Promising.
“Why not today?” he pressed.
She gave him a look over her glass. “I know what you’re doing.”
“What am I doing?” he asked innocently.
“You’re hoping for rebound sex.”
“I’d be lying if I said I was opposed to it,” he confessed with a grin.
He was pleased to see her give a placating smile in return. It disappeared as she took a sip.
“It just…hasn’t been a good day,” she said softly.
“Fair enough,” he conceded, noting the change in mood.
There was a moment of silence as they sipped and eyed each other across the small table.
“Can I ask a rather rude question?” she asked, breaking the silence.
“Shoot,” he acquiesced.
“How did you get that little dent in your nose?”
He gave a weak grin. “Military school scuffle. Didn’t quite break the nose, but did enough damage.”
“It’s actually kind of cute,” she said, looking at him askance thoughtfully.
“You’re welcome to kiss it and make it better if you like,” he said.
She smiled into her glass at yet another corny remark on his part.
“So why did you ask me out?” she asked. “It can’t just be the sex. I imagine a man like you has no problems in that area.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he said with a smile.
“No, really,” she prodded.
He shrugged. “You’re fascinating, different—”
She raised her eyebrows questioningly.
“—as in not a swooning, or worse, plotting admirer. I think the bigger question is, why did you agree to come?”
Her forehead wrinkled in thought. “Honestly, I needed a drink,” she laughed. She raised her half empty glass to him, “So thanks for that.”
“Happy to help,” he said, raising his in turn. “Happy to offer another as well,” he suggested.
She peered at him with one eye squinted in speculation. Then she quickly finished her drink. “What the heck? If any day calls for more than one drink, today is it.”
“Well, now I’m really intrigued,” he said leaning forward. “Come on, you can’t leave me hanging here.”
She laughed. “Let’s just say, my sister picked the perfect day to pimp me out for rebound sex.”
“Okay, hold that thought,” he said quickly, raising a glass. “I’m getting us two more drinks.”
She laughed as he quickly jogged to the bar, re-ordered for both of them and jogged right back.
“Okay, you were mentioning something about rebound sex,” he continued, placing the drink in front of her.
She just laughed again. “Oh no, I’m not that cheap of a date,” she cautioned.
“I do have a trust fund that I have yet to tap into,” he replied. “I can’t think of a better way to break it in.”
He could see that the first drink was affecting her as she gave another laugh. It was a pleasant sound, feminine and musical.
She went quiet as she looked into her drink. Then she looked up at him almost shyly.
“It’s just that, I haven’t…there’s only been one man in my life for,” she blew out of her mouth, “ten years.”
“Well, I’d say you’re definitely due for a change.”
“Don’t joke,” she said seriously.
He put his glass on the table. “Hey. We don’t have to do anything,” he assured her “I’m happy to just sit and drink with a beautiful woman all night.”
She smiled. Her lips twisted as she looked off to the side of the room, some internal dialogue going off in her head. He sipped his whiskey and waited.
“And if, if, you wanted more…?”
“Well,” he paused. “We are in a very nice hotel.”
“Do you have…you know?”
“I was never a boy scout, but I do know a bit about preparation.”
She chewed on her—tantalizing—bottom lip. Then she finished off her drink.
“One more drink,” she said.
He was more than happy to accommodate her. He set the fresh glass of whiskey sour in front of her and waited for her to make up her mind. He could be patient.
She took it and drank a long sip. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she said mostly to herself, shaking her head.
Michael chose not to push it, let her come to it all on her own.
She took another long sip. Michael mimicked her move.
“You promise to go slow?” she asked.
“Scouts honor,” he said holding up his hand.
“I thought you weren’t a boy scout,” she said with a smirk.
“Right,” he said pondering that. “Well, you have my word as an attorney?”
She laughed, shaking her head. She looked at him and blew out her lips again, her eyes growing wide. “Okay,” she said as if giving herself a pep talk, “Let’s do it.” She threw the rest of her drink down her throat.
Michael did the same and quickly ran to pay the tab, before she changed her mind.
As soon as they were through the door London was on him. Despite her insistence on moving slow, she hadn’t been able to resist lusting after his body as she watched him pay for the room and stand far too close to her on the elevator ride up. It wasn’t because of Clayton; he was just the catalyst.
