Kiss a Stranger

by R. J. Lewis

  “No,” I answered.

  His deft hands slid up my legs, slowly feeling every inch of my skin on their ascent. He pulled away from me, and I could only just see his face in the darkness as he stared hard at me, searching for some kind of answer I wasn’t sure I was giving.

  He spread my legs, trapping one against the passenger door.

  “What do you want?” he said inaudibly.

  “For you to touch me,” I told him. I shook before him, that need of mine so high I could hardly contain it.

  He grazed his fingers along my inner thigh and slowly circled around my core, bordering it, but never touching it. I moaned in frustration.

  “Touch me there,” I told him.

  “What’s ‘there’?” he asked, a wicked smile forming.

  I felt vulnerable with one leg pressed against the door, wide open for him. He was so calm and in control, and I was pretty certain I was the culprit steaming up the windows with my raggedy breaths.

  “You know where,” I said to him.

  “No, I think you need to be specific. What do you want me to touch?”

  My cheeks flushed as I whispered, “My pussy.”

  He must have felt victorious. The smile on his face screamed it, and I might have been bothered by his ego in a different situation, but I was too horny to mind.

  Ben’s fingers grazed me where I needed him the most, and though the sensation was brief and light as a feather, it was enough to stroke my need. I moaned and shut my eyes, wishing he’d do it again.

  “What do you want?” he asked me intensely.

  “I want you to make me feel good,” I breathlessly answered.

  He let go of my leg, but I kept it in place. I didn’t know how it was possible given the cold temperature, but he was so warm against my freezing flesh, and the contrast was mind blowing. His finger edged around my entrance where he rubbed my wetness through my folds and around my clit, giving me more unimaginably good strokes. Then he eased his finger inside of me, and my head dropped back, hitting the window as I faced the ceiling of the car.

  He moved in and out, his thumb working over my clit every time he retreated. He pushed in as far as his finger would take him and then skimmed my walls as he edged back out again, making me quiver and moan brazenly. I didn’t care how loud I was. I was so caught up in his movements, in the way he was making me feel – all I could do was feel.

  He pulled out of me entirely. “Open your mouth,” he ordered.

  I parted my lips and he pushed his finger right in. “Now suck,” he said in a harder voice. “Suck every lost drop.”

  Holy fuck.

  I closed my mouth around his finger and sucked on it. At the same time, I heard him shuffle around in his seat, but I was too caught up to bother opening my eyes. I felt heat nearing my core again, and when the feeling of wetness brushed my folds, I jumped in my seat and opened my eyes.

  His upper body was folded over, his head in between my legs, his mouth lapping at my folds with that experienced tongue that seemed to hit all the right spots. His hand dropped from my face and he used it to keep me still. I wormed my fingers into his hair, tugging on it harshly as he continued to taste me.

  “Oh, my God,” I moaned, sagging further back against the door, uncaring about the discomfort. “Please, don’t stop.”

  I grinded myself against his mouth, shaking in delight as he sucked and teased. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  “Please,” I continued, unable to stop the words from tumbling out. “Don’t stop.”

  But he did!

  Un-fucking-believable!

  “What? Why…?” I was lost for words.

  He settled back into the seat beside me and worked on unbuckling his belt. “Because you’re going to come with me,” he said. “Now come here.”

  I moved to him and he gripped me around the waist and helped me climb into his lap, legs parted on either side of him. He balled my wet hair and into his fist and brought me down to his mouth, kissing me as he pulled my dress up until it was sitting around my waist.

  He pushed my panties aside and rubbed the head of his cock against me. His hands gripped my hips and he squeezed them tightly and lowered me over him. My walls immediately hugged all of his thickness. I took him as far inside of me I could and we stilled when he reached the end of me.

  We didn’t move for a long moment. I looked down at him, into his beautiful grey eyes. I was seeking a connection. I didn’t want to bounce my way into physical release. I needed to connect with him, the way I did the first time he took me. That had been the greatest release of all, seeing the ecstasy in his eyes, watching him lose himself in me.

