Page 5
It was just that f**king good.
And, there’s no way I’m letting her out of this room anytime soon.
“It’s funny,” I tell her after I take another sip of water and resume staring at the ceiling. “I have you pegged as a banker. Stella the Banker. I think that sounds right. ”
“You’re so wrong. ” She giggles.
“But you’re not going to tell me what you do for a living?” I ask as I turn on my side to face her. She moves her gaze from the ceiling to me, and her eyes are warm and filled with good nature.
“Nope. I’ll just be Stella the Banker, to you. ”
“Stella, the unbelievably hot banker,” I amend as I reach a hand out and circle a fingertip around one nipple.
“You make one hot banker yourself,” she says with a soft pant.
Leaning over, I let my tongue move along the same path, lightly circling the hard nub, scraping my teeth over it. I pull it into my mouth and suck gently, causing her hands to come up and wrap around my head, holding me tight in place. Flexing my jaw, I pull her nipple in deep with a bit of a harder suck and she bucks softly against me. I let it go and intend on hitting the other one hard, but I make the mistake of looking in her eyes.
They are full of wanton desire, and so focused on me that my c**k starts growing.
Impossible, I think to myself, because given how hard I just orgasmed a bit ago, I was almost positive I’d be out of action for another half hour at least.
But it’s true. Just from one sinful look and I’m ready to get going for round two.
“Balcony,” is all I say, pushing myself up off the bed. She sits up and I grab her hand, pulling her along behind me. She doesn’t hesitate and follows right behind me as I push the doors open. A light breeze filters in but it’s still muggy outside, which is typical for July. We’re on the twentieth floor, but we can still hear the rumble of engines and the honking of horns below us on Madison Avenue. The quiet darkness of Central Park stretches out beyond.
I walk up to the edge of the balcony, which is made of stone and concrete, sitting about three and a half feet high. I pull Stella in front of me, stepping in close behind her and I rub my semi against her ass cheeks until I start to get harder. Pushing my whole body into her, I try to make her step right up against the concrete wall but I notice she braces her hands on the edge, refusing to get closer.
“I’m afraid of heights,” she whispers, and I immediately feel like such a douche.
Stepping back, I grab her elbow and try to pull her away. “Come on… let’s go back inside. ”
“No,” she says, turning her back on me and facing the wall. “I’ll keep my eyes closed. ”
Yup… dick now supremely hard, because I know how hot it can be to get f**ked while your eyes are closed. Having nothing but the sensation of sound and touch to rely on. Her idea has merit, so I step back up to her and push her up against the wall. I assume her eyes are closed but her body is still tense, so I bring one arm around her shoulders, laying a palm over one breast. I squeeze it, plump it, and test the weight in my hand. I rub a thumbnail over her nipple, eliciting a soft sigh from her.
Good, she’s relaxing.
While still massaging her breast, I bring my other hand around to work her clit. Straight shot… right to her center. Her head slams back on my shoulder, while my fingertips circle and rub against her. Every third or fourth stroke, I plunge a finger in and work her cl*t with my thumb. She’s so f**king responsive that it doesn’t take much to get her body ready for me, and I can feel her start to tremble all over.
I pinch at her nipple and push two fingers inside, the slickness of her desire making entrance easy. She groans, pumping her h*ps back and forth, and I let her ride my hand for a bit. Slowly, I push my chest forward, causing her to start bending over, never decreasing the pace of my fingering.
“Keep your eyes closed,” I remind her, removing my hand from her breast and bringing it down to her hip.
When her chest reaches the stone wall, I push her all the way down until her br**sts mash against the cool concrete and her ass is tipped upward at me.
Nice.
My fingers are in deep and my thumb is working her hard. All that’s left to do is line up and push my way in. But I wait… wait until I see her trembling become a little fiercer and she sucks in a large gulp of air. Her body tenses hard, and I know her orgasm is starting.
That’s when I quickly remove my fingers, bracing my hands on her hips, and slam forward. She takes me all the way in and f**k… I can feel her spasming all around me as she comes with an almost pained cry.
Not going to last long at all, so I start hitting it hard. I wanted to go slow out here, relish the scenery, listen to the sounds of the city. But I can’t. I’m chasing another orgasm… seeking one greater than the last, because I know this woman is the one that can give it to me. I just know it will be better than before.
My blood pulses hard within my veins, sweat breaks out on my forehead, and all the muscles in my lower back tense. Pressure bubbles and roils deep in my groin, and I slam into her harder and harder. I listen to her carefully though, as I don’t want to hurt her. She moans sweetly and once she says, “God yes. ”
God? No.
Matt Fucking Connover? Yes.
I thrust in one more time, my ass cheeks squeezing so hard I’m afraid I might get a Charlie horse, and then I unload inside of her as I shout out to the New York skyline, “Fuck yes!”
***
I take the last swig of beer and drop the bottle on the floor beside my recliner. It clanks against the other one laying there on the carpet. I’ve been in this damn chair all day, having crashed here when I came home this morning at dawn.
I have never f**ked so hard and for so long in my life, but it’s like we could not get enough of each other. I was like the f**king Energizer Bunny and just couldn’t stop. Even the last time… before we left… I was bound and determined to go down on her and ring one more orgasm out of that sweet body. She tried to push me off, told me she couldn’t, and I growled back at her that she could.
