by S. Layne
“I changed my mind. I want two.”
I shake my head, uncertain. I try to grasp onto my common sense before it scatters, leaving me a pile of stupidity and recklessness.
But it’s useless, because Liam takes another step forward and pushes the door open. I step back so it doesn’t hit me on my bare feet, and he enters my room, closing the door behind him.
“You can’t,” I start, and whip my head toward the door. “You can’t just come in here unwanted.”
His head tilts, his hair droops down his forehead, and I’m screwed.
“I’m not wanted?” This time, his eyes gleam with something similar to amusement. Teasing me.
I fight back my own smile. He’s not playful. At least last night he wasn’t, but what do I know?
“Unexpected,” I admit. I wave my arm to the cart he had delivered. “I can assume this is your doing, then?”
Liam takes his eyes off me and glances around my small room before he pauses at the hot tub and finally lands on the lingerie.
“It is.”
I take a step toward him, unable to resist. He makes me feel sexy.
I lick my lips when I get close and pick up the red lace babydoll. Running it slowly through my fingers, I can already feel my skin warming…wanting.
“Thank you,” I whisper and drag my eyes to his.
His face is void of the hint of playfulness. A serious expression and tightening around his eyes is all I see.
I immediately know what’s coming and my core heats, sending flares of need through my body.
“Put it on.”
My breath falters, but I want to do it, knowing while I turn to head to the restroom that Liam’s eyes are on me the entire time.
“Stop,” he says, his voice an octave lower—and if I’m not mistaken, there’s a slight hitch in the word.
I look at him over my shoulder and arch an eyebrow.
“Out here.”
A flutter of insecurity ripples through me. He’s seen me naked. But that was at night. The lights suddenly feel glaringly bright in my room, and the sun still shining through my windows feels obscene.
I press my lips together, rubbing them before I can look at him.
He simply nods toward the bed. “I want to see you. All of you.”
Feigning confidence, my feet falter as I listen. I can’t help it, even though my fingers are fidgeting with the lace. My body has softened in the few years since college. Where I used to love working out, running, and the occasional weights, those have been tossed aside for ten-hour workdays and too many nights of ice cream.
And while I like my curves that give me a woman’s look over a girl’s, and I’m not large, I’m also no longer a svelte size two, and that change has come with stretch marks that are easily hidden in the dark.
But still, even with the insecurity whispering through my mind, I do what he says. Because I can’t not listen to him.
He makes me feel something James hasn’t made me feel in months. Possibly years.
Exquisite.
I chew on my bottom lip when I reach the bed and turn toward him.
When I can brave looking at Liam, he has the champagne bottle in one hand, and a white towel covering the cork in the other.
He gives me a nod and as if I was waiting for the instruction, my body needing it, I begin to take off my gray button-up I’ve been wearing all day.
I undress slowly only because with him staring at me, I can’t rush. I also can’t make my fingers move quickly enough, and I fight to release the buttons while keeping my eyes on him.
Somehow, I know that’s where he wants them anyway.
It seems as if a lifetime passes by the time I remove my shirt and then my bra. My nipples pebble from the burst of cold air and Liam’s eyes drop to them. My thighs press together, needing the friction from the burning he creates with the simple movement, and then my hands reach behind me. I undo the zipper and push down my skirt.
It falls down my thighs and then my legs, pooling onto the floor beneath my simple gray slingback pumps.
Liam makes a noise, and I snap my eyes to his to see him staring at my garter belt. His throat dips as he swallows, and somehow I know I’ve caught him by surprise.
The thought thrills me and I can’t help but grin as my hands go to the clasp to release my stockings.
“No.”
My eyes lift to see him walking toward me.
“Keep them on,” he says, still moving. His eyes meet mine and they crinkle at the outer edges.
“Liam.” I hesitate. He can’t do this to me. I might not survive another encounter with him with the way he’s looking at me. My stomach twists and rolls and it’s not entirely pleasant.
When he reaches me, his arm moves to the side and he brings back his hand, holding the lingerie. It’s scarlet red and short and the back is covered with tiny, crisscrossed satin straps.
“Laurie,” he whispers and leans forward, his arm between us, handing me the babydoll. “I wanted nothing but this, but we’ll keep the garters.”
My brain turns to mush. It’s the only excuse I have when I say, “They don’t match.”
He shoots me a look that’s a combination of ‘do it anyway’ or ‘I don’t give a shit.’
Trembling, I take the babydoll, and he backs up to give me space to pull it on. My fingers scrape against the delicate fabric as it falls down my breasts and my sides.
It barely covers the apex of my thighs and I squirm, wishing it were just a little bit longer.
Liam tsks. “Now the panties.”
I cringe, closing my eyes. I can’t believe I’m doing this.
I can stop this at any time…and yet…I can’t.
I don’t want to.
Finally, my fingers move to the edges of my white satin panties that match the garter belt and the earlier disrobed bra. My underwear follows my skirt and joins it on the floor. I re-clasp the garter to my stocking and stand in front of him, clothed only in what he has given me.
