by Sophia Renny
All true.
The harsh grooves at the corners of his mouth relaxed as he smiled tenderly down at her. “It’s all right, sugar.” His head swooped down, his mouth pressing warm, reassuring kisses to her forehead, her eyelashes, her cheeks, before nibbling at her parted lips. “I’ll try and take it slower,” he murmured between kisses. “You just feel so good. And…it’s been a long time for me, too.”
She sighed into his mouth. “Really?”
His chest rumbled with quiet laughter at the obvious incredulousness in her question. “Now you’re the one who’s assuming things. You think because I’m…handsome that I have a woman in my bed every night?”
Well, yes.
But he didn’t wait for her to respond. “No more talk of this. Relax, sugar. Here, put your arms around me.” He found her awkward hands and drew them up and around his shoulders. He settled more of his weight on her, bracing his upper body on his elbows now instead of his hands, so that his chest scraped deliciously over her swollen breasts. He moved his head, rubbing his cheek against hers, his scratchy breath close to her ear. Rekindled longing oozed through her veins like honey, gradually warming and relaxing her muscles and limbs. Her hands skated over his shoulders, down his sides to his hips and back up again. His skin was so smooth, so hot and slick to the touch. On the next excursion she paused at the indentation of his lower back, tentative fingers reaching for the alluring swell of his flexing buttocks.
“Oh, yeah, I like that,” he growled encouragingly. “Keep going.” His buttocks lifted and then surged forward as he pushed deeper still.
She gasped. He’d pressed against a mysterious place inside of her, shooting sparks of agonizing pleasure up her spine. Her fingernails dug into his buttocks.
“Ah, I think we’ve found your sweet spot. You like that?” He pulled back slightly before pushing against that special place again.
“Oh, oh,” she cried.
“Put your legs around me,” he demanded in a fevered murmur. “Now.”
She eagerly complied, wrapping her legs around his lower back and crossing her ankles. Her hips writhed under him, lifting and pushing, begging him to move faster, harder.
With a low groan that resonated from deep in his chest, he ploughed in to the hilt. “Damn. You feel so good. I’ve never—”
Whatever he was about to say, or chose not to say, was buried against her lips as he plunged his tongue deep into her mouth, his moans matching hers as he increased the pace of his pelvic thrusts, faster, faster.
She held on tight with legs and arms and greedy fingers, loving the wet push and pull of him inside of her, the full weight now of his body gliding on top of hers. He had his arms wrapped around her head. She felt surrounded by a cocoon of hot muscle and skin and breath. She was on the verge of a second orgasm, so close, so close.
He tore his mouth from hers. He spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m going to come. Are you there, sugar?”
And that was enough to set her off. “Yes. Yes.”
Light sparked and flashed behind her closed eyelids. Her entire body shuddered with her release and, at that most perfect place where their bodies connected, she convulsed with joy, inner muscles contracting around his erection, clasping him tight. She felt his penis grow even thicker, felt it pulsate as he gave three final, protracted thrusts.
She opened her eyes.
He had his back arched, arms straight and taut on either side of her head, fingers digging into the mattress. The tendons of his throat stood out in stark relief, his mouth slack in an extended groan, his face a portrait of exquisite agony. Sweat glistened on his face and chest.
He was so gorgeous.
With one final grunt of pleasure, he collapsed on top of her, his mouth buried against her throat.
She felt residual tremors of their mutual release as she smoothed her hands up his back. She loved the feeling of his complete surrender to her embrace, the way he relaxed into her, so trustingly. His penis was still rock hard inside of her. His hips nudged forward slightly, as if on their own accord, reluctant to pull away.
This was what she had dreamed about the most, this feeling of oneness, this surrender of oneself to another. The cliché was true. For a few rapturous moments, she’d felt like they were the only two people in the world. She pressed a lingering kiss to his temple.
