Riding High

by Zara Stoneley

  It was late, and the motorway traffic on the way up had moved at the speed of a funeral dirge, which had cocked up his schedule completely. If it hadn’t, he’d have done what he came to do and been heading back to the safety of the city already. Instead he was stuck in the middle of nowhere, and he needed a room for the night. Which he should be asking her about.

  He’d checked out the stable yard that was the purpose for his long drive; it had been shrouded in dark, the type of black you only found in the depths of the countryside these days. And the countryside, it seemed, shut up shop when it went dark. So he’d headed for the nearest thing to civilization for the night. There was only one pub in the village, which was as deserted as the rest of the place. Apart from a girl with a body he wanted to touch, lips he wanted to kiss, and a voice that he wanted to hear talking dirty. He knew he shouldn’t, but he wanted her. Really wanted her. And her body was sending out the type of signal that said the feeling was mutual.

  It wasn’t just that she was sexy, though she was, very sexy in an understated, comfortable in her body type of way. It was the way she looked at him, the undercurrent of need as though she wanted him but hadn’t realized it yet. That alluring mix of innocence and sensuality was turning him on something rotten. That was how mermaids did it, wasn’t it? Lured men to their deaths? But all life had been offering him lately seemed to be blatant, and blatant had gotten boring.

  Saul took a deep swallow of the bitter, letting the malt envelop his taste buds; he traced a finger through the cool, damp condensation on the glass and wondered what she tasted like. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a one-night stand; he thought he’d grown out of those. And something told him that this girl didn’t do casual either. Normally. But tonight she needed him. Her body knew, even if her brain hadn’t caught up. And his had been short circuited; he didn’t even know her name yet.

  “I’m Saul, by the way. Saul Mathews.” He held out a hand. For a second, it looked like she was going to give him the brush-off, then she grasped it with slender, soft fingers that had a surprisingly firm touch, sending a zing straight to his crotch, a zing that must have registered in his eyes, because she bit on the full bottom lip that had been tantalizing him for what seemed a long time.

  “Roisin.” She smiled for the first time, and her small, serious face colored in a blush that he could imagine spreading down over her body. His cock started to twitch in response, way too early for comfort.

  “Nice name.” He didn’t let go of the fingers.

  “You can call me Rosie if you like, people find it easier.” She looked at him, with a mix of apology and challenge. And Saul did challenges, not apologies.

  “Easier maybe, but not as sexy, Roisin.” He rolled her name over on his tongue again, brushing her hand with his thumb, watching mesmerized as her nipples pebbled in response. “Fancy a walk in the fresh air when you’ve finished here?”

  “Sure.”

  ***

  The air was fresh all right, but it wasn’t exactly what Roisin fancied. She wanted him, right here, right now. Even though wanting was dangerous; something she’d managed to avoid most of her life. She could have blamed the feeling of light-headedness on the second glass of wine, or on the cool, fresh air. But it wasn’t either. It was need, want, the unexpected thrill of anticipation that was running through her. She’d never lived dangerously; her life had been satisfyingly organized and well run. She seemed to have skipped the “live life on the edge” bit. Until now, when she suddenly felt like she didn’t have anything left to lose. And she didn’t have to do anything for anyone else again. This was just for her. Having wild, uninhibited sex with a stranger had never been an item on her wish list, but suddenly it seemed to have shot to pole position. And she was fairly sure some fairy godmother was waving a wand about for all she was worth.

  “Cold?” He ran a finger over the shiver of goose bumps down her arms, and draped his jacket over her shoulders, pulling her closer toward a warm, firm body, sending a new shiver through her that had nothing to do with the cold.

  “Roisin.” The way he said her name, so deliberately, made her look up. The brown eyes locked on to hers, and then his head dropped closer and all she was aware of was his lips. Strong, firm lips that were gently parted. She turned fully, closed the slight gap he had left between them, the invitation that he was offering. The instant she did, his hands slipped under the jacket, fastened around her waist. A soft moan slipped from her as the warmth of his touch sent a new rush of dampness straight between her thighs. It was dark at the back of the pub, only the lights from a room on the first floor above casting a glimmer over him. It was even darker in the shadow of the wall he pushed her against.

