Matched

by S. E. Lund

  I take the elevator back up, wondering how Jon will be when I arrive. Contrite? Apologetic?

  I go to his room and find that the door is held open by the deadbolt.

  "Jon?" I say as I open the door and enter the hotel room. "I've got coffee and Danishes."

  The room is empty, but the door to the bathroom is closed and I can hear water running.

  He's still in the bathroom.

  I start to say, "I'll just leave the coffee and come back later," but the door opens and there's Jon, half naked with just a wisp of a towel around his waist, tucked in low on his hips so that I can see his amazing washboard abs over a very ample bulge. His chest is magnificent – broad, his pecs well-developed, his biceps bulging, an amazing tribal tattoo on his arm and chest.

  God, he's gorgeous. A surge of desire flows through my body at the sight of him, standing in the bathroom doorway, his hair wet and falling into his eyes in that sexy way…

  "Stay," he says. "I won't be long."

  I go into the room and put the food and coffee cups down on the desk. While he finishes whatever he's doing in the bathroom, I sit on the bed and turn up the volume on the television. It's tuned to CNBC and two talking heads are discussing the stock market's latest heights. A stock ticker runs along the bottom of the screen.

  Jon comes out of the bathroom and opens the closet door, removing his suit and shirt from hangers. Then, he proceeds to slip on his shirt.

  "Are you going to get dressed in front of me?"

  He fastens his cuffs. "Nothing's stopping you from looking away if you want."

  I glance away, staring out the window, through the curtains at the city beyond. I clench my fists, angered that he's being so damn provocative.

  "Are you trying to turn me on by getting dressed in front of me?"

  "Is it working?"

  I laugh out loud. "No," I say, although the prospect of seeing Jon completely naked is very tempting.

  "Then no harm, no foul."

  He finishes dressing while I watch out the window, unable to stop smiling at his audacity. Was he really hoping that seeing him get dressed would turn me on so much that I'd jump his bones for a quickie before our meeting?

  Men are such strange creatures.

  "You're thinking like a man," I say, still grinning. "That might work in reverse, but not with a woman."

  "Damn," he says, his voice amused. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

  He goes to the desk and picks up one of the bottles of orange juice and hands it to me. "Here. A peace offering."

  I take it from him and force a smile. I've been so discombobulated by his antics that I forgot to drink one. Oh, he's enjoying this. He's enjoying my discomfort.

  Then, while I watch, he grabs a Danish and eats it with gusto. He turns to me. "It's really good. Do you want one?"

  I nod, because I need some sugar if I'm going to make it through this next two hours.

  Jon sits on the bed beside me, and together we eat our breakfasts and watch the news in silence for a few moments. When I'm done, I wipe my hands on the napkin he hands me and take another sip of my coffee.

  "Should we go over the presentation?"

  He nods. When I stand up, he grabs my hand and stops me.

  "I'm sorry I was such an idiot last night." He squeezes my hand. "I can't resist you." Then he opens my palm, kissing it, his lips pressed against my skin. "I don’t want to ruin things between us. I just got a bit carried away."

  He looks up into my eyes, and I can't help but feel my heart squeeze a bit at his expression. So serious.

  "It's okay." I smile at him and try to pull my hand out of his, but he doesn’t let me. Instead, he kisses it again.

  Then he pulls me close so that I'm standing between his thighs and my face is almost level with his.

  "Jon," I whisper, because I can tell where this is leading.

  "India," he says, his voice soft. He pulls me against him and looks in my eyes. "I want you to know that I care very deeply about you. And not just as a business partner. As a person. As a woman."

  I can't help but rest my hands on his shoulders.

  I don’t know what to say. I don't want to say, "I know," which feels like the right thing to say, because I don't know.

  "A week, Jon. A full week."

  "I've had more than enough time to know what I want," he says softly. "I want you."

  Then he pulls my head down and kisses me and I'm so overwhelmed with emotions and desire that I let him. I feel such emotion in that moment that I almost gasp for breath from the strength of it. Our arms go around each other more tightly. When the kiss ends, he buries his face in my neck, kissing the skin beneath my ear, and despite everything, I close my eyes and just let it happen.