  He was still drenched from the rain. He should have been cold. He should have been uncomfortable to be flushed up against. But he was perfect. Everything about this moment was perfect.

  “Are you aware of how beautiful you are to me?” he whispered.

  My heart accelerated. “I’m starting to get the gist.”

  His hand roamed me quickly, squeezing a breast before trailing his fingers along my collar bone. “Everything about you feels right.”

  My throat was too thick for words, so I dipped my head and kissed him.

  “Use me,” he urged. “Think of yourself first, and just use me.”

  I gripped him tightly and began to move. We groaned together, moulding into one. Wave after wave of euphoria. Thrust after thrust of taking him in as deep as he could go. Our breaths were frantic. Our chests moved rapidly. And I kissed him with all that I had in me.

  Take all of me, my body said. I’m all yours.

  I grabbed fistfuls of his hair and angled his head up to me as I moved faster. His hands dug into my hips painfully, meeting me thrust for thrust.

  “Fuck,” he growled, hungrily moving at a pace I couldn’t keep up with. “Fucking perfect, Claire. You feel… fuck, you feel good.”

  He gripped my hair as hard as I gripped his and lowered his mouth against my throat. He licked my skin ravenously, sucking and biting enough for me to hiss and flinch. I knew he liked it rough. The more he teetered to the edge, the more riled up he got, and it was the hottest thing I’d ever felt. It made me lose myself with him.

  “Oh, God,” I breathed. “I’m so close.”

  “I love the fucking sounds you make while you’re riding my cock,” he ground out. “Don’t stop, beauty. Keep fucking me.”

  He slammed harder into me, and the lost vulnerable look on his face when he was in pleasure tipped me over the edge. I gasped and stilled, clutching him to me with every ounce of my strength. He continued to pound into me, wrapping me in his arms, until I was crushed against him. My bones ached, my breath was knocked right out of my lungs as he hammered into me and finally let himself go, letting out what sounded like a groan and growl all at once.

  I went limp, and he continued to embrace me, much more delicately this time. He stroked my hair as the side of my head pressed against his chest, listening to his speedy heartbeats. I felt drowsy, and I didn’t want to move. I didn’t think I’d ever want to move.

  “You,” he whispered in between each pant, “are positively addictive.”

  “Likewise,” I whispered back.

  “No. No, you’re mind blowing. So fucking exquisite to look at while you rode me. You wanted your pleasure and you took it from me, and it was beyond hot watching your face get there. Fuck.”

  My chest squeezed. It was one thing having sex with someone. It was another recapping it with them.

  We caught out breaths, letting time pass by slowly as we enjoyed the feel of our bodies still pressed against one another.

  “Need to get a little cleaned up before the driver comes back,” he murmured into my ear before kissing it.

  Dazed, I lifted myself and he pulled out of me. I settled down next to him, and he quickly zipped his pants up and fixed his belt. I ran a hand through my hair and pulled my dress down. I adjusted my panties, cringing a little with both horror and pleasure when his cum slid out of me.
It felt oddly good to be marked, like I was carrying a piece of him inside of me. And – well duh – I kinda was, but I meant it more on an emotional level.

  God, how sappy was I?

  “You look shattered,” he remarked playfully, looking like a sex god with his just-fucked look.

  “After that, can you blame me?” I smiled.

  “No. We’ll get you home in my bed in no time, okay?”

  I paused and then shrugged. “You can take me to my house, if you want. You don’t have to put up with me in your place just so I can sleep in your bed after what we just did.”

  He considered my words for a moment with a frown. “Is it only about sex with you?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Do you think it’s just about sex for me, then?”

  I looked away from him and wiped away a piece of imaginary fluff on my dress. “Um, I don’t know. Is it?”

  “No,” he said, a note of frustration in his tone. “I thought I made that clear at the restaurant.”