She actually wanted Michael Wright. She realized the only reason she’d never thought about white men before was because she’d had no reason to. Clayton had always been in the picture, taunting her with the promise of a permanent future.
Now Clayton was gone. Permanently.
And Michael Wright was here. And he wanted her. And she wanted him.
The door slammed behind them and she pressed her body into his, dropping her purse on the floor next to him. Even in her high heels she had to reach up to place her arms around his neck. She pressed her lips against his and could taste the unadulterated whiskey on his breath, mixed with the sour tang from her drink.
He responded just as forcefully, following her lead, as he lifted her up off the ground, bringing her closer to his mouth. They tasted and sucked each other’s lips, one tongue occasionally glancing off the other. She felt him harden against her thigh and she massaged her hip into it. He groaned under her mouth in response.
Her feet dangled off the ground as his hands slid down past her ass, still holding her up firmly against his hard body. Fists grabbed at her skirt, snatching it roughly up the back of her thighs until her panties were fully exposed. Fingers snaked up the smooth skin until the tips reached the hem of her lacy underwear. They eagerly felt their way underneath until each hand was securely inside the thin triangle of lace.
He gripped hard, claws squeezing and kneading the flesh of her ass. She moaned and brought her legs up around his waist before her body weakened under his aggression. With her legs spread open to encircle him, she pressed the area between her thighs into his pelvis wanting a feel of what was to come. The stimulation of the lace against her clit as it met the resistance of is hard abs was already making her wet.
He carried her over to the bed and she felt the thud as his knees hit the edge. He loosened his grip on her and she unlocked her arms from around his neck. Her body slid down to the bed, sitting on the edge in heated anticipation. She had no idea what would come next but every inch of her body was open to it.
Her curiosity was quenched when he fell to his knees before her and reached under the skirt that was still partially hitched around her hips. She fell back to accommodate him as he grabbed her panties and pulled them down her thighs. She moved to kick her heels off before he stopped her.
“No,” he growled, pulling her Jimmy Choo clad foot through one leg hole, “keep them on.”
He pulled the panties off of her other leg and threw the strip of lace across the room. She was lying there, wearing every article of clothing, with one glaring exception. For some reason it was a million times mo
re erotic than if she’d been completely naked.
“Open your legs,” he ordered, kneeling before her and gazing at her with such intensity it was almost terrifying. She obeyed, spreading herself wide for his visual exploration. The cool air of the climate controlled room licked at her soaking wet insides as they unfolded, giving her a tantalizing taste of what was to come.
“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured, running one hand up her inner thigh, making her body spasm with delight. He bent his head down to kiss the trail that his palm left.
“You look”—he kissed a spot on her thigh—“and taste”—another kiss, higher this time—“so fucking”—a lingering kiss, she felt his tongue dart out to lick the skin—“amazing.”
The last kiss was so close to home base, it was pure torture. His mouth remained on the spot of her upper thigh, only an inch away from her dripping pussy. The tongue made lazy circles on the skin, teasing and taunting her. She could even feel his, slightly stubbled, cheek grazing the puffy folds of her outer lips.
He was going to make her beg for it.
“Please,” she breathed.
That was all the encouragement he needed. His lips slid across the final inch of skin. The first kiss made her back arch so hard she had to grab his head for support. Once again he teased her, his tongue slowly lapping up the coating on her outer lips, savoring it like the world’s finest wine. Just when she wanted to cry in frustration, his tongue plunged through, striking her button with such rapid surprise she gasped. Her fingers reflexively grabbed the hair on his head.
He didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, he grabbed both thighs and threw her legs over his shoulders until her heels were hitting him mid-back. His head was cocooned by her thighs and it felt like home. She had no time to ponder it, as the next moment his expert mouth went to work on the tiny little nub of her womanhood.
With puckered lips he sucked the little man so hard out of the boat, it did backflips in the air, and came splashing down in a rippling orgasm that made her body shudder, and her voice scream out with something akin to pain. Tears literally came to her eyes as he sucked and flicked the exposed head.
Please stop, her mind begged, but her body wanted more, more, more!
She used the opportunity to embrace the newfangled sensation of the hair between her fingers. Clayton had always kept his cut short. Now she found herself pulling, tugging, grabbing, and intertwining her fingers through the silky strands. Politics on hair aside, at the very least, it made things very convenient—and she used it to its full advantage. After, yet another earth shattering orgasm, she reflexively grabbed with both hands and pressed him hard into her inner core.
