“Stay.” Goosebumps roar up my legs, covering every inch of my skin as his hands stroke my skin. All I know is I want him to stay.
He opens my legs, kneeling between them. “I want to see everything.”
“So do I.” The words surprise both of us, but I press on. “I want to see you too, I mean.”
He reaches over his head and grabs the back of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it in the same vague direction as my jeans.
But who the hell cares about fabric when a tattooed God is between my thighs.
I’ve never seen muscles like this outside of statues and a few movies with Hollywood celebrities Alex made me watch. My ex was a bassoon player, studious and wiry. Bassoon players aren’t renowned for their chiseled biceps and pecs and abs.
Dylan’s got an eight pack. I thought they only came in six and I’ve never seen a set of six up close either.
His torso is surprisingly hairless. Does he shave or wax?
What really makes me squirm with interest are the tattoos covering his skin. Bold, abstract sheet music crawls all the way up his right arm and shoulder in black and red, ending with a feathered quill on his chest, as though being written or carved into him. Some fancy writing I can’t quite read from this angle with curlicues for decoration wraps around his ribs and down his hip. His left forearm is taken up with faces, the largest, a portrait of a pretty woman with dark hair and eyes. The flowers and vines surrounding her face reach and twine around his bicep and up his left shoulder, transforming into notes and stars.
And then I see it. The word Trust stands starkly in black, all alone on the left side of his ribs slightly below his heart. I reach up and trace it with my callused fingertips. It’s like a message to give in and do this and it’s all okay.
He grabs my wrist and brings my hand to his mouth, kissing my palm, nipping my finger with a wicked grin. “What does my bad girl want now?”
“I want to see more of you.”
He slides off the bed and stands. “Then take off my pants.”
Before self-consciousness can catch up, I sit up, throwing my legs over the edge of the bed, and comply, all too aware of his body heat, of the scent of him. Musky and citrusy, and something else that makes my mouth water and my fingers clumsy in their haste to get his jeans off.
His erection makes the front of his bright red boxers tent out toward me.
“I can’t decide if I want your hair loose and wild”—he reaches behind me and winds my hair around his hand and pulls—“or if I should take you from behind using this ponytail to guide you on my cock.”
My shocked inhalation leaves me in a moan. No one’s ever spoken to me like this before. I love it. If I wasn’t wet before, that’s done it.
He unwinds my scarf, lifting it over my head. “Are you ready for me? Are those pretty pink cotton panties soaking wet?”
“Yes.”
“Let me see.”
It’s too much, I’m not this bold! He’s going to know how inexperienced I am and he’ll laugh and leave. I press my thighs together, and he slowly shakes his head. “Let me see,” he whispers.
That tone of voice melts my bones and I spread my knees. He moves forward again, standing in between them and moves my hands to the waistband of his underwear. His skin is smooth and warm on the backs of my fingers and I slide the boxers down over his large penis.
Not penis.
Cock. Long, thick cock.
I lick my lips and bend, tentatively licking the bottom of the head.
“Good girl.” He slides the elastic from my hair and grabs a handful, but leaves enough slack for me to stay in control. I ease the large tip past my lips, careful not to drag my teeth, circling my tongue across the bottom of the shaft slowly at first, but faster when he moans.
God, he’s big. Can I fit the whole thing in my mouth? I take him deeper and release him to the point where only the head is in my mouth before sliding down again.
Heat turns to throbbing between my legs and I suck him deeper until I almost gag, so I pull back a bit and try again. And again.
“Christ, Rachel.” His fingers tighten in my hair and I want to smile but my lips are busy. “Look at me, baby.” His hips pump in time with my movements, fucking my mouth. His face is flushed, brow furrowed, but his eyes could melt my panties right off my body. I’d be scared of someone wanting me this much—if I wasn’t faint with need for him as well. And I’m the one making him feel this. I give the hole at his tip a little swirl with my tongue, tasting his saltiness, before slowly releasing him.
