by P. J. Mellor
No doubt about it, a month was entirely too long to remain celibate. Even the smell of a stranger’s aftershave got her hot.
Aroused and restless, she stepped back to lean against the corner of the elevator, and to wait for her floor number to appear above the door.
The space was already occupied. And it smelled wonderful.
Hard arms surrounded her to prevent her fall as she attempted to leap forward.
“I—I’m sorry!” Heat seared her cheeks and she tried desperately to remember if she’d actually been touching herself. “I didn’t see you there!”
“My pleasure,” came the deep, rumbling, Texas-accented voice above her head.
His arms tightened when she tried again to step forward, and she craned her neck to look up at her companion. Way up.
At almost five-foot-one—five-foot-five in her stilettos—Kinsey knew she looked much taller, due to her long legs. This guy was tall, no matter what the length of his legs. Easily six-foot-four or maybe more.
His head of full salt-and-pepper hair belied the youthfulness of his face. Chiseled cheeks, dark, full mustache, firm lower lip. The cleft in his chin made her salivate with the desire to lick it.
Realizing she was staring at his mouth, she raised her gaze to his eyes. Oh, wow. Brilliant blue, fringed with a double row of long eyelashes, they made her own baby blues pale by comparison.
She shifted within his embrace. It was then that she noticed his hands had somehow found their way beneath her coat. Calluses abraded the tender skin of her rib cage.
They stood, eyes locked, for a moment, before he began to back away.
Suddenly it was extremely important that she not leave his warmth. His safety. His sexuality.
“Don’t,” she rasped, her hands sliding up to his shoulders. “Not yet.”
His nostrils flared a nanosecond before his mouth lowered to hers.
He paused, his lips so close to her own that she felt their warmth. His breath mingled with hers.
“This is crazy,” he mumbled.
“Yes,” she agreed on a sigh and closed the distance.
Whether it was the man, the champagne, the gentle rumble of thunder in the distance combined with the smooth motion of the elevator, or hormones, she knew instantly that she could not leave him. Not now. Not tonight.
The bristle of his mustache brushed against her upper lip, causing her to open her mouth wider for his entrance.
Either instant chemistry or a jolt of thunder caused electricity to zip through her body from her mouth to every fingertip and toe.
He groaned into her mouth—the sound causing delicious vibrations—and gathered her impossibly closer.
He wore blue jeans, the rough denim setting off sensations on her bare thighs, the large buckle at his waist a distinct barrier to what she sought.
Never breaking lip contact, his hands skimmed her body, leaving a trail of fiery need.
Lungs burning, she gasped when he finally released her mouth to slide nipping kisses down her throat to her breast. There, he licked and suckled, his hairy upper lip brushing against the ultrasensitive nipples until she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming her pleasure.
While he suckled her, his hands delved into her panties to find her wet and wanting. One hard thumb brushed back and forth across her distended nub, causing stars to dance before her eyes.
Her breath hitched in her throat and she knew her climax was near. Against her breast, his hot breath came in hard pants.
Ding!
Kinsey scarcely had time to jerk her coat tightly around her before the doors whooshed open. In front of her, the man straightened up and drew her close against his aroused body as an older couple stepped onto the elevator.
One large hand snaked beneath her coat to toy with her nipple while his other arm remained wrapped securely around her, hiding their activity from the other passengers.
Wet and wanting, Kinsey surreptitiously brushed her dampness against the straining denim.
On the fifth floor, the elevator stopped and the couple stepped out.
As soon as the doors closed, his mouth was on hers, hungrily devouring her, his hands caressing her breasts.
The elevator stopped again and she stepped away, taking great gulping breaths. It was her floor. She reached for his hand.
“It’s time to get off.” She flashed her card key and smiled her most wicked smile. “Literally.”
2
Marcus Wallace numbly followed the blond goddess from the elevator. Well, maybe numb was the wrong word. At least one part of his anatomy was throbbing with life.
He’d thought her the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen when she’d stepped into the elevator. Now, flushed with arousal, she’d elevated to breathtaking status.
What the hell was he doing? It was insane. Possibly dangerous. Absolutely compelling. Irresistible.
Though he’d never believed in fate, it was the only conclusion he could come up with for why, at this low point in his life, an angel appeared.
With her sexual glow and tousled blond hair, she looked more like a fallen angel.
He looked down, admiring the partially exposed breast revealed while she used her card key. Could she be a prostitute?
“Listen,” he began, “about tonight—”
“Shh.” She held one slim finger against her kiss-swollen lips. “Let’s just enjoy each other. Tonight.”
“But I don’t even know your name! I—”
“Shh,” she said again, rising on tiptoe to brush her lips against his, her hand brushing his eager cock. “No names. No strings. Just for tonight…okay?”
In answer, he lifted her from her feet and walked into the suite while kissing her. With one booted foot, he kicked the door shut and let her slide down his aroused body.
“Let’s get you out of these clothes.” She reached for his calf-roping belt buckle.
“If you’re undressing me, I need something to occupy my hands.” He slipped her coat from her shoulders and let it fall to her feet. What he saw took his breath away.