  Then he's kissing my throat and the swell above my breasts, his hands pulling my body closer.

  "We don't have much time," I say, my mind going to mundane things like what time our meeting is and whether I can do this, even though my body is wet and swollen already at the touch of his lips on my skin.

  "I won't need it," he murmurs against my breast. He bites my nipple through the fabric and I groan, closing my eyes.

  I know I won't need it either.

  Am I going to let this happen?

  He squeezes one of my buttocks, then unbuttons my blouse and I realize I am. I’m going to let him do this.

  I'm going to let him fuck me – finally.

  The thought of it makes my core throb almost painfully, because I need him to fill me up, to pound me hard and make me orgasm the way I've imagined for years. The next thing I know, my blouse is off, and I'm unlatching my bra and he's once again sucking my nipples like he can't get enough of me. He buries his face between them, squeezing and sucking until I'm squirming in need.

  He stands up and turns me around, pointing to my skirt. "Take it off."

  I comply, and while he removes his shirt and slacks, I'm unzipping the back of my skirt, letting it fall to the ground, leaving only my thong on. He's wearing a pair of black Joe Boxer boxer-briefs, his erection outlined clearly through the fabric.

  My thong is skimpy see-through lace, flesh-colored, showing my very neatly trimmed pussy. When he pushes me back onto the bed, I almost laugh but then he drops his briefs and I get a look at what has been rumored, by those women of his who have talked about him, to be very thick and long.

  They weren't exaggerating. It's both.

  Knowing it will soon be inside of me makes my breath catch in my throat. I want to be impaled on him, and I don't care what position. Him on top. Me on top. From behind. Reverse cowgirl. It doesn’t matter. All I want is to feel him in me.

  He pushes me farther up on the bed and when I reach down to remove my thong, he stops me with his hands.

  "No," he says firmly. "Let me."

  He licks me over the thin fabric, pressing his tongue exactly over my clit, which is throbbing in delight. Then, he strips them off me and throws them onto the floor. He spreads my thighs, his head hovering over my pussy, his eyes taking me in, roving over my body from my face down to my clit, which he's exposed with his fingers, spreading me wide.

  "Nice and wet," he murmurs and bends down, covering me with his mouth, his tongue finding my clit and stroking firmly.

  "Oh, God," I groan, and close my eyes. It feels so good and I know I'll orgasm quickly if he keeps that up.

  He does keep it up, licking me firmly, then swirling his tongue over my entire slit, tonguing the entrance to my body, then slipping a finger inside me.

  "So wet," he says again. "So ready."

  He slips another finger inside me, then resumes licking and sucking my clit. Before I can warn him, I'm over the edge, the pleasure like fire through my veins, down my thighs and up into my chest.

  "Oh, God, I'm coming," I say, and feel the first spasms of my flesh around his fingers, the pleasure so exquisite I'm panting from it. He doesn’t stop through my orgasm, just keeps licking me and sucking me, his fingers stroking inside of m
e. My pleasure goes on and on until it's too much and I have to stop him, pushing away his head.

  "No, stop, please – it's too much…"

  He finally stops, his fingers still inside me, his mouth poised over my pussy.

  "That was fast," he says, grinning up at me like he's won. "You were ready."

  I lie back, my eyes closed, not wanting to see the victory on his face and in his eyes. Yeah, I was fast. I haven't been eaten or fucked for a very long time. Having Jon eat me until I come is like the biggest turn-on I could imagine, and has populated my masturbatory fantasies for months.

  Hell, a year…

  "Don't relax just yet," he says and leans up, his fingers still deep inside of me, and kisses me. I can taste my saltiness on his tongue. He thumbs my clit, which is still swollen, pulsing occasionally in the aftermath of my orgasm. "I want another one of those, this time with my cock inside you."

  "You're in charge," I say, my eyes closed, my arms thrown up over my head.

