The Surprise

by Alice Ward

  He laughed and rolled to face me, grimaced, and looked down. I looked down too, seeing that he’d rolled onto the used condom. Picking it up, he tied it off and tossed it toward the trash can by the bed. “I’m surprised that thing isn’t in shreds.”

  “Are you implying that my vagina has teeth?”

  He laughed. “Not at all. It’s more like fangs.” He looked down at his chest where there were long red marks from my nails. “And you have claws. How did you do all this with such short nails?”

  “Sorry.”

  God, that grin. “No, you’re not. Sorry doesn’t equal smiling like a maniac.”

  And I was. My cheeks were actually starting to hurt from smiling so much. “I think you bring out the maniac in me.”

  His eyes searched my face. “So, you’re a mix of Delilah and Samantha. Who else dwells behind those freckles?”

  My stomach growled. Loudly. I laughed and pressed my hand to it, feeling my face growing warm. “Apparently, I do have a monster lurking in me, but unfortunately, I haven’t named it yet.”

  He rose to his elbow. “I did promise my friend that I’d feed you. I’ll call up room service if you’ll tell me what you want.”

  My answer was immediate. “Pancakes.”

  He lifted a brow. “Pancakes, huh? Buttermilk or chocolate chip?”

  I had to give that question some thought. “Buttermilk, with warm maple syrup and strawberries on the side.”

  He kissed the tip of my nose before rolling off the bed. I watched his tight ass cross the room, not even a sliver of embarrassment as he walked into the bathroom. A minute later, there was a flush, then… yes… he was washing his hands. A man I could really fall in love with.

  I jerked up and yanked the sheet up with me. Stupid thinking on my part. There would be no love because there would be no man in… I glanced at the bedside clock. Holy crap. Less than three hours. We had been screwing around, literally, for over two hours. Two amazing hours I’d never forget.

  The bathroom door opened, and he walked back into the bedroom, wearing a pair of boxers, the loose ones this time, not the tight athletic ones that showed every curve of his fantastic cock. The cock I wanted again.

  Feeling suddenly shy, I pulled on the sheet some more, winding it around me as I stood from the bed. “You have a beautiful body,” he said, those eyes seeming to glow in the light, “there’s no need to cover it up.” He picked my white shirt up from the floor then made an oops face as another button fell off. He tossed it on a chair and picked up the one he’d worn earlier. “Here, you can have mine. It’s only fair since I busted yours up pretty good.”

  Giving him a grateful smile, I slipped it on my arms and buttoned it up. It fell almost to my knees, and the already rolled up sleeves drooped nearly to my wrist bones. I rolled them up a few more times before heading to the bathroom while my mystery man called for food.

  As I washed my hands, I examined myself, expecting to find bruises and hickey marks all over my neck and shoulders. There was nothing. I was both disappointed and relieved to find that he’d been careful not to mark me, even when he appeared to have lost all control.

  I was sore and thought I’d probably be getting even more so, and my nipples burned as they rubbed against his shirt. But overall, I felt wonderfully sexy and sated, while also knowing I’d jump back in bed for more if he so much as crooked his little finger.

  Back in the bedroom, I didn’t find him there, so I headed into the living area of the suite to find him standing in front of a tall window, looking out into the night. He heard me coming and turned, the grin reappearing as he extended a hand to me.

  I took it and found myself standing in front of him, his chin on my head, his arms holding me tight. From the glow of the airport, I saw a plane take off, swooping up into the night, the blinking lights growing fainter.

  “Will you miss it?” I asked, watching the cars and pedestrians hustling around, even at this late hour.

  He kissed my hair. “Yes and no. Where I’m going is very different, and I’m sure there will be times when I miss the bustle of the city.”

  “In what ways is it different?”

  He made a sound, kind of like a snort. “In every way possible.”

  I craned my head to look up at him. “Is that a good thing?”

  He pressed his lips to my forehead. “Yes and no.”

  Turning in his arms, I pressed my cheek to his chest, close to where his incredible tattoo began. “Make up a story about where you’re going so I can file it away in my fantasy memory bank.”