  “How the hell’s a man supposed to resist you?” His words breathed against her mouth for the briefest moment, then his lips came down hard in a bruising kiss that made her gasp. As her lips parted automatically, his tongue skated over her teeth.

  He tasted of arousal, of lust, as his tongue explored farther into her mouth, playing with hers until her body started to respond, her hips shifting closer to him, each touch sending a new jangle of awareness through her. She reached up, moaning as she tangled her fingers in the soft hair that had been tempting her since she’d first seen him; held him close as he sucked on her tongue in a way that mingled pain and pleasure. One large hand cupped her bum, forcing her between his slightly parted thighs so she could feel his hard cock trapped between them.

  She rocked her hips, shifting and sliding against him, desperate to feel his heat against her slit. His deep groan in her mouth sent a new flood of juices between thighs that were already damp.

  She dimly heard a whimper, knew it must be her, as his hand scorched its way under her skirt, high up the inside of her trembling thigh, setting off an involuntary shudder as his long fingers edged under the lace of her panties. A gasp filled her throat as he brushed against oversensitized skin, and she wriggled her hips apart to help him ease farther in, moaning louder as he traced along her slit before slipping one finger deep inside her slickness. God, that was good; she’d stopped trying to kiss him, stopped trying to do anything except hang on to him as his finger explored her sopping cunt.

  “Shit, you’re so wet, so gorgeous…” He twisted his hand, rubbing against her engorged clit for a moment before slipping a second finger inside. “Is that good?” His dark eyes melted into hers as he pressed his thumb firmly against her swollen bud, and then he started to play his fingers against a G-spot that she could swear was swelling at every stroke.

  She would have said yes if she’d been able to speak instead of pant, but she could feel it coming, feel it so close. She moaned, tipped her hips, rocking against his hand desperately as the distant tremor in her pussy turned into an urgent throb. “Please.” And he knew exactly what to do to tip her over the edge, to release the waves of spasms so they broke over her with a sudden rush of intensity, rocking her whole body. “Shit.” She clutched at his shoulder, digging her nails in as he took her mouth, his tongue hard against hers, his hand tight in her hair, tipping her head back farther as his thumb massaged and his fingers gently played with her cunt until every last tremor of the orgasm was spent.

  “I think you needed that.” The lazy smile clutched at her throat as he slowly drew back and slipped his fingers out, tracing down the inside of her thigh, coating it with her own juices. Then he gently stroked the back of his hand down her cheek with a promise that made her tremble. “Are you ready to see what comes next?”

  Swallowing hard, she waited for the world to stop rocking. “You mean there’s more?” Shit, she was still seeing stars.

  “Oh yeah, plenty more.” He grinned.

  “Ouu.” Roisin grinned back. Wow, as fairy godmothers went, this one had done her proud. “What the hell are we doing standing here, then?” She grabbed his hand and practically dragged him through the back door of the pub and up the narrow s
taircase that led to the rooms her brother called home.

  ***

  “You are just so fuckable.”

  She’d only made it halfway up the stairs when his hand came down over hers on the banister, stopping her in her tracks.

  “Hey.” She half turned, but he was hard up against her, his other arm snaking out around her waist.

  “Stop right there, darling.” His soft voice in her ear sent a warning tingle as he pulled her unresisting hand from the rail and pushed her slightly forward so that she had to reach both arms out to the step to stop herself sprawling.

  Cold air rushed over her bum as he flipped her skirt up high over her back, one hand holding her firm, the other pushing between her still-damp thighs to ease them farther apart. Christ, he wasn’t going to…? One yank and he’d ripped her panties down to her ankles. He buried his face between her legs, nuzzling his way toward a pussy she knew was wet and glistening.

  Fuck. She moaned, biting into her hand as his tongue instantly found her swollen clit, making her pussy clench, making her claw at the stairs as he moved along her folds, opening her up to his mouth. His groan echoed inside her as he lapped at her juices. She parted her thighs even farther, her stomach and arms starting to tremble. He needed to be deeper inside her; she needed that tongue to explore her pussy in the same way it had explored her mouth. She desperately lifted her bum higher until she was balanced on her toes, rocking as he licked and probed.