  I gave him an apologetic look. “Ben, it’s nothing to do with you. I’m just… not used to this, okay?”

  “What’s ‘this’, Claire?”

  “You know, seeing someone. I’ve never done this before, and all I’m drawing on is past experiences.”

  He took my hand and kissed it softly. “I know a good thing when I see it. I see it in you. So this is more than sex for me. Is that good enough reassurance for you, little lady?”

  I smiled heartily and nodded. “Yes.” Yes, it was indeed.

  He smiled back. “Good. Now let’s go home.”

  Chapter Twelve

  You’re beautiful

  Ben was a contradiction. He dressed nicely, he took me to a really expensive restaurant, but he also apparently didn’t have a car, and his phone looked like a brick from a century ago.

  I’d been on the fence about how wealthy he was, up until the moment the taxi driver pulled up in front of a luxury building just minutes from the city. In the elevator on the way up, I stared at my reflection in the mirrored walls and winced at my bedraggled look. Rain and sex had not been kind to me.

  The hallway we stepped into had only two doors. We went to one and he unlocked it, kicking it open and taking my hand to steer me in. The entrance foyer of his apartment was huge, backing onto a modern lounge area.

  I gaped in awe.

  A penthouse. Ben owned an enormous penthouse. Well, shit. The man is loaded after all.

  In the darkness, I caught the sight of large floor to ceiling windows in the lounge room. He led me past a stone counter kitchen and up a staircase to the second level.

  “Not really much to see,” he told me when he caught me looking around interestedly. “I have a guest bedroom up here and my office. Downstairs is basic. Right now let’s just go to bed, and you can go exploring in the morning.”

  He took me to the last door. It was the master bedroom, and it was definitely his given that his smell lingered in the air. He left me standing by the bed as he opened his walk-in closet and sorted through some clothes. I rubbed the goose bumps along my arms away, feeling the chill in the air while I waited on him.

  He stood before me moments later with a shirt in his hand. “Strip,” he told me.

  He’d seen all of me a couple times already and yet I still felt nervous when I let the dress drop to the floor.

  “And the bra.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

  I took that off too. He then fitted the opening of the t-shirt over my head and I put my arms through the sleeves. I felt like a kid being dressed, but it also felt like an act of affection from him.

  He threw his own clothes off as I moved onto the large king sized bed and pulled the covers back. He crawled in after me and pressed himself against me, giving me all his body heat as he pulled the covers over top of us. I was on my side, facing him, and while I was tired, I was incredibly aware of my surroundings. This was going to take some adjusting to.

  His hand trailed up and down my spine. He kissed me softly as that hand slid up and cupped the bad side of my face to him.

  “So beautiful,” he whispered to me.

  “You don’t have to keep saying that,” I whispered back.

  “Why? Am I boring you?”

  “No.”

  “Does it bother you that I find you so beautiful?”

  I shook my head. “No, not really.”

  “Not really? Explain. I want you to open up to me.”

  I sighed, looking down at his chin to avoid looking into his eyes. “I’m not what I once was. Don’t pretend it’s not there, and please don’t feed me the bullshit of it doesn’t look bad. It does, and I know you can see it, and you see it every time I look at you. So… don’t keep telling me I’m beautiful as a way to boost my confidence, or whatever it is you’re hoping to achieve.”

  He surprised me by chuckling, and I scowled at him. “What’s so funny?”

  He shook his head. “Bloody hell, Claire. Are you so self-conscious you think the world revolves around your bloody scars? Of course they’re there. Of course I see them. Of course you look different than you did when I met you on that train. But I’d never feed you bullshit just to make you happy. I say what’s on my mind. I say what’s in my heart. I don’t lie, and I certainly don’t pity you – and even if I did, I wouldn’t have some kind of agenda to make you feel better about them. I know whatever happened to you wasn’t deserved, so I’m not going to pester you to tell me either.”