  He chuckled, his hands rubbing up and down my back. “Let’s see. Samson is heading to a very poor region in, let’s say, Nigeria, where he walks on water and then turns it into wine.”

  I fake frowned up at him. “I think you have your Biblical characters confused. And, not to be picky, it feels a little weird to have Jesus anywhere in the same memory bank as what just happened in that bedroom.”

  “Well, we can’t have that.” He appeared to give his story some thought. “Then let’s say that Samson is a doctor.”

  I snorted. “Yeah, cause doctors are demigods? In their own minds, at least.” He narrowed his eyes and alarm bells rang in my head. I reared back. “Oh, crap. Are you a doctor? Sorry. I was just kidding. I—”

  He shut me up with a kiss. “Do I look like a doctor?”

  I considered that, traced a finger across the dark lines of the intricate tattoo going down his arm. “Well, actually, no. Maybe a television Dr. McDreamy kind of doctor, but not like the kind I would normally see in real life.”

  His eyes gleamed, like he was enjoying our little game. “Then, which profession do you believe I belong to?”

  I was saved from answering by a knock sounding on our door, causing me to jump. Food. My stomach growled at the thought, and Samson laughed. I was about to excuse myself to the bedroom when I noticed my purse tipped over by the door. I raced over and scooped up my belongings before making my escape.

  Setting my purse next to the bed, I pulled out my phone as I listened to the clinking of dishes in the other room. My stomach growled as I scrolled through my text messages. Four were from Amy.

  Are you okay?

  Is he as good as he looks?

  Text me!!!

  If I don’t hear from you in an hour, I’m calling the police!

  I checked the time, realizing I had thirteen minutes left before that deadline. I tapped out a reply: I’m amazing. He’s even better. I’ve got three more hours so leave me alone! :-) Luv u.

  The response was immediate: Standing down. Have fun. Need deets 2morrow. Luv u 2.

  “Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and midnight snack is served.”

  Smiling was so easy around him, and I did so widely as I tucked my phone back into my bag. “You’re a maître d’ in real life?” I guessed, heading in his direction.

  He laughed and gave me a little bow. “You know me so well.”

  I tugged at the belt of the robe he’d pulled on before answering the door, then raised onto my tiptoes to press my lips against his. “After pancakes, I’d like to get to know you some more.”

  His pupils flared, causing those amber eyes to darken, making him more predator-like. He yanked me to his chest. “I know you’re starving, but let’s eat quickly. Time is running out.”

  The food was delicious, the pancakes fluffier than I could ever make them. How did restaurants manage to do that? How did my mother? A pang of loss hit me as I remembered stirring the batter, her hand covering mine as we laughed. The good days. The days before—

  “What’s wrong?”

  My head snapped up, and I realized I’d been staring at my plate instead of eating.

  I slowly laid the fork on the side of the plate and lifted a napkin to my lips. “Sorry, lost in thought. Do you have any idea how they make these so perfect?”

  “What’s wrong?” he repeated, clearly not taken in by my ruse or my desire to not talk about the direction an innocent pancake
had taken my mind.

  “Are you a psychologist?” I asked, continuing to evade, forcing a playful smile onto my lips.

  His eyes stayed on me, piercing. Concerned. But he leaned back and took a drink of his juice. “How does that make you feel?”

  I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. He was funny, and it gave me the comic relief I needed. As his mouth lifted, just that one side, making him perfectly irresistible, my stomach twisted, and I wasn’t hungry any more.

  I stood, reached for a strawberry, and strode over to his chair. Straddling his lap, I put the strawberry between my teeth, hoping I looked sexy instead of stupid. “Hungry?” His eyes danced, crinkling at the corners as the word came out more like hungwey. I groaned and plucked the fruit out. “Dammit. I spoiled my sexy move.”

  He unfastened the top button of my — his — shirt, then the next. “You didn’t spoil anything,” he said as he opened the front all the way. “In fact, your, um, accent made it hotter. Do it again.”