I feel empowered, and at the same time, more terrified than I’ve ever been in my life.
Liam holds out a hand, and I grab onto it, needing him to anchor me to the present, where I don’t doubt and I don’t fear…I simply receive.
“I was planning on waiting to devour you until after dinner, but you in this lace and with those stockings have me testing my self-control.”
I glance at the dinner growing cold. It has to be. My lips fight a smile. “I’m really hungry.”
A quick, deep chuckle falls from his lips and I snap my gaze to him, surprised.
He smiles with no teeth but it’s the first time I’ve seen one in his eyes, too.
“Aren’t you just full of surprises?” he says and tugs me toward him. “We’ll eat.” His hands go to my hair, pushing it back over my shoulder before he brings his lips to my jaw. “And then I’ll enjoy you.”
My body shivers.
I want it.
It’s dangerous and stupid and a host of other warnings pop into my head.
James might have cheated.
He might have betrayed me.
But what I’m doing with Liam feels infinitely worse. This is planned, and I can’t go home and claim drunken mistake.
Yet I follow. Find myself leaning into his lips against my skin as they trail down the column of my throat. His other hand keeps me pressed to him, and mine lift to his chest, lightly raking down his suit until I fumble with the buttons and begin to remove it.
“If I have to be in this, you can be out of your coat.”
He pulls back and drops his arms. His smile is tempting and full.
The first one I’ve seen.
I want to take a snapshot and remember it—I won’t get many more in our time together. It lights up his entire face.
“As you wish.”
If only, I think, as he takes me to the small table and pulls out a chair.
If wishes were his kisses I wouldn’t be piling on poor decisions and mi
stakes so quickly.
Yet as we begin to eat the prime rib he had delivered, it melts in my mouth and my fears melt away.
One more night.
I will take what I want.
And then I will go home.
I nod to the champagne as we sit.
“Are we celebrating something?”
Liam flashes me a look before he hands me my glass. “I closed a big deal today for work.”
The thought of asking him what he does is on the tip of my tongue. His look is practically daring me to ask, but I don’t. I don’t want to know anything more about him than I already know.
I take the glass and tip it toward him. “Congratulations¸ then. I’m honored you chose to celebrate with me.”
The first sip of sweet, chilled bubbles hits my tongue and makes my throat tingle. It does nothing to quench my heated skin in his presence, and I have to force myself to not chug all of it.
“And your day?” he asks. His fork and knife are held in his hands with a firm but elegant grasp. I watch his fingers move, slicing through the tender meat.
I recognize the refinement in his movements and his clothes as I take him in. He comes from money and class.
I don’t know who this man is, but there’s a reason he’s confident and can get away with breaking into women’s hotel rooms.
Another question I dare not ask.
I want to be able to go home with only the memory of a name and a touch. I’m quickly learning that forgetting is impossible when it comes to the man in front of me.
Watching me.
I blush and look away.
“I’m surprised you’d want to know,” I say softly, and reach for my own fork. The prime rib is so delicious it almost melts in my mouth and I groan. “This is good.”
“And yet you’ve avoided my question.”
I’m surprised he asked again.
“Good.” I shrug and cut a small bite of asparagus. “It’s a conference—nothing exciting, really.”
He’s looking at me when I take another bite of the crunchy and delicious asparagus—assessing me, although I have no idea why.
Slowly, he nods. “Perhaps tomorrow will improve.”
I suspect it will. I’m excited to see Anne and hear the announcement I know she plans to make. She’s kept it secret even from me, which is not like her.
I anticipate exciting news once I see her.
“Let’s hope.” I grin and take another sip of champagne.
The rest of our dinner consists of surface talk about Chicago and what we enjoy here. I’m not shocked to learn he visits often, and I find myself mesmerized by his accent, which comes and goes depending on what he’s saying.
“You have an accent.”
“I do.” He grins, and I know he’s deepened it for my sake.
“From where?”
His lips purse and he takes an indelicate swig of champagne. A muscle on the side of his nose jumps and I pull back, knowing I’ve asked something he doesn’t like to speak about.
“You don’t have to tell me,” I say, at the same time that he says “England.”
“Oh.” My eyes widen. It makes sense now that I know.
“I was born there, lived there until I was twelve, and then I came to America.”
I sense that’s all the answer I’m going to get when he sets down his glass and pushes away from the table.
With his hand extended in my direction, I take it and let him pull me to my feet.
“So, Mr. Liam Parker, where do you want me?” I try for flippant but inside my stomach is flopping, and ravenous butterflies have taken flight. “I have a sense you’re not someone who changes his mind often.”
I press a hand to my stomach to settle them but they’re flying wild, untamed and uncontrolled.
So much how I feel like in this moment.
He closes the small space between us with two quick, strong strides.
“I take what I want. When I want it.”
“That I can believe,” I say, my voice now breathy.
His hand comes up and cups my cheek and he pulls me to him.
“Perhaps I should thank you, for giving me one more night.”
His quiet chuckle escapes his lips with panted breaths and it heats my skin.
I inhale, reveling in the way I can almost taste him when his mouth pauses before meeting my lips.
