by C. L. Donley
“Just relax, Amara,” he grabbed both her wrists and forced her eyes to meet his. There were tears in them and her breathing remained fractured. He couldn’t fault her, because it was just as intense for him, only he had had lots and lots of sex.
“Do you want to stop?” he dared to ask, his raging erection protesting in horror.
“No it’s just… God, it’s just too much,” she panted. He laughed breathlessly. “How are people having sex like this?”
“It’s not like this with everyone,” he explained.
“Just don’t kiss me,” she said, starting to calm down.
“Okay,” he agreed, grinning.
“Because it’s just… I don’t know, it’s too good…” she admitted.
“Too good?” he confirmed, with arrogance in his gentle voice.
She nodded her head innocently as he left the closeness of her warmth to try and even the score on nakedness. He crossed his arms at his sides and discarded his shirt, revealing his bare chest which was mostly devoid of any hair. He was pleasantly defined but not chiseled, as though he used to work out furiously but had stopped. His large hands locked onto her hips and pulled her close. Her arms shot up and around his shoulders as his hands perused her body. Now they were skin to skin and she enveloped all his senses, making him feel dizzy.
Damn. She was incredibly soft and he leaned in to kiss her again, but barely nipped her bottom lip as she pulled away.
“No kissing,” she teased.
“Shit, I forgot,” he said, making her giggle. “Lay down.”
Amara reluctantly left his embrace and walked around him towards the bed, hoping he was watching her from behind as she laid down.
He was.
He dropped his trousers unashamedly, his substantial erection protruding through his black boxer briefs.
Amara shrieked a little and drew her hands up to her face.
She felt the weight of his body sink onto the bed, hover over her form and settle down next to her. Next, she felt his hands on her belly and she tensed. He leaned into her ear.
“You can keep your eyes covered for this next part if you want.” he conceded, with a kiss on her cheek.
She felt his body shift over her again. She started to guess what was next as she felt his hands on her lacy underwear, pulling them down.
Here we go, she thought.
She sensed him stretching his long torso across her and heard a lot of fiddling, a drawer, the sound of a wrapper.
“What are you doing?” she wondered. She could’ve just dropped her hands but now she was committed.
“Shush,” he told her, intent on the task of easing a condom onto his throbbing erection. He looked up at Amara’s covered face to see if she was looking but judging from her energy she genuinely didn’t seem to be peeking. A smile drew up one corner of his mouth.
“Ready?” he said.
“Yeah,” she replied, almost like a question, sounding decidedly un-ready.
His weight shifted indiscriminately yet again. She suddenly felt the heat of his large firm hands parting her thighs wide. She willed herself out of a panic, her body trembling. Then, an appreciative growl as he cursed softly. She’d never heard him do that, she thought, as she involuntarily licked her lips. She let out a light gasp as he abruptly grabbed her by the hips and dragged her forward on the bed several inches.
Suddenly she felt… heat? Wetness? Holy shit was that his tongue on her—
Her arms flew to her sides as she used them to sit up and look.
When she did, her eyes glanced down to see Grayson, fucking, Davis, fulfilling one of her favorite workday-wasting fantasies. Her jaw dropped as she stared at his head, the top half deliciously serene, the bottom concealed from her vision by her own naked body.
She laid back down instantly in disbelief.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
She put the back of her hand to her mouth, her eyes going to and fro at the sensation.
“Oh my God,” she said again, louder this time.
The tip of his tongue zeroed in on the nub at her center and rapidly stimulated it for a long moment before he was back to sucking and licking and teasing.
She grabbed a pillow and put it over her face and shouted into it, “OH MY GOD.”
“Good?” he briefly asked, coming up for air.
She removed the pillow and let out an appreciative dirty sentiment. Then another.
“I’m gonna marry your fucking tongue,” she moaned.
The thin, frail tone of her voice was sending torrents of pleasure coursing through him. She continued torturing him with more choice words until he was eating like mad and digging his narrow fingers into her supple brown skin. He wanted to make her come but he was holding on by a thread. He pulled away from her and she gasped, partly from the loss of his kiss on her sex and partly because now he was kneeling over her, wildly naked and erect, his length shrouded in rubber.
He wiped his mouth and said, “Sorry babe, but I gotta be inside you or else I’ll lose my mind.”
Babe? Inside?
Amara laid back and let him situate her as if she were at a doctor’s appointment. He was hoisted on his sturdy arms, rather high above her she thought, and she didn’t know whether to look up at him or down at him.
Up, she decided.
She was as ready as a virgin could possibly get. His erection nudged impatiently at the center of her. One of his arms disappeared to steady himself as he entered, reappearing at his side. So far, so good. She started to feel pressure more than pain, and what seemed like an internal wall blocking him. A tender groan escaped from his throat. Amara’s heart skipped a beat and she studied his face, too timid to look fully into his eyes anymore.
“You okay?” he hastily asked.
She nodded. His weight shifted to his elbows and he came down to kiss her. He was only half paying attention she could tell, as she watched his eyes close and his expression morph, distantly aware of the taste of herself on his lips and chin.