  "I am," he says and I can hear the pleasure in his voice. He begins to suck my nipples once more. I'm not sure I can come again, but my core still feels achy and he may be able to work me up again if I just relax. I try to turn my mind off, turn off my awareness of the time and the reality of what's happening, and focus on how good it feels to have his mouth on me, sucking my nipple, biting it gently while his fingers continue to move inside me, his thumb pressing beside my clit, stroking all around it, avoiding direct contact.

  He's damn good at this.

  He finally pulls his fingers out of my body and it's then I realize we don’t have a condom.

  "A condom," I say, my eyes flying open.

  He rises, reaching over to his bag on the bed, and unzips a compartment. He searches inside it and removes a two-pack of condoms, ripping one open and then unrolling it over his erection.

  Then he kneels between my thighs, and begins to stroke my pussy with the head of his cock. I'm so wet from his mouth and my own orgasm that it feels amazing, and I squirm beneath him.

  "Squeeze your breasts for me," he says in a throaty voice. "Pinch your own nipples."

  I do what he asks and watch him watching me, his eyes moving from my breasts to my pussy where he strokes his cock over my clit.

  "I'm going to fuck you now," he says in a low husky voice. "I'm going to make you come again."

  I don't say anything because I know he's right, and he will.

  Chapter 10

  JON

  I hold off for as long as I can from entering India's body, wanting to build her up far enough so that she'll come again. She's still wet and ready. I want to hear her cry out when she comes on my cock.

  That will be sweet victory.

  I want to come while her body spasms around me. Timing it just right will take skill, but I'm determined to succeed. I enter her just enough to stretch her out while my thumb does slow circles around her hard, swollen clit. In and out, circle and stroke.

  "Tell me when you're close," I say, watching her body for signs of her impending orgasm. She's breathing fast and shallow; her nipples are swollen and her eyes are half-lidded. She is magnificent – beautiful and hot and my cock is so hard now, I know that a couple minutes of fast thrusting will push me over because she's so tight, despite how wet she is.

  She hasn't been fucked for a while. The thought that I am her first in a long time makes me even harder. I want to claim her as my own. I want to possess her cries of pleasure, see her eyes roll up in her head from how intense it is.

  I slide deeper inside her, thumbing her clit, one hand squeezing her breast. Now, I'm completely inside of her and she moans beneath me. She likes how thick I am and I know that once I start to thrust, it won't take long. The skin on her chest is mottled, and it’s rising up to her neck.

  She's so close.

  I begin to thrust, slowly, deliberately, pulling out each time to stroke my cock over her slit, her clit, before pushing inside again. I repeat this over and over, until I'm very close and I have to breathe deeply to prevent my own orgasm.

  "Tell me when you're ready," I say, thrusting several times before I pull out and stroke her entire slit with my cock. "Tell me to fuck you hard," I say, wanting to see her let go.

  I thrust harder, longer, and pull out again, push inside again.

  "Oh, God," she says, "fuck me harder."

  I do, filling her up, thrusting deep and hard, until my balls slap against her ass, her thighs lifted up and spread wide. I keep my thumb on her clit while I pound her and then I see it – see her lose control. Her eyes roll up and I thrust faster, turning myself over to my own orgasm, certain of hers. Her cunt spasms around my cock as I pound her, and then my orgasm begins, the pleasure almost blinding me, my balls tightening, my cock pulsing with spasm after spasm as I ejaculate.

  "Oh, fuck…"

  I ram myself deep inside of her, the pleasure peaking as I come, waves of pleasure washing over my body from my balls to my thighs to my head.

  I finish and lean over her, my arms on either side of her shoulders, my face beside hers. Both of us are breathing hard, lost in the sensations.

  It was so fucking good…

  So fucking good.

  My cock spasms and I feel her cunt convulse around me. I rise and rest on my hands, watching her as she lies beneath me. Her nipples are hard buds but her body is otherwise slack, her thighs spread wide, my cock still buried inside her.

  She's so beautiful.

  She's mine now.

  This is happening. Finally.

  When she opens her eyes, there's a moment of recognition on her part that we've done this. We're into it now. No more delaying. No more excuses.