He stirred. He gave one last, gentle thrust of his hips then reached between them to grab the base of the condom before drawing carefully out of her body. He kissed her cheek, a tender caress of gratitude, before sliding off of her. He rolled to the edge of the bed and stood. “I’ll be right back,” he murmured as he headed for the bathroom.
Still in the lush stupor of afterglow, she languidly watched his retreating figure, admiring the play of sleek back muscles, the sculpted buttocks, thighs and legs. After he stepped into the bathroom, she reached down to touch herself between her legs.
She was a virgin no more.
There was only a slight feeling of soreness inside. It was more a pleasurable burn, a tingling reminder of his fullness and hot possession. Her inner thigh muscles ached a little, unused to being stretched and pounded the way they’d been. She dipped her fingers into her vagina, feeling the still warm juices of her own arousal and orgasm. She wished she could have felt what sex was like with no artificial barriers between his body and hers. But, in spite of the condom, his erection had felt amazing. She imagined it would feel even more spectacular naked. Bare skin against bare skin, the hot gush of his ejaculation hitting her cervix…
She brought her other hand to her breasts, idly rubbing her nipples as she lost herself in her sweetly lurid imagining.
“Fuck, that’s hot.”
The lusty growl, coming from the foot of the bed, wrenched her out of her dreamlike state. She clenched her legs together and reached for a pillow, intent on hiding her body from his smoldering appraisal. She felt a crimson flush of embarrassment spread down from her ears to her throat and chest.
He grabbed the pillow and tossed it aside. “Don’t. Don’t hide from me. Not after what we just did.” He knelt down on the bed at her feet and ran his palms up the outside of her legs before pushing them between her clasped thighs to pry them gently but firmly apart. His eyes blazed with renewed craving as they journeyed up her body to her rosy face. “Don’t you know how absolutely stunning you are?” he asked softly, his tone a mixture of admiration and bafflement.
And it was at that moment, after two years of therapy, two years of learning how to like herself and her body, two years of parroting words of self-praise that now echoed hollowly in her memory, that she, at last, truly felt beautiful. He’d revealed the truth of it in every sweet caress, every sigh and groan and whisper. There was nothing false or self-serving in his praise. His touch spoke genuine veneration as he grazed his fingers over her thighs and hips, the soft swell of her stomach, her breasts, her throat. He cupped her face in his hands and pierced her with intense blue eyes.
“Tell me your real name.”
She swallowed, slanted her eyes away from his. “Please… No names.”
“Why?”
“I-I didn’t expect… I hadn’t… We won’t be seeing each other again.”
“Why not?”
She frowned at his harsh insistence even while her heart fluttered with unfamiliar hope. “I’m just traveling through. I don’t live here.”
“Neither do I. Where do you live?”
She reached up to place her palm against his face. “Will you leave if I don’t tell you?” She heard the throb of anxiety in her voice.
He was silent for a moment, eyes probing. Something of the disquiet in her expression was suddenly reflected in his own, along with something deeper still that he quickly concealed as he dropped his gaze, glancing away from her for a moment. He moved his hands from her face and slid them down to her shoulders. His eyes spoke nothing more than a fierce hunger when he returned his flashing gaze to hers. “All right, then. No names.” He gripped her
shoulders tighter. “Turn over.”
Her heartbeat kicked up several notches as he easily flipped her onto her stomach and straddled her legs. She glanced over her shoulder, catching a disconcerting bleakness in his expression that he was quick to conceal. “What are you doing?”
He stroked his palms over her upper back, the soothing touch belying the shadows that had briefly made him look grim and distant. “No more questions.”
“I—”
Two thumbs massaged the smooth nape of her neck, guiding her head down until her cheek rested against the pillow. “Shh. I’m not going to hurt you, sugar.” He replaced his thumbs with his mouth, kissing his way down her nape and up the side of her jaw before grazing her ear. He bit gently on the lobe before saying, “You’re right. We’re just strangers passing through this place. No more talking then. Let’s just enjoy this for what it is.”
She suddenly felt like crying.