  Still grinning, I put the strawberry between my teeth and offered it to him a second time. His amber eyes blazing, he lowered his head until his teeth closed around the protruding half. Our lips met as he bit down, the juice squirting into my mouth.

  I was finding it hard to breathe again as we both chewed, just gazing at each other. His cock stirred under me, and I rocked my hips, grinding down onto him.

  “They didn’t have mangos,” he said as his hands moved to my breasts, rolling the nipples between his fingers. He remembered that I loved them. My heart squeezed. “I was hoping to watch you peel one, eat one. Hoped I’d get lucky enough to lick the stickiness away.”

  That gave me an idea.

  Twisting in his lap, I reached for another strawberry. I bit off the tip, then ran the exposed part of the fruit down my chin.

  His eyes blazed as he realized my intentions, and he leaned forward, his cock growing harder beneath me. Very slowly, he licked the juice with the flat of his tongue before capturing my lips. When he leaned back again, I ran the strawberry down my carotid artery. His nostrils flared and his tongue cleaned that spot very thoroughly, lingering around my pulse, which I knew had increased in speed dramatically.

  My collarbone was next. Then the place where cleavage would have been if my breasts were bigger. I made that involuntary mewling sound as I covered a nipple with the sweet juice and watched his head lower to suck it off.

  “My turn,” I said when he sat back, clearly eager for more. “I want to taste too.”

  Turning and picking up another strawberry, I lifted it to his lips and he stared deeply into my eyes as he bit into the flesh. He then took it from my hand, and with a little smirk, touched it to his forehead. I smiled and pulled his head down so I could kiss the juice away, the sweetness of the fruit mingling with the salt from his skin. When I was finished, he touched one cheek, then the other, then traced it over his bottom lip.

  I kissed him, feeling the scruff of his five o’clock shadow under my tongue, then followed the path to the other cheek before pulling his lower lip between my teeth.

  He continued the game, and I licked away the juice from his Adam’s apple. His shoulder. One nipple, then the next. I laughed as he drew a straight line from his sternum to his belly button, scrubbing the fruit up and down his washboard abs a few times. Moving until I was kneeling between his legs, I cleaned it all away, exploring the peaks and valleys of his muscles as I went.

  “You’re so sexy,” he said when I pulled the top of his boxers down, encouraging him to continue. He did, circling the fruit around the head and down the thick vein under the shaft.

  It tasted even better there.

  It was delicious.

  He was delicious.

  Wicked. Sexual.

  Right.

  He groaned and tossed the strawberry onto the table as I took him into my mouth. His hands went into my hair as I circled around the glans before dipping my tongue into the groove of the frenulum and along the coronal ridge, causing him to shudder.

  I’d never been with anyone of his size before, and it felt powerful to have him at my command, hissing air through his teeth as I ran my tongue along the thick shaft.

  “You have a wonderful tongue,” he said, gritting the words from between his teeth.

  I dipped it into the urethral opening before closing my mouth around the entire head. “You have a wonderful penis.”

  He laughed, a sharp bark of sound, and his fingers tightened in my hair, almost making me wince. “I hope it lives up to your expectations.”

  I kissed the tip again. “You exceed them, sir.” I wrapped both fists around the base, leaving a couple inches for me to still play with. “Did you know that the average speed of ejaculation is twenty-eight miles per hour.”

  Another bark of laughter. “Is that so? Should I maybe get you a pair of safety glasses?”

  I grinned, loving the banter, even in this most intimate moment. “The male orgasm lasts an average of six seconds while females, because we’re better in every way, average twenty-three.”

  Another deep chuckle, the fingers massaging my scalp now. “And because you’re better in every way, you get to have twenty-three-second-long ones multiple times.”

  I looked up at him. Licked. Watched his nostrils flare as he inhaled a deep breath. “Tonight is the first time that’s happened for me.”

  His eyes narrowed, his head tipping to one side. “Are you just saying that in hopes that I’ll give you more?”