  To say his words knocked me back a step was the biggest understatement of the century. Maybe a part of me expected him to deny telling me I was beautiful to make me feel better, but I certainly didn’t word it in my head the way he just did.

  Ben Costigan was blunt and brutally honest.

  I loved that.

  “Well,” I said, “now that we’re talking about it, just so you know, I did deserve what happened to me.”

  I went rigid when his thumb stroked the harsh lines. “I find that incredibly unbelievable,” he replied solemnly. “Whatever happened here would have been very painful, and I can’t for a second believe you’d ever deserve that.”

  “Maybe I attacked someone first and this was their retaliation.”

  “No, I’m positive that didn’t happen.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes, I do. You didn’t deserve it.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Then tell me what happened so I can be the judge of that.” He then quickly added, “If you’re comfortable to, of course.”

  I wasn’t uncomfortable talking about it. I often found a way to detach when I had to explain it – which hadn’t been often. Most people looked like they were walking on eggshells around me, as if asking me would somehow make me crumble into a million pieces.

  But telling it to Ben was different. I was very hesitant.

  “It might change how you think of me,” I warned him. “And that’s the only thing that makes me uncomfortable.”

  He kissed me again. “It won’t. I promise.”

  “You can’t promise something you don’t know about.”

  “I can and I just did. I’m a man of my word, remember?”

  This time I did look into his eyes. I searched them, and all I saw staring back at me was his genuine honesty.

  Okay, Claire. Just tell him. Don’t ramble on either. Cut to the chase. The sooner it’s out, the faster you can put it behind you.

  “I won’t say I was drunk and stupid,” I started quietly, “because that would be a coward’s explanation. Truth is I knew exactly what I was doing. I seduced a taken man at a bar, feet away from his girlfriend. He was very attractive, and I was very shallow. It didn’t bother me that he was taken because I felt like his girlfriend was inferior to me, and that he deserved the best.”

  I paused for a moment, expecting some kind of reaction from Ben. But he just stared at me, patiently waiting.

  I continued. “When she was preoccupied with her friend
s, I slipped a note into his pocket, telling him to meet me in the alleyway. I waited not even a minute before he showed up. There was something exciting about trying not to get caught. Like he was so desperate, he was risking it all just to have me. It was naïve thinking at the time, but it made me feel alive. He took me against the wall, and I remember feeling his warmth against me. We’d only made out before the world started spinning and the sounds of screams broke through the haze.

  “I knew immediately that we’d been caught, and I felt this horrible ache in my chest. I’d really thought we wouldn’t, and the reality was unlike anything I’d ever expected it to be. The man didn’t defend me, and it wasn’t like I expected it or anything, but I certainly didn’t think she’d put the entire blame on to me. He was pulled aside, forgotten, like a kid that would get scolded as an afterthought when all was said and done. Meanwhile, her and her friends turned to me, and I knew what was coming. They were going to beat on me. I took off running and barely made it out of the alleyway before my hair was yanked back. I fell to the ground and before anything started to make sense, this enormous sudden pain crashed into the side of my face. My whole head felt like it’d exploded, and I couldn’t hear or feel anything. I fell back, and they continued beating me. I passed out somewhere along the way.

  “I don’t know how long I stayed like that, but my thoughts returned to me before I even opened my eyes. I remembered everything as I started to stir awake. And when I remembered the pain, I instantly stopped moving. I was paralysed to the ground, scared that if they’d see me move, they’d continue hurting me. I was panicked. My stomach churned and my skin broke out in cold sweat. The pain on the side of my face felt like it had its own pulse, and it was going a million miles an hour.

  “It was only so long before my body couldn’t handle it anymore. I turned to my side and threw up, and when I opened my eyes, I realized I wasn’t in the alleyway. I was in a hospital. They told me I’d been glassed in the face. The girl and her friends did a lot of damage. Thirty stitches to the face, two broken ribs, a concussion, and a body full of scrapes and bruises.”

  So much for short and to the point.