  Last time a man had gone down on her it had seemed like a duty, like he was licking where he felt he should, sucking for the amount of time that was reasonable, a warm-up for the shag that was his real focus of pleasure. But this was different. Far, far different. Saul was reacting to every tremble of her thighs, every moan and whimper that escaped her lips, sucking, stroking, nibbling, lapping up the juices that flowed from her, sucking her clit gently, then harder as his fingers slipped inside her. One finger, two, three; she wasn’t sure what he was doing anymore as she rocked against his mouth, his hand, each thrust and stroke building up until she couldn’t bear it any longer. And then she didn’t have to. The orgasm hit her, her pussy clenching and releasing in a way she couldn’t have stopped if her life had depended on it, and she knew she was babbling as she clutched helplessly at the stair carpet.

  ***

  Unlocking the door was hard because her hand wouldn’t stop trembling, partly from the orgasm, but so much more from the anticipation of what was going to happen next.

  “Here.” Impatience took over and he took the key from her, opening the door and pushing her in, kicking it shut behind them. Her legs still shook from the orgasm that was melting her insides as he spun her around and pushed her back hard against the wall. She reached out, her hands curling instinctively into his hair as he pushed his hard body against hers, trapping her. She hadn’t yet seen him without clothes, but she felt like she knew every molded inch of him. She tried to pull his head closer but this time he didn’t move, kept the same distance.

  “Kiss me, please.” Her voice had a husky, unfamiliar edge to it, close to desperation. She’d be begging soon and she didn’t care.

  “Oh no.” He shook his head and his mouth curled at the corners. “We’re doing this at my speed, or it’ll be over far too soon.”

  She could hear a catch in his voice, a harsh edge of control that hadn’t been there before. Then, before she could react, he caught both her wrists and pinned them up above her head, transferring them into one large hand so he had one free. Slowly, he traced a finger down her cheek, her neck, smiling as she shivered with anticipation. He traced lower, down the center of her chest, into the dip between her breasts. He paused for the slightest moment before covering one breast with his hand, rubbing gently until her nipple hardened against his palm. “The perfect handful.” He squeezed, and shards of need shot straight down her stomach, to a pussy that was already hot, already bathed in her juices. She shifted her hips, trying to relieve some of the tension, and he gave a low, throaty laugh that echoed through her body.

  Slowly, he unbuttoned her blouse, tightening his grip slightly on her wrists, stretching her body so her breasts were lifted, switching every nerve ending to “on.” His fingers drifted over the delicate lace of her bra, teasing, tempting in a way that made her body shimmy as she desperately tried to get closer to him. He paused, glancing up at her flushed face before beginning to lick slowly and deliberately around the covered nipple, massaging the hard bud until it peaked, until frissons of need shot down to her stomach, making her muscles clench, tightening her stomach, tightening her pussy. His mouth closed around her breast, sucking until she was whimpering with need.

  “Saul, please…”

  Suddenly he bit hard, causing a jolt of pain that made her cry out in surprise. A new spasm of excitement shot straight to her cunt.

  Firm fingers pushed the fabric of her bra under her breasts, holding her steady as he took the soft flesh of her breast deeper into his mouth, his tongue flicking gently, soothing, playing with her until she felt she couldn’t bear it any longer. She moaned, and he sucked harder. She knew her hips were swaying in time with his suckling, knew that each movement brought her orgasm closer, and then he took his mouth away, and the cold air hit her damp skin with fresh, tingling sensation.

  Roisin swayed as she watched him, feeling abandoned without the touch of his mouth, his hands. He unbuckled his belt and stepped out of his trousers, rolling a condom onto a hard-on that jutted impatiently out. She ran her tongue expectantly over her lips and he smiled.

  “Another time, babe. Right now I need to be inside you. I need to have you, now.” Now. The firm way he said it sent a new prickle of awareness straight to her already throbbing pussy and she reached a hand down between her warm, damp thighs instinctively. Now wasn’t soon enough; he’d given her more foreplay than she’d had in a lifetime and all it had done was make her greedy.