He reaches around and undoes my bra with one hand, tossing it away with the other before spreading his hand over my chest and pressing me until my back hits the mattress.
“You’re so gorgeous.” His fingers burn up my sides on their way to my breasts.
Alex’s words float through my mind. “You want to corrupt the good girl?”
“No.” He nibbles my collarbone and licks his way to my nipple. I arch beneath him, desperately wanting him to suck it, suck both of them into that hot mouth and devour me whole.
“No?” I gasp when he takes one and rasps his tongue across the tip before sucking hard, rolling it in his mouth sending sharp stabs of pleasure from my nipple to my clit.
“I don’t want to corrupt you, Rachel. I just want to fuck you for a few hours.”
A few hours? All the tension leaves my body at once, melting me to the bed.
His weight presses me into an even bigger puddle of want, but then his lips claim mine with the confidence of someone who knows exactly what he’s doing, and every muscle in me tenses at once. I wrap my arms and legs around him, pulling him tighter to me.
His teeth close on my tongue, the pain shocking my eyes open, and he lets me pull it from his mouth but I’m forced to drag it between his teeth to get free.
But when I get free, I want it again.
“Bite me, bad girl.”
Tentatively, I nip his lip and he grins. I want it again, want him to bite me, so I thrust my tongue in his mouth, forcing the kiss deeper with my hand on the back of his neck. He presses his cock against my clit through my panties. When I gasp, he drags his teeth down my tongue again.
My heart stutters in my chest and thunders when he releases my tongue. It’s like an adrenaline rush more than straight pleasure, but the combination makes me frantically grind my hips against him. My skin’s on fire with a need I’ve never felt before.
He chuckles. “What’s your hurry?”
“I want you. Now.” I nibble his earlobe, proud of how shamelessly I can say that to him.
He pulls back and kisses his way down my chest. My belly quivers beneath his lips when he gets there. “I’ll fuck you when I’m ready.” He grips my panties in his teeth and drags them down my legs.
I might combust.
But Dylan takes his time.
My calves tighten then relax in his palms when he starts kissing his way back up my legs. “See, we hardly know each other. I need to know what sounds you make when I kiss you here”—he presses his lips against the delicate crease where my inner thigh meets my body, and my breath rushes from my lungs—“or what your spine does when I lick you here.” His tongue wanders up one side of my slit and down the other.
It arches. My spine arches and my eyes slam shut when he licks me there.
My hands turn to fists when he sucks my labia into his mouth.
My toes curl when he releases them and flicks his tongue back and forth across my clit in fast, teasing licks before locking his mouth around it and working me into a quivering, gibbering mess with his lips and tongue.
I don’t know how long he keeps me teetering on the brink like that. It feels like forever. I can’t take any more, and move to sit up, weakly flapping my hands at his shoulders to push him away.
He growls, and slaps my hands away. “I’m not finished. Your pussy is so fucking sweet, I want you to come on my tongue.”
That’s way raunchier than I’m
used to, but when he starts humming in time to the fingers he plunges inside me and curls against a spot I’ve only ever found while alone with my vibrator, I shatter, unraveling beneath him in gasps pulsing to the rhythm of the white-hot pleasure he’s creating with his hands and mouth and my body.
He fucking played my body like a song.
“Now, Rachel. Now you’re ready to be fucked.”
Eyes still closed, I nod and spread my legs wider, pliant, his. “Yes, please.”
He settles beside me. “Oh, no. You’re so goddamn sexy right now, all relaxed and pink with contentment. I want to watch you fuck me.”
“What?” I’ve only been on top once, and that was in a very dark room when I’d had too much merlot. Any buzz I have left in me is from pleasure, the wine long since burned off with adrenaline. Discomfort slinks into my post-orgasmic haze, but the sight of him stretched out next to me with that thick cock reaching for the ceiling kills it.
I want that inside me. Now.
He grins and puts on a condom before holding out his hands. “Come here.”
