by S. Layne
“Tonight, you will be pleasured in ways you’ve never dreamed of.”
“You’re confident.” My eyes sparkle, but my nerves prevent a smile.
“I am going to take you to my room and fuck you until you scream. I’m going to make you orgasm until you don’t remember your pain, and then I’m going to do it all over again until you can’t walk tomorrow, and can’t sleep for weeks without waking up wanting me.”
I clear my throat. “That sounds dangerous.”
“It’s thrilling.”
And destructive.
Already I know this man. He’s a manipulator, and I’ve played right into his hands with his seductive grins and teasing touches.
I can see his promises in unspoken words and the ones he said, and I know he’s right.
Tonight will be amazing.
One I will remember forever. I will deal with the regret that’s sure to follow in the morning.
“Should we get started?” I ask, my liquid confidence overtaking my nerves.
Liam doesn’t seem to mind. He reaches into his suit coat, pulls out a billfold, and tosses a fifty-dollar bill down on the table. It’s too much for two drinks, but I smile, wondering if he’s as impatient as I suddenly am.
But even if he is, I’m certain it’s for very different reasons.
Me, impatient because I can back out at any second.
Him, simply because he wants me.
The knowledge thrills me. So when he stands and places his hand on my back and guides me toward the elevators, I go willingly.
The lobby is quiet and I’m thankful.
It would be too easy for people to hear my heart thundering against my rib cage when we wait for the elevators to open.
Next to me, Liam’s touch on my back continues to tease me. The satin fabric suddenly feels too thick, and every time I shift on my feet or press my thighs together, his smile widens knowingly.
“Stop it,” I murmur when the elevator doors open.
He drops his hand from my back only to press the button to his floor. The top floor.
I blink at the realization he’s taking me to a suite much larger than my own, and find myself backed into the corner.
Like the prey I am.
“We’re alone,” Liam says, and immediately walks toward me. His body blocks me from being able to see the doors, but I’m not looking at them anyway.
My eyes slowly roam his body starting at his feet, up his designer three-piece suit that is impeccably fitted to his frame.
He has money. Lots of it. Not that it matters, but it’s noticeable from the way he dresses to the way he carries himself.
I continue looking, taking my fill when he leans forward and cages me in, and his hands on the elevator handrail at my sides. My eyes slow down, wanting to soak in every feature, every moment, when I see his square jaw. A stubble that means he shaves once every day but could stand to do it twice.
My finger itches to run down his jaw, feeling his coarse stubble abrade the sensitive skin on the pads of my fingertips, yet I don’t.
I’m too in awe of his beauty to move. Or think clearly.
“You can stop this at any time,” he says quietly, although I feel his voice echo in the confined space. “Just tell me when.”
“I will,” I say, and swallow the lump in my throat.
Without the whiskey, whatever measure of confidence I had has evaporated.
He doesn’t give me another warning before his lips brush against mine.
He tastes like whiskey and mint, and I immediately sink back into the wall behind me.
One of his hands moves to my waist, and he pulls me against him. He’s tall—so much taller than me that I have to stand on my tiptoes even though I’m already wearing heels.
His tongue licks the seam of my lips and his hand leaves my waist, finding the hem of my skirt.
He grips the back of my thigh, kneading my skin, and lifts my leg over his hip.
I’m opened to him in an elevator. It’s insane. It’s thrilling.
I moan into him, parting my lips and twisting so I can take more of him.
Nerves leave my body and it’s flooded with something else.
Something more powerful.
Need.
“Laurie,” he murmurs, breaking apart from me. “You taste delicious.”
“You too,” I respond, my voice breathy. It earns me a small chuckle before his hand leaves my thigh and he straightens my skirt.
I squirm from the loss of his touch and the insane need swirling in my lower stomach. My thighs clench together and I watch as he fixes his suit, un-wrinkling it and making it perfect.
The action makes me snicker. He doesn’t seem like a man who fidgets unnecessarily, so he must be compulsive about his looks.
“What?” he asks, a nervous grin almost appearing.
Another laugh bubbles from my chest and I cover my mouth with my hand.
Liam takes it away, pulls it behind his back, and has me plastered to him all over again, silencing me.
“I’m just nervous,” I tell him honestly. I’ve been with one man my entire life. And it started when we were just kids—two teenagers fumbling over their first orgasms and experimenting together. But James and I did, and we did it often, always willing to try new things.
Until the last year when it all became…stale.
Expected and predictable.
I didn’t realize how much I’d missed our earlier passion for each other until this very moment, and I find myself pulling away from Liam, looking down at the floor.
His other hand grips my chin with his thumb and finger and pulls me to face him.
Ours eyes meet for a moment. His assessing. Mine terrified and ready to bolt.
His lips spread and he leans in, immediately pressing his lips to mine and wasting no time tasting me, his tongue instantly swirling with mine, and I melt into his chest. His grip on my other hand tightens and I lean in, feeling his erection against my stomach.
I groan, losing myself in his taste and his touch and the forbiddenness of it all.
