâand his hardness pushed at the ready opening of her body. He raised his head.
âYouâre clean, right?â
She gasped. âIâm clean.â
âMe, too. So let meâ¦show youâ¦my billabong, â he whispered hotly.
Then he slid inside. Deep. Hard. Full. Heaven. Her breath rushed out.
âOhhh.â
âUnhhh.â
The stars twinkled. The moon shone. The cold beige marble floor made her toes curlâor was that him? His arousal felt velvety hot. The mirror felt slick and cool against her bare bottom. If he opened his eyes, would he see her big behind squashed flatter than his hat to the glass? When his heat engulfed her, Darcie no longer cared about her exposed rear end, about hotel rooms with men who didnât love her.
His tempo increased. He stroked her, in, out, in, out until they both seemed to lose their minds from the very motion, like the lilting strains of the song she only half remembered.
âYou little swagâ¦woman⦠â he gasped.
âYouâ¦big tuckerâ¦man⦠â
She didnât know how long they lasted. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Not long enough. At some point while the moon still gleamed and the stars still shone and Darcie still wore the Akubra, the climax caught her, swift and shattering.
With one last hard thrust, on a groan he came, too.
When he stopped shuddering and she finally stopped shaking, her head fell back against the mirrored closet. She didnât mind if he saw her rear now, plastered to the glass, reflected in all its formless, naked glory. When his head dropped to the juncture of her neck, his mouth hot and open on her damp skin, Darcie peeled herself away from the mirror. And the Akubra hat thumped onto the marble floor. She couldnât tell which of them was breathing in the most ragged rhythm. Or a complete lack of one.
Her heart beat like fury. His thicker, stronger pulse thudded against her breast.
He whispered a low, erotic word, and Darcie cried out, ready to begin all over again what they had just finishedâ¦but, like him, not quite finished. When he kissedher, long and sweet and silky, she hoped this one night would never end.
ââWaltzing Matilda,ââ Darcie breathed into his mouth like a prayer.
Â
âWant another beer?â Like a pagan god, hours later he stood naked at the minibar, a perfect sight in the open fridge door that shafted light over his loins, upward along his taut belly to his muscled chest and shoulders, to the renewed glitter in his dark eyes. Darcie wanted him, again, too.
Swathed in the white cotton duvet, she lay on the king-size bed amid big goose down pillows and grinned at him. Even though she didnât like beer, she said yes.
âAnd after thatâ¦?â she added, hoping for more.
âWeâll rehydrate, then negotiate.â
Like Scarlett OâHara the morning after Rhett, she couldnât seem to stop smiling.
Iâll make it better. âI wonât give you a
âFeel good?â He dragged down his zipper. She heard a foil packet tear before he sheathed himself. âIâll make it better. I promise.â
âDonât let me down.â
With her request, he whisked her panties off so fast Darcie never felt them fall. He cupped her bottom in both hands. That aching spot down low needed his attention so badly she couldnât speakâcomedy was the last thing on her mind nowâand his hardness pushed at the ready opening of her body. He raised his head.
âYouâre clean, right?â
She gasped. âIâm clean.â
âMe, too. So let meâ¦show youâ¦my billabong, â he whispered hotly.
Then he slid inside. Deep. Hard. Full. Heaven. Her breath rushed out.
âOhhh.â
âUnhhh.â
The stars twinkled. The moon shone. The cold beige marble floor made her toes curlâor was that him? His arousal felt velvety hot. The mirror felt slick and cool against her bare bottom. If he opened his eyes, would he see her big behind squashed flatter than his hat to the glass? When his heat engulfed her, Darcie no longer cared about her exposed rear end, about hotel rooms with men who didnât love her.
His tempo increased. He stroked her, in, out, in, out until they both seemed to lose their minds from the very motion, like the lilting strains of the song she only half remembered.
âYou little swagâ¦woman⦠â he gasped.
âYouâ¦big tuckerâ¦man⦠â
She didnât know how long they lasted. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Not long enough. At some point while the moon still gleamed and the stars still shone and Darcie still wore the Akubra, the climax caught her, swift and shattering.
With one last hard thrust, on a groan he came, too.
When he stopped shuddering and she finally stopped shaking, her head fell back against the mirrored closet. She didnât mind if he saw her rear now, plastered to the glass, reflected in all its formless, naked glory. When his head dropped to the juncture of her neck, his mouth hot and open on her damp skin, Darcie peeled herself away from the mirror. And the Akubra hat thumped onto the marble floor. She couldnât tell which of them was breathing in the most ragged rhythm. Or a complete lack of one.
Her heart beat like fury. His thicker, stronger pulse thudded against her breast.
He whispered a low, erotic word, and Darcie cried out, ready to begin all over again what they had just finishedâ¦but, like him, not quite finished. When he kissedher, long and sweet and silky, she hoped this one night would never end.
ââWaltzing Matilda,ââ Darcie breathed into his mouth like a prayer.
Â
âWant another beer?â Like a pagan god, hours later he stood naked at the minibar, a perfect sight in the open fridge door that shafted light over his loins, upward along his taut belly to his muscled chest and shoulders, to the renewed glitter in his dark eyes. Darcie wanted him, again, too.
Swathed in the white cotton duvet, she lay on the king-size bed amid big goose down pillows and grinned at him. Even though she didnât like beer, she said yes.
âAnd after thatâ¦?â she added, hoping for more.
âWeâll rehydrate, then negotiate.â
Like Scarlett OâHara the morning after Rhett, she couldnât seem to stop smiling.
Iâll make it better. âI wonât give you a
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