by Skye Warren
“Bed,” he murmured against my lips.
We stripped at the same time, both eager. I wanted to see his body, to witness what he offered me, but it was dark in the room. Then he kissed me back onto the bed, and there was no more time to wonder. The cheap bedspread was rough and cool against my skin. His hands stroked over my breasts and then played gently with my nipples.
My body responded, turning liquid, but something was wrong.
I’d had this problem before. Not everyone wanted to play rough, but I was surprised that I’d misread him. His muscles were hard, the pads of his fingers were calloused. I didn’t know how he could touch me so softly. Everything about him screamed that he could hurt me, so why didn’t he?
I wanted him to have his nasty way with me, but every sweet caress destroyed the illusion. My fantasy was to let him do whatever he wanted with me, but not this.
“Harder,” I said. “I need it harder.”
Instead his hands gentled. The one that had been holding my breast traced the curve around and under.
I groaned in frustration. “What’s wrong?”
He reached down, still breathing heavily, and pressed a finger lightly to my cunt, then stroked upward through the moisture. I gasped, rocking my hips to follow his finger.
“You like this,” he said.
Yes, I liked it. I was undeniably aroused but too aware. I needed the emptiness of being taken. “I like it better rough.”
Colin frowned. My eyes widened at the ferocity of his expression.
In one smooth motion he flipped me onto my stomach. I lost my breath from the surprise and impact. His left hand slid under my body between my legs and cupped me. His right hand fisted in my hair, pulling my head back. His erection throbbed beside my ass in promise. I wanted to beg him to fuck me, but all I could do was gasp. He didn’t need to be told, though, and ground against me, using my hair as a handle.
That small pain on my scalp was perfection, sharp and sweet. Numbness spread through me, as did relief.
The pain dimmed. My arousal did too, but that was okay. I was only vaguely aware of him continuing to work my body from behind.
I went somewhere else in my mind. I’d stay that way all night.
At least that’s what usually happened. Not this time. Instead I felt light strokes on my hair, my arms, my back. His cock pulsed hot against my thigh, but he didn’t try to put it inside me, not in any of the places it would almost fit. His hands on me didn’t even feel sexual. He petted me, and I arched into his caress.
“Why did you stop?” I meant it to come out demanding, but instead I sounded weak. I hated sounding weak, especially about sex. He may be the one with the cock and the fists, but I called the shots. I had to.
“Allie, shhh. It’s okay.” He was trying to soothe me, and it was working. He turned me back over and began to kiss me, still murmuring words against my lips. “I’ll give it to you. Don’t worry. Relax.” More words than he’d spoken all night.
I was lost, my emotions all jumbled up from my arousal and my high and subsequent low, at the mercy of this stranger.
What’s happening to me? I needed to get back to something I knew. I wanted him to fuck me, to be inside me, to center me. I whimpered, hoping he’d understand.
“Shhh.” He arranged my arms and legs so that they were splayed open on the bed and then kissed his way down my stomach. I shifted restlessly, knowing what he planned to do.
I didn’t want to say no, exactly, but I couldn’t look forward to it. That would probably have sounded weird to some people, that I would have rather gone down on a guy than have him go down on me.
Giving head was a no-brainer for me. I loved cocks, the way they tasted and felt in my mouth. And just the invasion of it, the submission. It was a pretty gross thing to do when I thought about it. Maybe that’s why women didn’t like blowjobs, but they didn’t understand about the power.
Colin, however, settled down between my open legs like he planned to stay. I felt too self-conscious to say anything at all, especially while he was focused on such an intimate place. I couldn’t help but tense up.
He kissed the inside of my thigh, his fingers trailing the path of his mouth. He switched to the other thigh, and only when my hips tilted up slightly did he move closer to my center. He licked through my folds, the soft contact startling. His fingers played there too, but he didn’t ram his fingers inside me or press my clit. He just licked and suckled and dipped his tongue inside to lap at the wetness pooling there.