  "Jon," she says, and I know what she's going to say, but I stop her, my finger to her lips.

  "No, don't say a word."

  She looks in my eyes and I know she wants to protest or say ‘we can't do this’ or whatever she thinks has to be said. It doesn't have to be said. I already know all her excuses and reasons why we can't be a couple.

  It's all bullshit.

  This – this great fuck – this fantastic fuck – just means that we should be together.

  And we will be. We are.

  "You're mine," I say.

  "But –"

  I bend down and kiss into silence what I know will be her meek protests. I kiss her deeply, emotions welling up inside of me. Possession. Ownership. Lust.

  We kiss like we both mean it and when I pull back, she's silent, not protesting, and I think that maybe she realizes that this is happening and there's no stopping it now.

  I'm going to indulge myself in her body until she's so satiated from my mouth and my cock that she's almost drunk on it.

  After our meeting at the Pentagon.

  Then I come back to the present and look at the clock radio beside my bed.

  Damn. We have exactly forty-five minutes to get dressed, go over the presentation, and drive to the Pentagon.

  It'll be close.

  "We better get ready," I say, kissing her breast, biting gently on her nipple. "As much as I'd like to make you come again, we have a contract to negotiate."

  "We do," she says, smiling softly up at me.

  My cock is still semi-erect and I could come again if we had time, but we don't.

  "I don't want to pull out of you," I murmur against her neck, kissing her throat. "But I have to."

  "You do," she replies and when I lean up, she's smiling, her eyes closed. She runs her hands through her hair and I know she's basking in the delicious after-effects of her two orgasms. "I don't know if my brain will work after what you did to me."

  I laugh, and suck on her nipple once more, running my tongue around the hard areola. She squirms beneath me.

  "Don't," she says in protest. "How will I be able to focus if I'm still aroused?"

  "You'll have to deal," I say, grinning widely. "Maybe I better do the presentation today."

  She opens her eyes. "Do you want to?"

 
; "No," I say, and kiss her on the lips. "I want to watch you give it and remember how your face looks while you're coming on my cock."

  "Probably ugly," she says with a laugh. "My eyes all screwed up, my jaw slack like I'm brain dead."

  "Hardly," I say, and roll her over on top of me and smack her butt. "You could never be ugly. A woman in the throes of an orgasm is a thing of beauty."

  "Oh, yeah?" She makes this wacky face that looks nothing like her during an orgasm and I can't help but laugh.

  "I'm sure I look handsome and dashing when I'm coming."

  "Oh, you do. You look like a raging bull."

  I laugh again and then I stop and just look at her. "There's nothing else to compare. Seriously," I say, enjoying the way her hair falls over us. I imagine it draping over my body later as she sucks my cock. Which she is definitely going to do later, after our meeting. I'll reserve the room for another night so we can spend the entire night eating, fucking, and sucking ourselves into oblivion. "I could watch you coming forever."

  She smiles and leans down to kiss me once more.

  We kiss, and it's so much more meaningful than any kiss I've had in a long time.

  Maybe forever.

  Once we're dressed and have tidied ourselves up, we do a quick run-through of the presentation and then haul our computers and files into a waiting Uber to take us to the Pentagon. I think the driver doesn’t really believe us when we ask him to take us there, but he does anyway. I think about how we must look to him – two fashionable millennials. Me with hair a bit too long and a bit too much scruff on my jaw, India far too beautiful for some stuffy military facility.

  But we're the dynamic duo. Brains and beauty. Ambition and lust all mixed up into a hot beautiful mess.

  The presentation goes smoothly – as usual – and if India's orgasms scrambled her brain, it doesn't show.

  In the hallway as we're walking out of the facility, escorted by a civilian employee who’s there to make sure we get out safely, I lean over to her.

  "Obviously, those two orgasms weren't enough to throw you off your game," I whisper. "That's good to know."

  She gives me a horrified look, like the walls might have ears and learn that we're fucking and not award us the contract. I laugh at the expression on her face.