“You feel so good already,” he coaxed into her ear. Her bra was still on and he loosened the front clasp without difficulty, running a pale hand across her chest and taking one soft mound into his hand and onto his mouth. She sucked in a breath and he moaned his approval as though he knew her thoughts. The sight of his tongue stretching out to tease her dark areola sent a rushing ache to her pelvis, and like magic he started to sink further inside.
“That’s it,” he groaned, “let me in.”
At that, another fierce tingling enveloped her middle and she felt her body accepting the rest of him, slowly at first and then with force.
Involuntarily her eyes shut tight and her lips went into a pucker as she let out a faint sigh. Grayson let out a furious moan that seemed to surprise him.
He lay still for a while as if apprehensive to do anything. He began to sway and move and then gave her a modest thrust.
They both let out a curse at the same time.
They were now suddenly, savagely, connected. Amara’s hands frantically traced his whole body as if he were a new appendage, while Grayson kept shocking her with intermittent thrusts, typically followed by a curse. He breathed in and out, he shifted his weight. Amara was ridiculously lush, tight and wet. He was now one thrust away from completely losing it. He had painted himself into a pleasure corner and didn’t know how to get out without embarrassing himself.
Amara instinctively started to lift her open leg. Grayson suddenly went rigid.
“Nonononononononono. No,” he exclaimed. Sounding strained.
Amara had to laugh.
“Tell me what I can do to help you right now,” she chuckled.
His head was down so she could only hear him.
“Just keep laughing at me,” he panted.
She did. Heartily and from her belly. When she did, she shed the last of her apprehension and she looked in his eyes as he raised his head, a faint look of… something in them. Amusement? Adoration? They were calm and
alluring.
“You’re beautiful,” he said.
“You’re beautiful,” she insisted.
The thrusts were back again. She put one hand on his face as she looked into his eyes, but soon had to abandon the task as waves of pleasure demanded her attention. She threw her head back.
Amara was intoxicated. Every thrust felt like a second spent in heaven, and she wasn’t shy about what he was doing to her. Her gaze came back to meet his. Her brow furrowed and her eyes went dark. She noticed he was watching her and her mouth went slack, tiny “yeah”s building up in her throat.
His short gusts of air hit her eyelids and the intermittent sounds of his aching pleasure sent her into raptures. He was in ecstasy, there was simply no other interpretation. The more she thought about what she was doing to him the more power she felt. And the more power she felt the more aggressive she became.
“Just like that,” she said. It came out in a whisper.
But he’d heard it.
He let out a satisfied groan as his pace quickened and his thrusts became more insistent.
Heaven began to stretch out longer and longer until the feeling was so potent and steady she could’ve sworn she was there.
“Grayson,” she pleaded.
“What, baby,” he panted, relentless pleasure turning him into a kitten.
“I think I’m gonna c—”
Amara exploded.
All she could see was the inside of her eyelids as an intense release of bliss washed over her. She couldn’t breathe or speak or even hear, and the pleasure continued to thrash her as if she were being mauled by it. Distantly she could observe Grayson’s own orgasm furiously tearing through him, seizing his body, making it nearly impossible for her to come down. The moment was ridiculously intimate, like two shell-shocked soldiers surviving an attack from a foxhole.
Finally, Grayson collapsed on top of her, slick with perspiration. When she finally found her voice she was overwhelmed with emotion.
“What the fuck was that?” she sobbed hoarsely.
Grayson, his face burrowed in Amara’s smooth neck, managed to lift his lips to her ear.
“Round one,” he simply said.
Without looking he raised a free hand until he could feel her face. He stroked the coarse strands of her hair until she was calm. With heavy eyelids, she turned her head towards his fingertips and kissed. Sleep had been the last thing on their minds since they’d first laid eyes on each other, and now that they were one it was the only thing they wanted. Their tranquility was immense, and it wasn’t long before a dreamless sleep had overtaken them both.
Nine
Chapter 9
Amara woke lazily, her mind willing itself to alertness in the pitch dark guest bedroom. The patio doors were still open, and though the scene was beautiful against the outdoor lights, there was something a bit creepy about it. As though she were expecting a jungle predator to come around the corner, having wandered in through the patio doors. She looked around for a clock.
11:45 pm.
Oh man, she slept the entire day away. She sat up, feeling slicked and sore in unusual places.
Amara….
You. Just. Had. Sex, her head reminded her.
“And it was… damn good,” she said aloud to herself.
She snickered, smushing her face into her pillow at the collection of new memories gathering. She emptied a scream into it that barely escaped. She felt other-worldly. The girls would never believe—
Her phone. She’d lost track of it. Was it still in the car?
The car. More flashbacks of the day shot through her. Sensation began to build in her groin instantly.
That’s it, let me in, he’d said.
Oh, my God.
Her head retreated back into the pillow.
Where was that sexy bastard anyway? She thought with a wicked smile. She got up and sauntered toward the opulent bathroom, gave herself a long look in the mirror before starting the water and shutting the door.