“Liam,” I whisper.
“Give yourself to me for the night, Laurie, and I will erase your pain.”
It’s the second time he’s said this.
Is my pain so obviously written across my face and in my eyes? I blink away the depressing thought.
Behind me the elevator doors open. Liam opens his eyes, catching my gaze, and silently asks if this is what I want.
Without hesitating, I nod, stepping toward him as a silent request.
My silent submission.
My heart stops beating the moment the door to his suite clicks shut behind me.
In front of me is a view of Chicago through a wall of windows from thirty stories high. The sun is still setting, casting orange and purple hues across the skyline and Lake Michigan in front of me. It’s the same lake I see every day of my life, but here it looks completely different—a vast span of dark water instead of the sparkling blue I’m used to. Here, it looks threatening instead of calming.
The exact same feeling that’s rolling off the man behind me, making his way to me, which I can see through the window’s reflection.
Apprehension surges down my spine and my shoulders roll back, stiffening when his hand reaches out and covers my shoulder.
My eyes meet his through the reflection and my lips part, catching the bright blue in his eyes that seem as stormy as the water in front of me.
Liam presses up against me, his chest to my back, and his hand slowly begins to trail down my arm until he reaches my hand. He lifts it and presses my palm to the cool glass in front of me.
The chill elicits a different shiver that spreads through my skin and up my arm.
With his hand covering mine on the glass, he leans forward and whispers, never once taking his eyes off mine through the window.
“I want to fuck you here, thirty stories high, against the glass. I want you to watch through the window’s reflectio
n. I want you to look down at the street and wonder if people can see what I’m doing to you.”
“I…” I swallow and try again, stammering over my words in bewilderment. “That’s…that’s a lot of things you want.”
His hips press into mine and I can feel his hardness through his pants, pressing against my lower back. Instinctively, I press back against him and relish the deep groan that escapes his lips.
The sound vibrates along my ear and all rational thought flees.
“You want it, too.”
And he’s right. It’s scandalous and scary.
Yet with his hand on my hip, slowly dropping to the hem of my skirt and lifting it, I can only concentrate on the feel of his slightly rough skin skimming across mine, and the intensity in his eyes.
Slowly, I nod and spread my legs further apart, silently granting him access.
“I like that,” he whispers, “your willingness to spread those legs for me.”
My head drops forward, my dark hair creating a blanket of protection where he can no longer see me.
“God,” I exhale. “You’re scaring the hell out of me.”
His deep, throaty chuckle reverberates down my skin, and before my knees give out, my other hand presses against the glass and I brace myself.
“I should,” he replies. His fingers move up my skirt, pushing the thin fabric higher until I see it bunched around my waist. I’m indecent, fully clothed on the top, a ring of fabric around my waist that used to hide my most intimate parts. But those are now fully on display for the city of Chicago to see, covered only by a small strip of light blue lace.
“I’m not a man that promises forever, Laurie.” I lift my eyes and once again meet his in the window. “I promise pleasure and freedom, but it always ends.”
His eyes are different, slightly hazy as his fingertips lightly graze my inner thigh, moving higher, but as light as snowflakes falling on your nose.
I lick my lips and nod. “I understand.”
A slight tic along his stubbled jaw is his response when his fingers brush against the edge of my lace.
“Tell me,” he says, teasing me with his fingers.
My pulse thrums in my core and I can feel it beating, silently begging for him to ease the ache he’s created.
“When I move my hand, will I find you wet?”
Yes. So wet. A rough sound falls from my parted lips and his hips push against me.
“Tell me.”
“Yes,” I choke out, my voice garbled and thick. My head is spinning and I no longer know where to look—at his eyes, the skyline in front of me, or down to where his fingers are moving…pushing aside my panties. “Oh God,” I moan right as he dances over the rough fabric.
My clit pulses. The lightness of his touch and the roughness of the fabric against my overly heated skin send conflicting messages to my body. I feel like I’m burning.
It’s too much and I press into his fingers, needing more.
He chuckles and runs his jaw along my cheek right as his fingers push away the offending lace around my pussy.
“There it is,” he whispers, his eyes still on mine. I can feel him, but I’m not watching.
Liam presses over my clit, rolling it with expert precision, and my head falls back against his shoulder behind me.
“Yes,” I breathe, and my hips begin rocking at his torturous movements.
His fingers move in, pressing in slowly but firmly until my needy sex clamps around them, pulling them inside and not letting them go.
“You’re so wet…so warm. So tight,” he murmurs against my skin, eliciting another groan and mewl from me.
I want this. I want to fall over the edge with this stranger, not knowing if anyone can see me. In mere minutes he’s erased my insecurities and filled me with what he’s promised.
Pleasure and freedom—from everything.
“Oh…I…” I can’t stop moving. His fingers move in and out, pushing and finding the perfect spot side inside of me. The heel of his hand presses against my clit, helping, and after another gasp, my thighs tighten and then my abs.
I fall over the edge of ecstasy, bracing myself against a window that seems too thin to hold me in, and my entire body shatters from the inside out.
