“Ben,” she whispered, her back arching, her pert tits jutting out from her chest.
He moved his thumb lower, marveling at how wet she was. His cock was rock hard and demanding entry. But he wanted to find out, so had to push her for an answer now, quickly. “Tell me, I want to know.”
“Just because I want a man now, doesn’t mean I need a man all the time.” The way she spoke, so provocatively French and blasé, didn’t tell him enough.
“Go on, there’s more.” He pushed one finger inside her, stroking the sleek, slippery walls of her cunt. When she clenched hard around his finger, his cock jerked up against his belly, his balls riding high. He was mad for it, and he had to clench his teeth to help him stay focused.
She half sat, and slid her hand around his cock as she boldly dared him, flashing her eyes. “What’s the matter? Don’t you want to?”
“Oh yes, I want to all right. But I also want to know all about you.”
She dropped her head back, smiling ruefully. “There was a man. A husband. He couldn’t cope with me, he found a better match.”
For a split second he regretted pushing her, but then he saw how much she wanted to hear his reply, and the uncertainty that flickered in her eyes as she waited for his response. “Not man enough for you, eh? His loss, I say.”
Her body undulated with pleasure. “No. He couldn’t cope with me at all.” She gripped at his forearms, and stared directly into his eyes. “Not like you can, Mr. Ben O’ Neil.”
“You’re a mercenary woman, preying on my ego like that.” And then he was inside her, sliding deep into that heavenly place.
She clutched him in welcome, and he gave himself over to the moment fully, riding her, relishing every pleasured moan that came from her mouth.
When he felt his orgasm building, he worked his knees further under her bottom, and flexed, riding deep into her sweet spot. His cock was jammed right against the neck of her womb and she was clutching rhythmically. His balls were fit to blow, and his spine was burning.
“Oh, oh,” she cried. “Oh, yes!” She cried out in pleasure, her body rippling. The tight, rhythmic clutch of her cunt on his cock was too good.
When he came, he lost sight of the room. He gripped her hips, pressing deep and staying there as long as he could. She stayed with him, rocking her hips, and when they eventually unfolded and rolled apart, she snuggled close against him, kissing him gently while he surfaced.
“That was the best fun, and the perfect way to end a very memorable evening.”
End the evening? He didn’t want to hear that. He put his fingers to her lips.
She growled, but she was smiling.
“I intend to keep you up until morning. Then I have to check your engine.”
“My engine?”
“Your car has a really bad tick over.”
“Oh. Okay.” She shrugged.
“Do you always treat strangers in the night to fabulous sex?”
“No, but you’re not really a stranger in the night to me, you’re a national hero.”
National hero? That had a kind of ring to it. Especially coming out of her sexy mouth.
“I figured I was safe having my wicked way with you,” she added.
“Safe?” He rolled her onto her back again, pinning her down.
“Well, I like the odd risk here and there, and this one certainly paid off.” She winked. “Ben,” she whispered, sighing. “If you ever need any more assistance on your documentary making, will you call me?”
The idea of it was totally absurd, but nevertheless appealing. “I’m going have to look at my schedule, see where I can fit you in. After tonight’s session, I’m going to want your, er…help, from time to time. Dangerous though that might be.” He stroked his hands over her smooth belly and lower, to where her bare pussy seemed to beg for his fingers.
“Sounds great to me. “She flashed him a sultry look from under her lashes. “Who knew investigative documentary making could so much fun?”
“Yeah, who knew,” Ben responded, with a grin, because this kind of fun was a new one to him too.
IV
Despite his best efforts, staying awake all night had proved difficult, but it wasn’t until Patrice got up and opened the curtains that Ben realized it was well after dawn. In fact, glancing at the bedside clock, he realized it was after nine in the morning. They’d dozed on and off and he had lost all track of time.
The sun filtered through lacey curtains on the window, making the psychedelic room of the night before look much more mellow. “This room looks completely different in the daytime,” he mused as he sat up.
“That was my aim.” She shifted stuff about on her bedside table and picked up a mirror. “I’ll make coffee. First, I need lipstick.”
Ben watched as she wound the cylinder up and rode the lush red stick over her mouth, pushing them out as she did so. She had a wide, sexy mouth, and when she caught him watching her she winked and blew him a kiss. “How do I look?”
“Good enough to eat.” He was about to say more when the sound of his phone ringing came from somewhere on the floor. “I better get that.”