Coming hard makes you surprisingly weak, I discover when I get to my knees and crawl the short distance to him on shaky legs, taking his hands and accepting his help maneuvering into place on top of him, knees bracketing his hips. Being spread open like this in full light would normally make me want to dive for the blanket, but Dylan never looks away from my eyes.
Instead of awkward, I feel incredibly sexy and in charge. I’m up here naked and exposed, flaws and all, but he can’t tear his eyes off me. I still don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m going to give it my all. I want this mysterious, sexy man to remember me.
I reach for his cock and position it at my pussy, running it up and down my wetness a few times, loving the way his eyes half-close and his hips buck.
His hands move to my breasts as I sink down on his shaft, working my hips to impale myself as it stretches me from inside in a delicious way that tightens my nipples beneath his palms.
He feels so good. I need this. I need this memory of this man on this night to last me through the boring, responsible times ahead.
No regrets.
Uncertain at first, I experiment with my motions, rocking up and down until I find the motion that feels the best and makes us both moan. His hands slide down to grip my hips and guide me in an undulating pattern that rubs his tip against a place so deep inside me it almost hurts.
Something else I never tried but always wanted to? Talking a little dirty. I rake my nails down his chest and move a little faster. “You feel amazing inside me.” I feel like an idiot, but keep going. “So hard, and thick. How does that feel for you?” That sounded terribly stiff, but he bites his lip and digs his fingers into my flesh.
“So fucking good. Mmm you’re so tight, and warm, and wet.”
Wow. “What else?”
“Your pussy’s grabbing my cock like it doesn’t want to let go. Turn around, I want to see that tight ass.”
This is new. I stop and swivel around, feeling less awkward when he’s back inside me rubbing new places. Not being able to see his face makes this feel more detached, like I’m using his body for my own pleasure.
His hands stroke my back. “Lean forward and work that amazing ass.”
I do as he says and swivel my hips, hoping the show he sees is as good as he feels, losing myself in the rhythm for a few minutes. God, he’s bigger than my vibrator.
“Christ that’s hot. You’ve got the most adorable dimples on your lower back.” I look at him over my shoulder. He groans. “I can’t, I need to fuck you. Get up on your knees.”
His hand slaps my ass and I yelp in surprise—and maybe delight—and get off him. My pussy throbs in protest at the sudden emptiness, but he yanks me to the edge of the bed on my knees, stands, and shoves himself back inside so hard I cry out and brace my arms to push back against him because this is good.
Dylan starts pounding into me so hard that each thrusts makes a loud slap of skin on skin and yes, yes, yes. His balls slap against my clit and I spread wider, pleasure uncoiling in my lower belly at how fucking good that feels too. He reaches around me, seizing one of my breasts, pinching my nipple. My pussy tightens around him even as I get wetter.
Who knew I like it rough?
He fucks me until my hips ache and I collapse on the bed, not wanting him to stop. Dylan grabs my hair and firmly pulls, gripping my hip with his other hand, steadily increasing pressure until I rear up pressing my back to his front and he takes both of my breasts. “Rub your clit for me, baby. My hands are full.”
My hands can’t obey fast enough, fingers frantically circling while he pounds into me from behind, kneading my breasts and stimulating my nipples.
It’s too much.
It’s perfect.
I come viciously with a silent scream, unable to even exhale beneath the onslaught of sensations. Wave after wave crashes through me, and I shake with the intensity of it. Dylan’s teeth graze my neck and he shudders inside me a moment later, dragging himself slowly in and out, milking the moment for all it’s worth. Pulling me close, still buried inside me, he curls around my body, nuzzling my neck as our breathing evens out.
CHAPTER FOUR
I can’t believe I did it.
I had sex—amazing sex—with a stranger.
My muscles have never been this languid, and yet I’m energized. Parts of me are sore, decadently aching, and yet I could go again. I trace my slightly tender lips. How did he get me to do all those things? I laugh silently, once. Like an orgasm fueled wind-up doll, he turned and turned me on and that was it, my mind was gone, worries were gone, all that was left was my body.