Clad in nothing but a white thong and what his brother called fuck-me high heels, her body held shapely hips, a narrow waist and a rack that would put most centerfolds to shame. She was every young man’s wet dream. Some older men, too, he thought ruefully.
The blush that tinged her cheeks reassured him. Hookers probably didn’t blush. That, plus the way her small hands shook, told him she wasn’t a professional.
He captured both her hands with his left one and raised them to his lips. Watching her face, especially those wide blue eyes, he licked and kissed each slim finger. Her nails were short and unpolished, which seemed more erotic than the long, blood-red lengths many women sported. More personal. More sensitive. Erotic.
Her breath caught and became shallow. Beneath his thumb, her pulse fluttered.
He dropped her hands and cupped her breasts while she resumed work on his belt buckle and button fly. His jeans hit the carpet with a soft thud and the chink of change. She grasped the elastic waistband of his silk boxers and tugged, then stepped out of her panties and shoes while he ripped at the snap front of his Western shirt until they faced each other.
Naked.
He’d never thought much about his height until he saw his erection jutting near her breast. Damn. Would they even fit together? Could he hold her up long enough to sufficiently fuck her?
He ran his hands over her silky skin and groaned. There wasn’t enough time in the universe to sufficiently fuck her.
But he’d do his damndest.
“Here,” she whispered. “I want you to take me here first.” She led him to a wingback chair by the fireplace and pushed him until he sat with an ungraceful plop.
The leather was cold against his bare butt, but he immediately forgot everything when she climbed up and straddled his lap.
Her damp sex brushed his cock, her heat radiating against his skin, eliciting a drop of moisture to pearl on the engorged tip whil
e he fumbled with the condom.
Her hands were cool where they cupped his cheeks, her lips sweet as they brushed his, once, twice, then settled into a lingering kiss.
It was more than he could stand. And not nearly enough.
Blood roaring through his veins, he was more alive than he’d been for a long time. Taking charge, he deepened the kiss and flexed his hips. His sex entered her tight, hot core at the same time his tongue entered her sweet mouth. Teeth clicked.
She broke the kiss and arched back, giving him access to her breasts. Her nipples tasted like champagne, giving him an insatiable thirst.
She rode him hard, giving as good as she got, until their shouts of climax filled the sitting room of the suite.
Damn. He’d wanted to last longer. For her. For him. But she got him so damn hot…. Next time. He’d prove himself next time.
“Mmm,” she purred, and kissed her way up his neck where she licked his earlobe. Deep within her, his sex stirred with renewed interest.
She leaned back, blue eyes wide. “Again?” she asked with wonder in her voice. “So soon?” By her cat that ate the canary smile, he could tell she relished the idea. “Why don’t we take a bath?” she suggested as she rose from his lap, one foot on either side of his hips. This action placed her shockingly bare feminine lips directly in front of his face. He gently blew on the damp skin, which caused her to clamp her legs together from knee to crotch, then grasp his shoulders in a momentary effort to regain her balance.
The idea that she could possibly be modest after what had transpired between them was funny, so he laughed.
It felt good. The first honest laugh in too long. Then, careful not to upset her balance, he leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on the fragrant folds. Unable to resist, he swiped the swollen bud with his tongue, tasting her passion.
Her knees wobbled, but she climbed off his lap and almost ran to the bathroom door. “I’ll start the bath!” she called, then disappeared.
“I’ll be right there,” he assured her, unsure if she’d even heard his reply, and reached for the phone. “Hello? Yes, this is Marc Wallace, in room…” He stretched and grabbed the cardkey folder from its resting place on the bureau, “…four-ten. I’d like a magnum of champagne, please. Right away. Yes, that would be fine.”
He glanced at the foil wrapper on the floor. He’d only carried one. “Oh, and could you throw in a box of condoms? No, doesn’t matter what kind. And add some fresh fruit and a large bowl of whipped cream in crushed ice, please. Thanks.
“Oh, yeah.” He rubbed his face, pushed his normally reserved libido away and headed after his latest lover. “It’s gonna be an interesting night.”
Kinsey settled into the churning water and sighed. Perhaps she’d been impetuous for the first time in her life, but damn, it felt good. One jet gently fluttered her still swollen labia. It felt interesting, so she spread her legs a bit wider to get the full effect.
Oh, yeah. She smiled and sighed. She could definitely get used to this.
She picked up the sponge and trickled water across the tops of her exposed breasts. The effect, combined with the warmer water jostling beneath, was taking her from relaxed and sated to aroused at the speed of light. What was taking him so long?
The bubbles relaxed her somewhat and she sank lower, one hand stroking the most intimate part of her. Her parents had made no bones about masturbation being a sin. Karly had been doing it for years, of course, before she and Brad were married. But Kinsey was the “good twin” and strived for parental approval, even when they couldn’t possibly know.
Until now.
Tired of waiting, she began caressing her breasts. The peaks immediately pebbled and she tried to lick her nipples, like she’d seen on cable, but found it impossible. Still, it felt amazing to gently stroke and squeeze.
She closed her eyes and again let one hand slip beneath the water. With her legs still spread, she was able to stroke without changing position. Her fingers rapidly learned each delicate fold. What felt good. What felt better.