Then I showed her that she could.
It took thirty minutes but f**k… she came hard. Even though I didn’t have another orgasm left inside of me, getting her off one more time left me a satisfied man.
My gaze lands on the TV… on some baseball game I could care less about, but I’m too lazy to lift the remote to point it at the TV to change it. I swear… Stella may have broken me.
And yet… I find myself thinking about her all day, getting the periodic hard-on and wishing she were here right now so I could sink into her.
Fuckity-fuck. What the f**k is wrong with me?
Rubbing my hands over my face and then scraping my fingers across my scalp, I try to bring some clarity to my brain. Why am I obsessing and still thinking about a woman I will never see again? I mean, she was a great lay.
A really great lay.
Oh, who the f**k am I kidding? She was the best lay I’ve ever had.
I don’t know why. It’s not like I did anything with her that I haven’t done with countless other women. She’s beautiful, but I’ve f**ked beautiful women before. She’s not even that adventurous, preferring vanilla to kink. I think the dirtiest she got with me last night was when I made her put her red lipstick back on before sucking my c**k a second time. But she just gamely raised one eyebrow at me before pulling the lipstick tube out of her purse and slathering it on that amazing mouth of hers.
Then she gave me a b**w j*b that made my eyes cross.
I think the thing that probably hit me right in the belly… made my attraction to her skyrocket into the stratosphere, was out on the balcony. She was terrified of heights, but she stayed out there because she knew that was a fantasy of mine. She closed her eyes, faced her fears, and let me f**k her while I looked twenty stories down to the Manhattan streets. She was a f**king champ.
All freaking night we went at it, taking breaks to drink water, sometimes dozing while we spooned, and once, ordering room service. While giving my dick a chance to recover, we talked about our mutual interests, but we never got anywhere close to divulging identifying information about ourselves. Still… the conversation was light, easy, and she made me laugh on more than one occasion. I found her wit to be razor sharp, sarcastic, and completely self-deprecating. I ate that shit up.
Somewhere between the time we f**ked in the shower, and when I went down on her the last time, I started thinking about asking for her phone number. I thought maybe we could get together again… maybe in a week or so.
Or maybe the next night.
Whatever.
I thought possibly I could even take her to dinner. It’s not an unheard of concept for me. I mean, I took Marissa out to dinner when we were dating, I’m sure I remember how to do it.
But just as soon as that thought entered my head, I banished it. Stomped it down good into the dark recesses of my mind. Then I locked it up and threw away the key.
Matt Fucking Connover does not date.
He does not give.
He takes, and he may reciprocate, but he has no room in his life for a woman.
No matter how great a f**k she is.
So when dawn was just around the corner, we silently got dressed, sometimes looking at each other with a soft smile or a sly grin. I was exhausted, yet exhilarated, and when I watched her hook her bra behind her back, I thought briefly about pushing her back down on the bed. But I shook my head, cleared my thoughts, and mentally started pushing Stella out of my head.
We walked out of the hotel together, and I hailed her a cab. When it pulled to the curb, I gave her a soft kiss and said, “That may have been the best night of my life. I shit you not. ”
Yeah, I know… not the most romantic stuff I’ve ever spouted out, but it was truthful. I think it may have been the single best night of my life.
Pushing myself up from my chair, I bend over and grab the empty beer bottles. Padding into the kitchen, I put them in the recycle bin and open the fridge for something to eat. Nothing looks appealing, mostly because a lot of it’s covered with green fuzz, so I just pull another beer out and twist the top off.
Stella the hot banker is done. Over. Finished.
I tell myself to forget about her, although I’ll allow myself to bring forth the memories when I jerk off. That’s allowed.
Turning back to the living room, I head for my recliner, content to spend the rest of the evening there watching TV.
Chapter 5
“So then the judge apologized to me for the misunderstanding, and we had a good laugh about it. The entire courtroom was in stitches,” Lorraine says as she giggles like a thirteen-year-old girl and reaches out again to touch my arm lightly with her hand.
I see her opening her mouth but all I hear is blah, blah, blah. She’s been talking inanely for the last fifteen minutes, throwing in flirty giggles and touches while we wait for her associate attorney, McKayla Dawson, to show up.
I want to pull my hair out.
Glancing at my watch, I pin a hard stare at Lorraine. “Perhaps you should give Miss Dawson a call to see where she is. ”
I can’t abide people being late, and Miss Dawson certainly isn’t off to a good start with my firm this Monday morning. Add on to that, I’m still cranky as hell, having not been able to shake the thought of Stella from my mind. I keep thinking about contacting her through ONO and see if we can get together again, and yeah… I know that breaches my one-night rule, but f**k it.
She was too f**king amazing to let her slip by without another taste, right?
Just as Lorraine is reaching for her phone, the conference room doorknob turns and I wait to get my first glance at the very late Miss Dawson. I put on my most ferocious glare, so she knows I’m not happy to have been kept waiting.
The door swings open and I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut, then my dick actually twitches and starts to get hard. Standing there with nervous eyes, looking over at Lorraine, is Stella… The Hot Banker.
Confessions of a Litigation God Page 5