It was almost like he wasn’t trying to get me to come. In my experience a guy would aim for the good parts and try to get me off as fast as possible, if he even bothered. But Colin licked me like he had all the time in the world. He wasn’t speeding up or pushing me on.
The room was silent except for the wet sounds from his mouth on me. The pressure of having to perform an orgasm eased with his leisurely pace. He didn’t seem to be expecting me to come now, so it was okay that I didn’t. I relaxed into the pleasure, luxuriating in this new sort of worship. God, was this why women loved getting oral sex?
Liquid released from inside me and slid out onto his tongue. He moaned. He actually moaned like…I don’t know, like it tasted good. As if the taste of me had turned him on. Damn, that turned me on right back.
For all that I liked giving head, I’d never thought a man could really want to do it to me. He wouldn’t like the taste or his tongue would get tired or he’d get bored, but Colin didn’t seem to be thinking any of those things. The slow, languid way he licked me again and again spoke of someone who was enjoying himself.
And then, without me having to fake it, my hips rocked in a thrusting motion. He hadn’t sped up, but the sensations of his mouth and his own appreciation of the act propelled me toward orgasm. I didn’t want it to end.
Colin read my body’s pleas and moved his mouth up to my clit. He sucked and slid his finger inside me, using the rhythm of my hips as a guide. So damned good. I couldn’t help the moans that came out of my mouth. I’d heard the phrase “I’d die if he stopped,” and I’d never understood it before now. I wouldn’t have died if he’d stopped, but I just might have cried.
I’d had sex lots of times, but I’d never had a lover so in tune with what my body wanted. It was a conversation, one my mind was barely aware of, but my body knew instinctively.
He played me like he already knew me. He didn’t tease me, not withholding my climax or any of that tantric shit, for which I might have had to kill him. But neither did he rush me toward climax. It was as if his entire purpose had narrowed to drawing out my moans.
My whole body went taut, muscles tight, hips flexed up to push against his mouth. My inner muscles clenched at his fingers, pulling them deeper. My breath stopped, and all I could do was make a choking sound. I came and came and came; all I could think was that I’d found something I’d lost.
Colin stroked me through my climax. I jerked violently when his tongue flicked over my clit one last time, and he withdrew his fingers. I expected him to put his cock inside me. Instead he climbed up my body and lay beside me.
He wasn’t going to do it.
I felt vulnerable right then, and he knew it. He was going to try to be honorable or something. I didn’t want that. I couldn’t believe in it.
His cock looked dark and thick and wet at the tip. Something softened in a deep, cold place inside my chest that he was willing to postpone his pleasure for my ridiculous personal shit. That he would even know I had any personal shit when this was just a random hookup.
But no, I wanted to please him. He let me push him fully onto his back. I climbed over him and teased him into an openmouthed kiss, ran my hands down his chest. I wanted to give him something, and this was all I had to give.
I’d thought he wanted to be submissive to me, from his gentleness, the way he had worshipped me during oral sex, and the way he was pliant when I pushed him over. It wasn’t a role I’d have thought I’d like, but I found myself willi
ng to go there for him. I already knew I’d go down on him. I was looking forward to blowing his mind, along with his cock.
But as I started trailing my kisses downward, my intention clear, he stopped me and shook his head slightly. I’d never had a man turn down a blowjob before. I’d never heard of it happening, not during sex, not when it was free. It flustered me, the way he could do anything to me but he chose to make me feel good.
He arranged me again, so that I was straddling his hips with my legs on either side of him, resting my hands on his chest. His arousal bobbed up toward my hanging breasts.
Colin reached across the bed to his jeans and pulled a condom out of his wallet. He slipped it on and maneuvered my hips onto his erection, then down, slowly. The tautness of his face spoke of urgency, but he held my hips still. We were on his time.
At last he rocked up with tiny thrusts. When I caught the rhythm on my own, he released my hips and smoothed one hand back along my ass. The other came up to my breasts, stroking them, tweaking them.