  “I’ve got something better than your fingers for that sweet pussy.” He pulled her closer to him, kissing her briefly, his tongue skimming her lips, before turning her toward the arm of the chair. Her legs shook as he pushed her forward. One second was all it seemed to take for him to shove her skirt roughly up and push her legs wider apart. She felt his firm thumbs on her buttocks, felt them press down in her crack, and then his hard, jutting cock was against her. He was breathing hard as he teased her wet cunt, brushing his cock up and down, each stroke opening her up, making her more desperate to feel him deep inside her. He reached around to cup one of her breasts in a capable hand, tweaking her nipple as she pushed her bottom back impatiently against him. His fingers tightened painfully on her, making her yelp, and as she did, he thrust. One deep thrust that buried him to the hilt and made her cry turn into a scream of surprise. His hand moved from her breast down to her hip, gripping firmly as he withdrew slightly and thrust again, and this time she moaned. Both his hands held her firm as she clutched at the fabric of the cushions, lifting her bottom higher as he pounded into her, pushing back so that she could hear his balls slapping against her as the pain of pleasure started to build up inside her again.

  “Hang on, baby, hang on.” She could hear the tension in his voice, feel his fingers tighten as she fought the need to come. She couldn’t stand it anymore, needed him to push her over the edge. He was growing harder, bigger inside her with each thrust, the rasp of her nipples against the fabric of the chair winding her body up tighter. “Now.” It was a guttural moan.

  She knew. He hadn’t needed to say it; she knew he was about to come, could feel the surge, and as she let go, so did he. And Roisin suddenly discovered just how good shagging a stranger could be.

  ***

  Roisin stretched and flung out an arm. Then realization hit her. One, it wasn’t her bed; two, she ached in places she didn’t know she had; and three, the sheets next to her were rumpled. Very rumpled. As though there had been an orgy in them.

  Shit.
She groaned and rolled over on her front, burying her face in the pillow. Which smelled unmistakably of male. Double shit.

  She rolled back over on her side and opened an eye. The pillow next to her had a definite dip in it. A head-shaped type of dip. But, luckily, no head. Which got her sitting bolt upright, and grabbing the sheet to cover her boobs, just in case.

  Oh fuck, what had happened to her? What had she just done?

  Oh yeah, she’d had sex. Lots of sex, in a way she’d never imagined before. Wild monkey sex, as Sam would have called it, with the first man she had bumped into.

  She flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. If she shut her eyes maybe it would all go away. Toby might only have been gone a matter of months, but it was much longer than that since she’d had sex, and even then that had been polite, “would you mind terribly if I come?” kind of sex. Which meant maybe Sam had been right—both about her being a prude and about wild monkey sex being the answer. Except now she wasn’t too sure.

  The only good part was that he’d gone, which cut out the early morning embarrassment, the “what the hell do I say?” bit, and meant she could pretend everything was normal. But, if she was honest, that didn’t really feel that good at all now. Why the fuck had he been such a rude bastard that he’d bolted; had she been that bad? Maybe she had been frigid.

  She glanced at the clock just to make sure, but yep, it was only six a.m. She always woke early, even, it seemed, after the type of shag-you-senseless sex that left you out for the count, and right now she had to get going. Not lie here clutching the sheets and trying to work out just how the hell she’d managed to get her leg over his shoulder like that. She wasn’t sure “leg over” was supposed to mean that.

  Bugger, she’d never catch up if she didn’t stop reliving her exploits and get her butt into gear. Which was why she shouldn’t have stayed in town; she should have gone home like she usually did. She winced and swung her feet out of bed, putting a hand out to feel the covers where he’d been. Still warm. Still with the slightest scent of male muskiness left behind to tease her. No, it was better he’d taken off. Avoided any awkwardness, even if it stung her pride a bit, which was all it was. Which was stupid. After all, it hadn’t exactly been a mistake, but nor was it supposed to be the start of anything. It had been one night of lust, of releasing the desperate need he had wakened in her. One shag. One “start your life all over again” shag.