She hadn’t anticipated this curious sense of connection with this man, this feeling of completeness, this mysterious yearning for more than just this one night, these few hours. She fought to tamp down the abrupt wild impulse to tell him everything, including her name. That had never been part of the plan.
He took the bobby pins out of her chignon, sifted his fingers through her unrestrained hair, spread it down her neck and over her shoulders. He pressed his face into it, inhaled, and then exhaled with a husky sigh of approval and desire. His palms grazed down her arms, finding her hands where they tightly clenched the pillow to her chest, drawing them out until her arms were spread on either side of her as if in supplication. He clasped her hands in his, meshed his long, supple fingers with hers for a few moments. His solid chest was against her back, hot skin pressing. She felt his penis against her buttocks, twitching, growing hard again.
She closed her eyes, mouth parted in a tiny gasp of longing.
He released her hands, bringing his own up her arms, returning them to her shoulders with a brief squeeze before skimming down her back. Thumbs brushed the outer swell of her breasts, the sides of her ribcage, a startling tickle instantly followed by a soothing rub of palms, palms that soon slid lower to curving hips. She felt the damp, warm sandpaper of his tongue on her nape and then the scrape of his teeth as he nipped her there lightly. His torso gradually slid down her body her as he kissed and licked and nibbled a leisurely journey along her spine to her lower back.
He ran his hands over her buttocks, rubbing her skin between nips and kisses. He was on his stomach now, between her legs, his broad shoulders relentlessly spreading her wide. There was no hesitation, no inkling of modesty or embarrassment in his touch as he dug his fingers into the crevice of her buttocks, his tongue following as he licked his way down that crevice to her anus, a few inquisitive licks at that puckered area before sliding down to the patch of skin lower down. God, she hadn’t known that that area was so sensitive!
She groaned and lifted her hips, arching up and into his mouth, urging him to continue licking and pushing with his tongue. He lingered for a few delirious moments, his own hungry groans muffled against her skin. When he finally slid his sleek, demanding tongue inside her vagina she nearly came off the bed. She buried her face in her pillow along with her moans of pure rapture.
She was not the same woman she’d been just one hour before. That woman could never have imagined such a joyous, unabashed surrender to this stranger’s decadent touch. She felt reborn, released from all the doubt and confusion that had weakened the bond of her mind and spirit with her own inherent femininity.
Her body expressed total acquiescence when he eventually lifted himself up to straddle her legs again. She was clay in his hands, allowing him to mold and position her as he pleased. Drifting on a cloud of bliss, she scarcely heard the snap of the condom as he prepared to take her a second time. Then he was pushing inside of her, his low grunts of pleasure enhancing his slow but insistent excursion into her wet passage.
He fell against her, chest heaving against her back, rock-hard arms bracketing her head, his harsh breaths fanning her hair as he rocked his hips forward and back. “So good,” he rasped. “So damn good.”
She writhed beneath him, striving for even closer contact, frenzied sounds of need bursting from her mouth. He felt so deep inside of her, deeper than the first time, this new position and angle touching and rubbing places she never knew existed within her own body.
He moved one arm under her stomach, his hand seeking and finding her clitoris. He rubbed and squeezed as he strove to push even deeper inside of her, pressing her hips into the mattress. His other hand cupped her face, angling her head to the side so he could cover her mouth with his. He plunged his tongue inside, wickedly mimicking the thrust of his hips. He tore his mouth away only long enough to catch his breath before capturing her mouth once again. She responded in kind, instinctively sucking his tongue deep inside her mouth as, down below, her inner walls clutched at him, urging him on.
He came unglued, his every motion and touch kicking into high gear. He slid his mouth away from hers only to suck and bite at the delicate place where her neck met her shoulder. His fingers continued to rub her wet, swollen clitoris, compelling her to climax. Through a dark fog of lust and pleasure filtered the knowledge that he was waiting for her, that he wanted them to come together.