* * *
Grayson, on the other hand, had been up for hours.
When he awoke, the daylight had turned dark blue and night was close on its heels. He must’ve slept like a dead man because he was still laying on top of the poor girl and he hadn’t even gotten up to dispose of the condom, which never happens.
As he got up and entered the shower, he reflected on his million dollar indulgence with an unconscious grin. Worth every fucking penny and he still had four weeks to go. He noticed he felt full in a strange way he couldn’t pinpoint. Perhaps he did only need one night with Amara.
But then the sex started to replay in his head, and his erection was immediately aggressive in protest.
Amara was a natural. Her body was sin. She was a dizzying variety of sweet and innocent one moment and boldly daring and dirty the next.
It won’t be as good the next time, he cynically assured himself. They had unique chemistry, that’s true. But it’d also been a while for him, and the first time for her. It was the best he’d had in recent memory, but that could be a fluke. So convinced he was of his theory that he was willing to do it again, just to prove it right.
By the time his shower was over it was indeed evening. Amara was a shapely shadow amid the stark white of his sheets. Her locs splayed across the pillows and one long arm was above her head so that she looked like a character in a hieroglyph. Suddenly he wanted to rouse her from sleep in all kinds of wicked ways. So much for that “one and done” nonsense. Right then his mind registered the insistent vibration of his phone. Were those texts he was getting?
What the hell was going on?
Grayson found it in the pocket of his discarded blazer.
52 notifications??
He saw three texts from Dale. A lot for him.
Hey, bud. Some amateur footage floating around of u and A going to 3rd base in the convertible. Gr8 wknd!!!
Okay. So, Dale was pissed.
Wasn’t it his bright idea to bring Amara to the party? No culpability there.
Another right after it followed.
Tell A no need to return on Mon in case paps are sniffing around here. No one knows her ID.
He forgot Amara was still intent on fulfilling her notice. So dutiful. He snickered as he wondered how the third floor would manage without her.
The third was one word. All caps.
YET.
Next, he spotted an email from his publicist. Along with a pretty racy attachment.
“Care to comment?” was all it said.
“No.” he simply answered back.
Well, shit.
He’d seen a few paps outside the hotel… but they’d been followed? He was used to a certain level of scrutiny, but this seemed a little more aggressive than usual. Then again, he wasn’t usually making out in broad daylight. He smiled as he reprimanded himself.
Oh well.
The limits on his personal life were still what they’d always been. It would all blow over by the time the affair was over, he predicted.
He went to the kitchen and rummaged through his gargantuan refrigerator and found leftover Korean.
Score.
He fired up all six restaurant grade burners before stretching his long limbs at the dining room table and opening his laptop. Two bowls and three hours later, he was rewarded with Amara’s presence in the dining room.
“Whatever that is smells amazing,” she said huskily.
Her sudden appearance gave his heart a pleasant start, and he smiled.
“Well if it isn’t sleeping beauty herself,” he said.
She smiled and circled the table picking through various dishes before discovering which one held the rice. She grabbed a bowl and started to build, opting for the chopsticks instead of a fork. Her hair looked elegant sitting in a completely vertical bun on top of her head, a few long strands framing her face in the front. She was wearing one of his cashmere robes, a t-shirt and…were those his boxers? He scoffed.
“What,” she
lazily asked.
“You’re adorable,” he laughed, tenderness in his voice.
Laying it on thick, Davis? He thought to himself.
Amara beamed and bit her lip, and he was instantly ready for round two. She shook her head and looked up at the ceiling.
“Did we…?”
“We did,” he said, failing to stifle a grin.
“Daaamn,” she said with innocent eyes, looking out the panoramic windows at nothing but pitch darkness, and possibly her own reflection.
“How do you feel?” he said.
“Honestly?”
“Of course.” he smiled. It’s what he’d said to her that day in the conference room when she’d asked the same thing. Did she remember?
She looked over at him, quiet.
“I feel like I’m in love,” she simply said.
Silence. The tension rose, but still, he returned her gaze.
“Not with you, with sex,” she said. “What, did you think I meant you?” she asked confused.
“Ha ha,” he dryly replied.
“You should’ve seen your face,” she smiled, topping her bowl off.
“One prank and now you’re a master,” he said.
“All my things are still at the hotel, and I think I’m still checked in until tomorrow…” she started.
“I can have them brought here,” he suggested.
She carried her bowl to the window sill across from him and sat against it, rather than next to him. He gazed at her statuesque legs.
“My flight leaves tomorrow evening, but I was thinking maybe I could cancel it and… we could drive?”
“Yeah… about that,” he began.
Her heart jolted sickly.
No way he was done already. She wasn’t, not by a longshot. Jeez, did everyone except her tire of things so easily? She expected that from just about anyone but him.
“Or I can keep my flight,” she appeased. “And, I don’t know, maybe after work, I could—”
“You’re not going back to work,” he cut her off.
A jolt of a different kind went through her, and she wondered if she could die from all the adrenaline.