I could feel the difference in his touch from before. He wasn’t trying to get me off now. He was playing with me for his own pleasure. I leaned into his touch, and he sucked my nipple into his mouth.
My arousal built, taunting me, and I tried to speed up.
His hand tightened on my ass. No, not yet.
I relaxed into the rocking motion as the pleasure between my legs grew. This was nothing like the sex I’d had before. It was more like a dance or even a meditation. I had no idea how much time passed, but when my legs got sore and tingly, he rolled us over.
He surged into me deeper, in an aggressive rhythm that took me faster and harder. I pulled my legs higher and curled my hands lightly on his neck, opening my body in supplication. I wasn’t an active participant any longer. I couldn’t help him or even react—I could only take it.
I came again, and this time it wasn’t in a blinding explosion but a soft wave. Not a crest but a hum of pleasure, accented with each of his thrusts.
He buried his face into the side of my neck, groaning roughly as he came. His whole body rumbled at the sound, shuddered at his release. His arms tightened their hold on my body, and his hips pushed down into me, harder, deeper—yes.
He collapsed and rolled off me. He lay faceup, eyes closed, breathing hard. Colin looked beautiful to me, then. I might have thought he was handsome before, or maybe not, but it was an objective sort of observation. Looking at him now, knowing him—it was too much.
I stumbled off the bed and into the bathroom. I felt my own wetness sticky on the insides of my thighs, but I didn’t bother to wash. I sat down on the linoleum and leaned my back against the bathtub, trying to get it together.
I’d thought his sweetness was weak, but that wasn’t true at all. He was entirely in control, treating me the way he wanted, not the way I asked for it. And more than that, he seemed to know what I needed, giving it to me despite myself.
He walked into the bathroom, still naked, and sat next to me on the cold floor. I thought it was pretty silly and not totally clean. He put his arm around me and wiped away the tears I wanted to hide. I cried quietly for who knows how long while he held me.
I knew I’d feel stupid when I came back to reality, so I held it off as long as I could. Even after I stopped crying, I kept my eyes closed and buried myself into his side.
Then his stomach growled. We wouldn’t be able to sit here forever.
I peeked at him. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it wouldn’t be good. Anger maybe, or frustration, disgust, pity, or any number of bad things might be there, before he got the hell out of Dodge.
Instead his lips quirked up into a wry smile. “I’d like to see you again, but this doesn’t bode well for my chances.”
I laughed, the sound loud in the small space, because it wasn’t at all what I’d expected. It could have just been my postorgasm, postbreakdown hormones talking, but if I were honest with myself, I was already falling for him.
That didn’t matter, because I had other considerations. One, mostly, but she was enough.
“I like you,” I hedged. The disappointment that flickered in his eyes said he read my tone correctly. “But I don’t think so.”
He considered me for a moment. “Okay,” he said. “That’s not what we’re here for, so I won’t push.”
He got up and offered me his hand. In the bedroom he handed me my clothes in between putting on his own. I averted my eyes, not because I didn’t want to see, but because there was a formality between us now that we’d had sex but weren’t going to see each other again.
“I’ll drop the key off at the front,” he said. “You can finish up in here.”
“Okay.”
He turned back at the door. “Listen, I own the Oasis Grill down on Kirby, okay? In case you change your mind. Just ask for me.”
He paused and then added, “Colin.”
I hadn’t forgotten.
“Maybe,” I said with a noncommittal smile.
“Bye, Allie. Take care.”
I peered through the blinds and watched his truck leave the parking lot. So, that was that. Why did I feel a lingering sense of loss? He was a stranger to me. He had to stay that way. That’s what this night was for—dirty, emotionless sex. Though this night had been distinctly less dirty and far less emotionless than I liked.
Chapter Three
I left the motel room, my mind blissfully blank as I drove through the sleepy Chicago streets. My apartment building loomed up ahead, its gray stucco walls and barred windows making it look more like a jail than a home. In Stone Park, that was an amenity. Don’t bother breaking in, it said. You won’t find anything valuable.