A body he made feel—
“That was amazing.” His husky voice breaks the silence.
I’m glad my goofy grin is safely out of his line of vision with him behind me. “Mmm, it was.”
He pulls out of me, making my hips twitch from the unexpected but pleasant sensation. He sits up and kisses my shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
I wait until he grabs his boxers and is outside the door before snatching up my bra and the cutest t-shirt that hasn’t been packed yet, and rooting around for a pair of shorts, trying to move quickly to outrun any thoughts of regret or responsibility on my way through my apartment.
I get to the bathroom as he’s exiting, and duck under his arm. “My turn!” I firmly close the door and lean against it for a second, knowing it was probably rude, but unable to stop myself. I need a minute to myself to calm my racing heart.
What’s he going to be like now that we’ve...been together? Stop overthinking it, Rachel. It’s a one-night stand. The less time we spend together, the better. There’s less chance of complications that way. Besides, he’s a stranger. Who cares what he thinks?
My eyes are wild in the mirror, shining like they’re lit from within. My skin’s flushed and rosy, but it makes me look like I’m gently glowing instead of blotchy and red, lips sensually puffy from his kisses. The only disaster is my hair, heading towards rat’s nest chic, so I wet my hands and finger-comb it.
What a way to get a makeover.
After peeing, I head back out. Time to face the music.
But he’s not in the bedroom.
“What’s this?” I gesture at the sheet he’s spread out on the living room floor and covered with a few dishes.
“Hey.” He grins at me, looking way too good in only his boxers. “Carpet picnic.”
“I haven’t got much in the way of food.”
“You’re telling me.” He kneels on one edge of the sheet. “Luckily, I’m king of impromptu snacking. Have a seat.”
“There was no point going grocery shopping when I’ll be throwing things out in a couple days. I’ve been trying to use up what’s left.” I sit cross-legged opposite him on the sheet, and accept the plate he hands me. “So, what’s this?”
“Peanut butter and olive cracker sandwiches.”
“Uh.” I poke at it. �
�Do I get a pass?”
“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.” His voice lowers an octave and he holds a tiny sandwich to my lips. “Open.”
Oh, boy, I learned that lesson tonight. I part my lips to let him feed me. Salty, silky, tanginess erupts across my tongue. The cracker gives it a crunch that takes the edge off what would be an off-putting texture.
He winks and snaps into one himself.
I lick my lips. “It shouldn’t work, but it does.”
“I know. You weren’t kidding about the boxes.” He nods at the apartment, pretty much devoid of everything except cardboard columns. “When do you move, again?”
“Monday, but the movers come Sunday to get everything. I’ll probably spend the night in a hotel by the airport.”
“You don’t seem that jazzed about it.”
“Moving universally sucks.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “But you’re moving to your dream job. I’d have thought you’d be a little perkier.”
“It’s not my dream job.”
“So why do it?”
I slowly savor another cracker sandwich to stall for time. Talking about my new, refined life with the stranger I just slept with is surreal. Then again, he’s safer because he has no idea who anyone in the situation is, and he has no emotional stake in it—unlike Alex or my father. If I dared, I could tell him everything. Instead, I stick with my stock answer. “Even though it’s going to sort of limit my life, it’s an opportunity I can’t pass up.”
“I hear that. You don’t seem like the type of person who does anything she doesn’t want to do, though.”
Mirth pulls at my lips. “That’s a pretty accurate assessment.” I wash my bite down with a glass of cran-grape juice that’s suddenly sweeter and fizzy, and throw him a questioning glance.
“Snack voodoo. I mixed a can of sprite with the juice to give it a little personality.”
“Are you a chef?”
“Nope.” He seems amused at my guess.
“Interesting. How did you—” I pop another cracker sandwich in my mouth, embarrassed at my gaff.
“How did I what?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.” If he’s good at scrounging things up, that means he’s either less fortunate now or grew up that way, and asking about something like that might embarrass him.
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