“So delicious,” he finally says when my heart has slowed and I can lift my head again. Behind me, I see him slowly remove his fingers from my panties and press them to his mouth, seductively licking and sucking the taste of me off his fingers.
Something comes over me, something I’ve never experienced, but he’s just awoken a side of me I never knew I had or wanted.
I spin around and wrap my hand around his wrist.
With a small grin, hoping like hell it looks sexy and not like a duck-face you see on selfies, I tug his fingers from his mouth until I can lick them, tasting myself now on his skin.
His pupils dilate as I swirl my tongue around the tip of his finger before I pull it into my mouth.
I close my eyes and groan. Salty and sweet, with just a hint of whiskey and mint—the two of us mixing together, and it creates a taste in my mouth that I want to brand into my memory forever.
His other hand wraps around my waist, cupping my exposed rear end. He pulls me to him and lifts until my legs have to wrap around his waist.
I remove his fingers from my mouth and lean in, my lips against the column of his throat.
“So good,” I mutter, and press my lips to his skin.
“And we’re just getting started.”
He carries me to his bed, through the living room that I’m too distracted to take in—although I’m sure it’s as beautiful as the rest of the hotel.
Then he sets me down. My legs instantly fall apart, making room for him. We’re still clothed, my skirt still bunched around my waist, but it seems in mere moments he has me stripped bare for him.
When he stands up, I follow him and begin pushing his suit coat and vest off him. My fingers tremble, but I push my nerves aside while Liam stands tall in front of me.
I brush against the hard outline of his erection when I release his shirt from his slacks, and his hips rock forward.
“Keep going,” he states when my fingers find his button.
I look up and try to fight back my blush, knowing in the slightly darkened room he can’t see the pink creeping up my neck and my cheeks. He nods and his lips curve into something not quite a grin, but not a frown.
I want his lips on me, everywhere. Kissing me and licking my skin, re-igniting the flames he so easily pulled from me.
This man has pulled me in with the unspoken promises in his eyes and I want them.
I crave them.
I want to use him and everything he wants to give me just so I can forget. I want to let him use his body against mine to erase the pain and the doubt that has filled me.
I want to use him for my own sick need for revenge.
And hope like hell one night with him gives me the answers I need to move forward, and freedom from my pain.
But first, I want to return the favor he’s done for me.
As soon as I have opened his slacks, I push down the zipper. His hands curve into fists at his sides as my fingers reach into the back of his pants and I push them down, along with his boxers, of which I only get a hint.
His erection jumps as it’s freed and my breath catches.
I’ve only seen one man’s penis, and James has always made me feel good.
I take a moment, pausing in my pursuit to strip Liam, and wrap my hand around him.
There’s no comparison, and I shake away the guilt of even thinking of James with another man’s hard dick in front of me.
Leaning forward, I taste the head, slipping it into my mouth.
Liam’s hips rock forward and my hand tightens around his shaft. He’s large, with a few thick veins pulsing blood to the tip that my tongue swirls around.
“Stop,” he grates, and my eyes glance up to see his jaw hard and his lips pressed together.
I want to make this strange and terrifying man come apart under my touch. There’s power in being the one to give pleasure.
Power I haven’t always felt, yet I feel myself reclaiming what has been taken from me as I disobey the clearly clipped order.
I suck him in until his balls rub my chin and I pull out.
“But I like this,” I say, and stick my tongue out, tasting the thick saltiness that leaks from him. My hand drops from his shaft to massage his balls. They’re heavy in my hand and I roll them, teasing him with my hand and my tongue.
Liam groans, rocking into me, and one of his hands moves to the back of my head, tangling in my hair, and he holds me still.
My lips curve into a grin, and I know he’s trying to regain control.
“Laurie.”
“Yes?” I murmur, my lips brushing his engorged tip.
His hand in my hair tugs until I’m looking directly up at him. “You’re trouble.”
I shake my head. I’m not. I’ve always done the right thing. Been the good girl. Dated the guy from the wrong side of tracks and disappointed my elitist parents, but I fell in love and stayed loyal.
And it came back to bite me in the ass.
But I’m not thinking about that when Liam bends down. His hand leaves my hair and he picks me up and tosses me back on the bed.
I fall back, my head hitting the mattress with a quick squeal, and then he’s on me.
My vision blurs as soon as his lips fall to my neck and he sucks, then bites the crook of my shoulder.
His hands grab mine and they’re lifted above my head, pinned to the mattress by one of his hands, and he leans back. At the same time, my legs spread, and he rocks his bare hardness against me.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs.
I wiggle beneath him, needing him inside me. I need more than his fingers, and already I can feel myself dripping for him. It runs along my inner thigh, spreads against his erection, and when his lips drop to my nipple, he bites.
“Oh my God,” I cry, arching into him when he doesn’t let go.
It spreads pain and pleasure, an intense mixture, down to my sex. My legs tighten around his hips that are rocking against me, bringing me back to the brink without ever being inside.