Within the white walls of my apartment, I took a quick shower to rid myself of the smoky stench of the clubs and the musky smell of sex. I didn’t mind them, at least not tonight, but I didn’t allow any remnants of my monthly date nights to seep into my regular life. Colin included.
I changed into my standard uniform, sweatpants and a tee. My flip-flops slapped the concrete stairs as I ran up to the identical apartment above mine.
Shelly answered the door. Her hair and makeup were done, though she wore jeans and a tank top. She had an appointment after this.
“So. How was your date?” The lilt in her voice made everything sound ironic, though in this case, the word date certainly was.
I hummed in response as I followed her into the living room and flopped down beside her on the couch. I accepted the ice-cream pint and spoon she offered.
“Uh-oh,” she said. “What happened this time?”
“I didn’t say anything happened.” I took a bite. “This is chocolate. How can you eat chocolate this late? It’ll keep you up.”
“Don’t change the subject. Spill.”
I sighed and took another bite. “This guy. He wasn’t like the others.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, he was…gentle.”
“Oh,” she said, knowing. “You should let me hook you up.”
I shot her a dark look over the spoon.
“I’m just saying. If you’re only in it for the sex, you might as well get paid. You can even charge extra to get roughed up.”
“Right, so I can get put in jail for solicitation. No, thank you.”
She rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t happen. Hardly ever.”
“We’re not having this conversation.” I didn’t judge Shelly for what she did. I admired her strength. But I had to draw the line somewhere. Right now I was just a regular single mom with her rare date nights. If things got a little heated, who was to know? But accepting payment would change the score. Right now I was in control.
Or I usually was.
I passed the carton of ice cream back to her. “Besides, it wasn’t exactly…”
It wasn’t exactly bad. It had been amazing. Real, my mind whispered. That was what real sex was supposed to be like. It had been anything but bad.
“Allie?”
<
br /> I looked up and found her watching me.
I smiled briefly. “Sorry. I’m a little distracted.”
“I can see that. Curiouser and curiouser.” Shelly liked to quote Alice in Wonderland to me. It was our secret joke, one I never quite appreciated.
“Don’t be dramatic. It wasn’t completely lame. That’s all.”
“I see.” The teasing light extinguished from her eyes. “Allison, we have to talk.”
Nothing good ever came from hearing my full name. “Bailey?”
“No, she’s fine. But…it’s related.”
A knot formed in my stomach, threatening to expel the churning mixture of chocolate ice cream and alcohol.
“He called me,” Shelly said. She was watching me, probably wondering how I would react. I wondered the same thing. I had the expected feelings: fear, revulsion. But maybe relief too, that the paralyzing wait had come to an end. “He said he just wanted to catch up. And…he asked about you. I told him I didn’t know where you were.”
“How did he find you?”
“Same number since high school.” She put up her hands. I’m sorry. “Changing numbers is not a good business move for me. Still, I think we may have taken the hiding-in-plain-sight idea a little too far.”
“I’m not hiding.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“I’m not doing it well,” I admitted. “He was the one who left.”
Shelly didn’t press me, thank God. We walked into her bedroom, where Bailey slept in the middle of the queen-size bed wrapped in fuzzy pajamas, her little fist against her mouth. I scooped my baby girl up, huffing a breath under the weight. Well, she’d be two years old in a few short months, not exactly a baby anymore.
Turning sideways through the bedroom doorway, I left Shelly’s place and carried Bailey down to our apartment, depositing her in her own secondhand princess bed. Already in her pajamas, she slept on as I tucked her in under the sheet. I gave her a kiss on the forehead and paused to breathe in her scent. That turned out to be a mistake, because she chose that moment to wake. I calmed her as she fussed, singing my small retinue of nursery rhymes until my voice had gone hoarse and her eyelids stopped fluttering.