Her whole being seemed to burst into glittering shards of color as she willingly obeyed his unspoken plea. Light and heat pulsed behind her closed eyes as her climax shattered inside and around her. All feeling was pinpointed on that place where he throbbed deep inside her, pulsating and shuddering in the throes of his own release. He was gasping and moaning into her ear as he collapsed on top of her. Her rapture came as a long wail, a decrescendo of sound that was uninhibited and profound.
The afterglow lasted longer this time, setting her adrift in a sea of sexual fulfillment. She was scarcely aware of him eventually moving off of her and out of bed. The loss of his body heat was, thankfully, only temporary, as she felt him return to her, drawing her onto her side to cuddle against him. The last thing she remembered before she floated into sleep was the touch of his hands, sure and possessive against her back as he held her close.
She came awake in the early morning hours to find herself draped over his body, her legs on either side of his as he rubbed his engorged shaft against her belly. His eyes were closed, his mouth slack, his face smooth and relaxed as if he were still asleep.
She gradually realized that he was still asleep, apparently lost in a lusty dream as his hands roved up and down her back. He whispered something unintelligible when he found her breasts, latching onto them and rubbing his thumbs over the extended nipples.
Sighing with pleasure, she sank into his touch, half amused by the look on his face. He was like the proverbial kid in the candy shop, given free rein to indulge as much as he wanted. She didn’t want to wake him just yet, enjoying his gleeful expression.
Suddenly, he was rolling her onto her back and coming over her, inserting his legs between hers. His eyes were still closed as he surged into her, filling her to the hilt with one determined thrust.
She winced a little, not yet fully aroused, sorer now from the second coupling. But it still felt good, so good, and different from the other times. Heat and dampness pooled and spread as she relaxed into his slow, unhurried rhythm, her arousal increasing as his chest rubbed against her breasts and his breath sounded strong and even against her ear.
For a long, pleasurable time, he rocked languidly into her. She wondered if he would ever wake up, missing the penetrating fire of his gaze. But when his pace quickened and he braced himself on his arms above her, his eyes were still shut, squeezed tightly together now as he groaned and heaved. She clasped his arms, on the verge of climax, when she suddenly felt his release, a gush of hot liquid bathing her womb.
Oh God. He wasn’t wearing a condom. Yet, even as her mind was trying to grasp that troublesome fact, she was enthralled by the feel of that virile heat inside
of her body, the intensity of that feeling instigating her own quiet orgasm.
All coherent thought was pushed aside as he fell against her, his cheek pressed to hers. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, keeping him close, holding on to him for as long as he would allow.
Coasting on the edge of sleep, she gradually became aware that something had changed. His arms had tightened around her. He must be awake. But his head was still pressed close to hers and he was shaking uncontrollably, his body convulsing with what she gradually, and with shocked dismay and concern, realized were silent, gut-wrenching sobs.
He was crying.
She brought one hand to his head, running her fingers soothingly through his hair. At a loss, she didn’t know what to say. She could only respond with a silent, tender touch to the dark, deep emotions that seemed to emanate from the very core of his being.
She felt his mouth against her neck, burying tear-soaked kisses there. He muttered something against her skin. She strained her ears to decipher the one word as he spoke it again.
“Rachel.
2
Six months later.
“Rob wants everyone to meet in the conference room in five minutes.”
Maggie glanced up from her computer screen. “Do you know what it’s about?”
Her colleague and fellow copywriter, Samantha, shrugged, already moving away from the entrance to Maggie’s cubical. “No clue. But he seemed pretty excited. I’ve got to round up the herd. See you in a few.”
Maggie rubbed her eyes, welcoming the break from writing fresh advertising copy for one of the agency’s longstanding clients, a Midwest steakhouse restaurant chain. Trying to come up with new and unusual words to describe a cut of filet mignon was making her feel a little queasy.
Grabbing her yellow legal pad and a pen, she made her way down the hall to the conference room. All of the employees at Pelham and Mason Advertising Agency were gathered there, including the receptionist. This was something major then.