Her breathing became shallow. Eyes closed, she moved her hand faster, relishing the feel of warm water against the swollen, sensitized petals each time she moved her fingers.
“Oh-oh-ah!” Her back arched, raising the tips of her breasts out of the water to be kissed by the cooler air, in what had to be classified as a world-shaking orgasm.
A strangled sound drew her attention and she opened her eyes.
He stood at the open door of the bathroom, eyes wide, mouth working, with easily a world-class erection.
Embarrassment at being caught in such a private and intimate act heated her cheeks. Maybe he’d think it was from the heat of the steam.
He sat on the top step, close enough for him to stroke her breasts, but far enough away that she couldn’t reach anything fun on him.
His fingertip drew a lazy circle on the tip of her right breast before rubbing back and forth across the tip. Lightly. Any lighter and he wouldn’t be touching her at all.
“Do that again,” he commanded in a low growl. “I missed the beginning.”
Kinsey swallowed and chewed the edge of her lower lip. “I was just, um, I mean—”
“You were masturbating while you waited for me.” His slow grin caused her to squirm in the warm water.
“No!” She shook her head, damp curls sticking to her cheeks. Irritated, she spit a piece of hair away from her mouth. “I was just—”
“Masturbating. I want you to do it again. I want to watch you.” He seemed to make himself more comfortable on the step. Her eyes widened when she peeked over the edge of the tub to see his large hand close around his rigid penis. “Please.” Their eyes met. “Do it,” he commanded.
Unable to break away from the vivid blue of his stare, Kinsey reached below the churning water to stroke her open lips. After the first awkward moment, her muscles relaxed, her movements becoming less controlled.
Warm water caressed her with the silken heat of a lover’s tongue. She broke eye contact and closed her eyes to center her mind on the delicious sensations flowing through her body.
To imagine his tongue…down there, doing that.
Lightning flashed behind her eyelids. Her breath hitched, uterus clenched. Her climax came so suddenly and fierce, she had to clutch the edge of the tub to keep from sliding beneath the water.
Beside her, the stranger’s bicep bulged. His strokes became shorter. Harder. Faster. A great shuddering groan shook his broad shoulders.
Kinsey peeked over the rim. Yep. Him, too.
She felt for the washcloth and averted her eyes while he cleaned himself up, and wondered what the protocol was for this type of situation. Would he step into the adjoining clear-glass-enclosed shower so she could grab a towel and make a run for the relative safety of the bed? And if he did take a shower, did she have the stamina to leave the room without at least checking out his, well, his, uh…package one more time?
Eyes closed, she debated with herself while the shower turned on. Before she could come to any conclusive decision, the decision was made for her.
Work-roughened hands gripped her beneath both armpits, effortlessly lifting her from the water. Before she could form any kind of response, she was standing in the already steamy shower enclosure. It grew immediately smaller as he stepped in and closed the door.
“My turn,” he said, reaching for the soap.
“But I—”
“Shh.” His mustache brushed her lips when he whispered, “It was your idea, darlin’. Remember? No words. No strings. Just this.” His lathered hands came up to stroke liquid heat all around each breast, setting off tingles clear down both legs to her toes.
“Do you like that?” His voice was more a vibration against her mouth than actual speech. Against her belly, his erection gently thumped her skin, a reminder that their tryst was far from over. Thank you, Lord!
She took a deep breath, pushing her breasts more fully into his soapy palms. Blindly reaching fo
r the soap, she lathered up a froth and reached for his most obvious part.
A growl came from somewhere deep in his throat.
“Shut up and kiss me,” she whispered against his mouth.
3
While the man paid the room-service waiter, Kinsey leaned against the bathroom doorway, wrapped securely in the hotel’s plush white robe, and tried to remember when her legs had taken on the consistency of wet spaghetti.
She glanced longingly at the king-size bed and wondered if her new lover would mind if she took a quick nap. For maybe two or three days. Just enough to recharge her batteries. Who knew sex could be so wonderful…and exhausting?
Someone, probably her stud muffin, had turned back the covers to reveal the welcoming smoothness of the silken sheets. She sighed. If she weren’t so exhausted, she could come up with some pretty hot fantasies as to what she’d like to do to him on those sheets. As it was, after their sexual gymnastics in the shower and the thorough full-body massage he’d given her on the pretext of rubbing in the scented oil, she just wanted to crawl between the divine-looking sheets and conk out.
The man hung the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the doorknob, closed the door and clicked the locks. He then rolled the cart close to the side of the bed.
Evidently he had no plans to sleep in the immediate future.
She watched as he opened what looked to be a huge bottle of champagne and set it on the nightstand. He uncovered the dishes, then poured two flutes of bubbly. With a fluid movement, he whipped his towel from lean hips and slipped between the sheets.
But not before she caught a glimpse of a firm backside that made her want to see more.
With a renewed interest, she walked to the other side of the bed and smiled shyly at the hunk reclined before her. She must have done something right in her life to deserve a last fling like this.
He reached to dip a plump strawberry in a huge bowl of whipped cream, and offered it to her.
She shook her head, suddenly hungry, but not for food.