He stood up and fished about among his abandoned clothes, tracking the phone down to his jeans pocket.
Patrice was on her way to the door. “I’ll make us some coffee.”
He nodded, mesmerized by the look of her body, sylphlike, with the light behind it, and her hair a dramatic mess around her head.
“Hey, Liam,” he said, as he answered the phone, recognizing his brother’s number on the screen.
“I got your message. I hope you’re not lying in hospital nursing another broken limb.”
He tried to interrupt. “Liam.”
“Our mother is giving me such a hard time, you know, she pulls out her rosary beads every time your show comes on, convinced that you’re going to meet your doom.”
“Liam?” He was trying to muster up something appropriate to interrupt with, when Patrice wandered back towards him, smiling her sultry smile. Liam’s voice went on, but Ben was finding it harder to focus on what was being said.
“I can’t blame her, we’re all concerned. That stunt you did with the street gang last week. That was too close for comfort, you know.”
Patrice bent over, and kissed his cock, provocatively. “Do you take milk and sugar?”
His brother’s voice faltered when he heard Patrice’s question in the background.
“Just sugar, thanks.”
Patrice sauntered out and he watched the sway of her hips, his cock lifting its weary head despite the many rounds it had already survived, admirably.
“Was that a woman’s voice?” Liam asked.
“Yes, so let’s not take all day over this. I left you a message because the car broke down again and I need a tow.”
“That’s it?”
“Yup. So you can keep your lecture for another day.”
Liam laughed. “Well, if you’d said there was a woman…I’ll let you off the hook now.”
“You’re all heart.”
“I’ll tell our mother you’re courting a woman, that’ll give her something to focus on other than your suicidal TV antics.”
“Don’t you dare,” Ben said, but he laughed, nevertheless. “My life wouldn’t be worth living. Look, I’m in Kent, and I’m going to have to get the train back to London. I’ve got a meeting with my producer in a few hours. Will you be able to tow the car back to London for me, tomorrow?”
“When are you going to give up on that restoration? It’s a wreck.”
“Liam, I just haven’t had enough time with the show. Please?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll pick you up at your place at midday. You owe me.”
“I owe you.” They all three owed each other, countless times, but they never collected.
When he hung up, he checked the time. He’d have to leave Kent soon. He was due back in London for the meeting before midday. Glancing around the room he noticed again how different it
was in daylight, and he didn’t want to leave yet. He wanted to find out what was different about Patrice, too, in the daylight. He scrolled to his producer’s phone number and hit Call.
“Hey Joe, it’s Ben.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I wondered if we could postpone our meeting. I’m still in Kent.”
“Are you okay? Did it go as planned?”
Patrice wandered back into the room carrying two steaming mugs of coffee in one hand, and a plate of pastries in the other. She’d put on a kimono type of thing that ended on her thigh. It was tied haphazardly and her breasts were visible as she walked across the room. She put the plate and mugs down on the bedside table. “We need sustenance,” she said, suggestively. “I have pain au chocolat.”
“Sounds good.”
“Ben?”
Ben forced his attention back, which was difficult because she was bending over to pick up a cat. The kimono rode high on one side, exposing her right buttock where he caught sight of a tattoo of a red devil with horns. The little guy had a trident in one hand, and a big grin on his face.
Ben definitely did not want to hurry back to London. “Sorry, I was talking to my hostess.”
“A lady?” Joe sounded just as interested his brother had.
“Yes, good with a camera, too.”
“Glad to hear it. So, you want to postpone. Seeing as a lady is involved…” he paused for effect, “I’ll say yes, but I better give you the goods news now.”
“Good news?”
“The show is up for an award, cutting-edge documentary of the year.”
“You’re kidding!” Ben lifted up onto his elbows.
“No, I’m not, and I reckon we stand a fair chance of pulling the award. The ceremony is at the end of the month. Is the woman you’re with attractive? You’ll want to bring a woman, give the paparazzi something to gossip about.”
Joe was always thinking about the publicity angle. But just then Patrice rolled across the bed, a small fluffy cat resting on her belly. The cat eyed up the plate of pastries, head bobbing. Patrice was smiling, and her kimono was falling open.
“Oh, yes, she’s attractive.”
“Bring her along.”
“I might just do that.”
“Do you have to rush back?” she asked, when he put his phone aside.
“No.”
“Good.” She played with the cat while she watched him eat.