  I gave an exaggerated eye roll with an equally exaggerated scoff. “Well, of course I was hoping for that result, but I… told the truth.” My eyes fell to his abs, unable to meet his as I made a confession. “I thought I was broken. An ex called me a cold fish once.” I met his gaze again. “Thank you for coming along and proving to me otherwise.”

  How was it possible that we were having such a deep conversation with his dick in my hand? But it didn’t feel strange. It was oddly comfortable. Maybe because I had the freedom of knowing I’d never see him again.

  “You are the very opposite of a cold fish.” He wrapped his hands around my upper arms and pulled me up until I was straddling him again. He kissed me hard, tongue spearing into my mouth, passion combusting between us. Pushing the shirt off my shoulders and down my arms before tossing it onto a chair, he then broke the kiss to fumble in the pocket of his robe. He pulled out a condom.

  I raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you a good Boy Scout?”

  He ripped it open with his teeth. “Being prepared is a very sound motto.”

  I watched him roll it on, never realizing how sexy it was to witness a man doing so, then he had me by my hips, lifting me until I hovered just over him.

  “I like how strong you are,” I said as his cock began to spear into me, my hands clutching his broad shoulders.

  “I like how wet you are.” He sank me onto him slowly, my body consuming his an inch at a time. “How your body accepts me so easily. How your muscles clamp down when you come.”

  When I was fully seated, he kissed me again, and there was no more talking. Only feeling. Only breath. Only lips. Only touch.

  We rocked together, taking our time. There was no urgency in this connection as my body absorbed his over and over. In and out. Tongues and teeth. Fingers grasping and pulling. Holding on for dear life.

  And kissing. Oh god, the kissing.

  When I came, his eyes never left my face. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmured before gritting his teeth, fighting his own body’s reaction.

  It was no use.

  He brought me down hard on his cock. Once. Twice. His roar sent goosebumps across my skin as he exploded inside of me. I cupped his face with my hands, trying to sear this moment into my memory for all time.

  Soon, he would go, and I would miss him.

  Which was so incredibly strange. How could you miss someone you barely knew? How could you mourn them leaving your life when they’d been in it for such a short time?

  As our
panting breaths calmed, our bodies still connected, my face in his neck, his arms wrapped around me tight… one single tear escaped before I shut them off and closed my eyes.

  “Thank you for giving me this memory,” I said, pressing my lips to his skin.

  His arms tightened even more, his breath warm in my hair. “Thank you.”

  And in that chair with my fantasy man still inside me, I fell asleep in his arms.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Langston

  I held her like that for the longest time, pulling my robe over her naked body as she slept, my thoughts like a tornado in my head.

  I was leaving tomorrow. I glanced at the clock. No, I was leaving in an hour. I’d signed a commitment for six months. Sure, before tonight, I’d felt certain I would recommit and be there for an entire year if not longer. But that wasn’t set in stone. Now, over the course of a few hours I was rethinking my plan because of a wild-haired redhead I met in a bar and had slept with within an hour of saying hello.

  She sighed, and I held her closer, pressing my lips into her sweet smelling hair.

  The way we met sounded sordid. In reality, it wasn’t sordid at all. It was… exactly right, though I doubted many people would think so, not that I gave two shits about other people’s opinions.

  She would.

  She wasn’t like the other women I’d met. I had no proof of that, but I knew it was true.

  I didn’t believe in instant love, but I absolutely believed in instant attraction, and my internal radar had locked onto her like a hawk would lock onto a rabbit racing across a field. And I had devoured her as voraciously as a predator would its prey.

  And she’d devoured me too.

  She appeared to be surprised by our connection. Delilah, the man slayer. Samantha, the witch. A total stranger wrapped in a mystery that had seemed fun and playful only hours ago. I had let her know up-front that I wasn’t available for more than one night. I’d seen the understanding in her eyes. I’d seen how attracted to me she was. I’d seen and understood how keeping me as a stranger would help her wake up with less regret.

  But, now, I deeply regretted not insisting on a formal introduction.