“It’s my pleasure.”
I laugh once, softly. Last night was about mine. I don’t think him stating tonight will be his is a mistake. Before I can ask, his tongue darts out and licks my bottom lip before his hand grips my hair and tugs.
My head is jerked back firmly and he sinks his lips and teeth and tongue onto my throat.
My knees wobble and I reach out, gripping his waist.
God. It takes only a moment before my sense is clouded by his touch and his taste, and I’m willing to do whatever he wants.
This can’t be normal.
I can’t be normal for enjoying it so much.
But every time his fingers graze my skin I don’t care that he’s a stranger, a man I only know by look and name.
My body immediately feels the urge to succumb to his every desire, knowing it will end in my pleasure as well.
“Turn around.”
I comply, unable to resist. Not wanting to resist.
For a moment we’re silent, until I hear the clear sound of his zipper and then the brush of his pants as they fall from his legs. His arm wraps around my waist and he pulls me to his chest.
“I think,” he says, and his other arm reaches down, his fingers grazing the edge of my stockings. “I’m going to like these.” He reaches into the top edge of my stockings and he pulls, letting it snap back against the back of my thigh.
I jump forward, shocked from the pain. I look over my shoulder as water pools in my eyes from the sudden movement. “What the hell was that for?”
“Just feel it,” he says, and he snaps them again. This time they hit my thigh in a different area and I gasp.
But the slight sting of pain spreads and warms my skin.
“Oh.” I smile. “That doesn’t feel so bad.”
“No. It doesn’t.” His mouth dips to mine. I gasp. He’s only kissed me once and I’ve begun to expect that it’s not on his list of pleasurable activities. But with his hand around my waist, keeping me to him, he keeps our lips connected, our tongues tangling together. His feet move us forward until the front of my knees hit the mattress of my bed.
He pushes me forward until I fall, my hands reaching out to brace myself before I hit the mattress.
“Just like this,” Liam whispers, his lips on my cheek. I watch as he reaches over and grabs a pillow. He pulls at my hips, lifting them until the pillow can slide underneath.
He runs his hands down my hips, caressing my rear end until his thumbs spread my cheeks apart.
“Liam.” I warn him, but I doubt it’d do much as he lightly brushes the skin of my crease, a forbidden area I’ve never considering using for anything other than its intended purpose. “No.”
“Hmmm…disappointing.” But he leaves that area and continues until his fingers separate my folds. “So wet for me already.”
I swallow. I know I am. I can feel my wetness dripping down my inner thighs as he begins lightly teasing me before he sinks his fingers inside me harshly.
I’m shoved forward with a jolt, my tiptoes the only thing touching the ground.
“God, you’re so beautiful, Laurie.”
My eyes close and I let his words wash over me. Tears begin building, but I take several deep breaths until I feel confident I can look at him without crying. All the while, his fingers continue teasing, pushing in and out, flicking over my tight bundle of nerves.
I’m being driven insane by everything I feel: the lace scraping my hard nipples, the soft, cool sheets against my heated skin, and Liam…his fingers and his breath and his lips.
It’s too heady and my head swims with pleasure as
he continues whispering about how beautiful I am. How soft I am. How he wants to fuck me again.
“Yes.” I want it, too. Desperately. My hips are shifting and grinding until I feel the beginning pulls and tightening signaling my release.
But just as I’m about to let go, his fingers leave me and I moan in frustration.
“Patience,” he whispers and the one world calms me even though my body is still beating for him.
I hear the rip of a foil packet and then he’s back, his dick pressing against me. I feel his bare chest and don’t know when he’s taken off his shirt, but his skin against mine is divine. I close my eyes, taking it all in, and then look at him with one cheek pressed to the mattress.
His blue eyes catch my gray ones and my lips part.
“I don’t understand how you feel so good.” His lips are twisted in frustration as the admission falls from them and he blinks, blanking his expression.
I’m lost, about to ask why this seems to upset him, when his cock begins pushing into me and I lose my train of thought all over again.
“Oh…” I moan, loving the way my sore muscles stretch to accommodate him.
“I know.” He still doesn’t sound pleased that I feel so good, so I close my eyes to avoid his eyes and his grimace. “Fuck, Laurie,” he moans as his dick presses all the way inside. “You’re so damn tight…so good.”
He leans forward and his hair brushes against my neck. Then his hands move. He grabs mine, twisting them and pulling them behind my back until they’re clasped together in one of his.
I can feel him everywhere inside me as he begins rocking hard and fast. My toes are the only way I can maintain balance, but it’s not enough to push back against him.
Instead, I take it. The position has him rocking so deep that every time he pushes forward, it hurts, and then rocks me back so my clit is rubbed against the pillow. The two sensations have my body igniting.
I’m aflame, set on fire from him, and it doesn’t take long before I’m screaming his name, begging and pleading. His balls slapping my skin is the only sound in the room besides our groans and pleading.
“Harder!” I cry, knowing he needs it.
His hand tightens around my wrists until it hurts and he pulls up. My back arches until just my breasts are touching the sheets.