He studied her while he swigged coffee and devoured the pastries she’d brought. Was she the sort of woman who would come up to London to meet him? Would he be able to see her again? He certainly hoped so. He glanced around the room, trying to get clues. That was his way, after all. She liked to shop—there were knickknacks and curiosities dotted about; her artist’s touch was everywhere. If she liked art she maybe visited the galleries. He wondered if she’d been to all the good shopping spots in London. He could show her, if she hadn’t. They could even visit the galleries together.
She wiped a crumb from his chin, and then put the cat on the floor. She had a gleam in her eye, like she had mischief on her mind. What was she thinking about now?
“So, what does a guy like me have to do to get a date with a woman like you?”
She got up and stretched, and then walked to the wardrobe, dropping her kimono as she went. “I’ll give you a clue, don’t call it a date.”
“Okay.” It didn’t sound like a “no,” so he was happy with that. He rolled over and rested on his back, hands behind his head while he watched her. She bent down and wrestled around in the bottom of the wardrobe, and it made quite a picture. Her thighs were slender, her bottom perfectly heart-shaped. He could see her pussy and it was so pink and plump it had his cock lifting instantly.
“Are you feeling adventurous, Ben O’ Neil?” she called over her shoulder.
They’d been at it all night and now she wanted to make things more adventurous? No wonder she mentioned sustenance. “Always.”
The way she used his full name made him smile. It brought back echoes of his show and the challenges that were set for Ben O’Neil every week. He knew that she knew that, too.
“Just my kind of man.” She emerged with a package in her hands, and held it up.
Ben stared at it. It was a strap-on cock
“Do you think you can take it?” she teased.
Right then, he was thinking the question should have been whether or not he could take her? She was right. She was full-on. And she was also sexually adventurous. But he was just the sort of guy who liked a challenge. He nodded down at his erection, which was currently obscuring his view of the room. “What do you think, am I interested?”
She gave a mischievous chuckle and tore open the packaging.
Her breasts were riding high, the nipples tight and hard. This turned her on, she really did like being on top. He watched, mesmerized, as she put the kinky item on, belting it around her waist and between her legs. It looked outrageously pervy on her slender body, with its black leather straps and cleverly shaped cock. When she saw him watching, she stroked her hand up and down the molded cock, and licked her lips.
His blood was pumping as he anticipated her approach. She was holding a tube of lube in her hand. Bending over him, she stroked his body and then rolled him over. When she bent over and bit him in the buttock, his upper body lifted from the bed. She was full of surprises.
Alternating between kissing and biting him playfully, she made her move. He felt the cool lube spill down between his buttocks. With one hand, she stroked it between his cheeks, running her fingers gently over his anus. It was soothing and arousing all at once and his balls were pounding. “Oh, fuck, that feels good.”
She kept up the stroking for some time, so that when she moved one lubed finger inside him it slipped in easily. It was so strange, but so incredibly arousing. He clutched, then released. She climbed over him, growled in his ear, and then replaced her finger with the head of the strap on. It felt impossibly large, but she continued to murmur encouragement, her hands kneading his buttocks as she eased inside.
Tension ratcheted up his spine. Each time she kneaded him, he moved his hips, rocking back and forth. His cock was rock hard against the bed, and the friction was too good. He couldn’t help moving some more. With each rock of his hips, the artificial cock eased further inside. He’d never been so stimulated in his life, and it was forcing him to let go and enjoy. It was new, new and kinky, and his body was overwhelmed by the intense sensations. For a moment he didn’t know where he was, or who he was. Then he felt her, warm against his back, cuddling up to him and kissing the back of his shoulders while she did obscenely sexy things to his arse.
“Patrice,” he whispered. “You’re crazy.”
“I know,” she said, “but you like it.” She chuckled softly, her breath tickling the back of his neck.
“Yes, yes I do.”
“I knew you would. I always knew you would be that kind of man, Mr. Ben O’Neil.”
Then she rode a little deeper, and hit the spot.
He closed his hands over the headboard to ground himself and pressed his face into the soft pillow that smelled of her. She was all around him, and inside. Heat, burning heat, blistered through him, pleasure racing up his spine.
He closed his eyes, grunted, and let go to it.
Twelve hours ago, Ben O’ Neil had been standing on the side of a country lane, feeling thwarted. Then Patrice had come along and made his life crazy, and now there was an orgasm barreling through him like he’d never had before.
Some things are just meant to happen, he figured.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-2355-8
Strangers in the Night
Copyright © 2008 by Saskia Walker
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