He groaned with animal hunger as his nose, mouth, and chin were smothered by her body. She lifted her ass to rub herself hard against him. He reached under to grab her cheeks and push her even harder into his face. The workings of his lips and tongue, combined with her own grinding gyrations, sent fireworks through her body.
Just when she thought her body would turn into a molten blob of fiery lava, he moved his head back. She released the vice-like grip her thighs had on the sides of his face, giving him at least some relief. Her legs slid off his shoulders until they fell down to the floor, heels still standing at attention.
London was far too worn out to care about the indecent state she was in: work clothes completely wrinkled, skirt above her waist, trembling legs barely held up by a pair of heels.
Michael eased the transition by returning to his worship of her thighs, kissing his way down the same way he’d kissed them up.
“You,” she breathed heavily, “are just too damn good.”
“It’s all a ploy,” he murmured against the inside of her knee. “I want you weak and helpless.”
She laughed as much as her body would allow. “Mission accomplished.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
He stood up over her and she could see the desperate need for attention that his own body required. She worked her way up to a sitting position and went to work on the button to his slacks, hoping to give the poor boy some relief.
“So,” she purred, giving him a seductive look, “I guess it’s your turn, no?”
He smirked down at her. “Yeah, but not like you’re thinking.”
He moved in closer, causing her breath to grow heavy with anticipation. “I don’t think I’ll be able to get through the week without knowing what that sweet pussy of yours feels like wrapped around my cock.”
She smiled, knowing exactly where he was going.
“Now lie back down and spread those delicious thighs of yours.”
She was more than happy to abide, craving the exact same thing.
He rose up above her and she took note of the fact that he had yet to even take off his jacket and tie. It made what had just happened all the more exciting. Like they were two lovers sneaking away from work during their lunch hour to have a little afternoon delight. He stood above her, still between her legs, looking down at her like he wanted to eat her up...all over again.
“So,” he said finally taking the jacket off. “Ready for the main course?”
She bit down on her index finger and nodded up at him with a smile.
“Actually,” he said loosening his tie and ripping it over his head, “I could just stand here looking at you like this.”
She laughed. Then her mouth began to water as he slowly undid his shirt. She gave a soft breath when he revealed a well-developed chest with fine black hairs covering it. She loved the fact that he didn’t feel the need to “manscape.” This was a real man’s chest.
She began to undo the flimsy tie part of her collar.
“No,” he murmured. “Stay just like this. One minor adjustment.” He spread the legs between hers apart, forcing hers open even wider, so that her skirt slid further up on her hips and her pussy was completely on display for him.
“Hold on sec while I go get my camera phone,” he teased.
“Don’t you dare!” she laughed raising a foot and poking him in the chest with the high heeled end.
He laughed with her and caught hold of the leg, grabbing the area just beneath her calf and holding it against his chest so that her shoe was right next to his head. He leaned over to kiss it as he stared down at her with those blue eyes that were getting more intense.
“Do you want it?” he asked.
She just nodded again.
“I want to hear you say it.”
“I want it,” her own eyes getting just as intense as his.
“Want what?”
“I want you to fuck me,” she moaned.
“That’s what I like to hear,” he growled. He began unbuckling his belt. She started to slide her leg down, feeling quite vulnerable with how the angle was exposing her.
“Leave it there,” he ordered. She slid it back into place.
She watched as he went to work unzipping his slacks and simply reaching in to pull his dick out of his underwear.
London sighed in awe at the sight of it. She was about to get fucked by a new man for the first time in ten years and it was very apparent she would not be disappointed. It was definitely long enough, and so thick and veiny. The pinkish-tan length of it was something new in person (but nothing she hadn’t seen in the occasional video and picture, she wasn’t a prude after all). The dark, purplish head was pointed straight at her, begging for action.
Her eyes glazed over as she stared at the masterpiece he presented to her.
“Still want it?” he asked with a daring grin.
All she could do was nod this time, letting out the breath she’d been holding in.
He reached into a pocket to grab his wallet. After feeling around inside he quickly pulled out a square packet. He ripped it open with his teeth, pulled out the condom and slid it down his girth.
Once he was fully covered, Michael knelt down over the bed, pushing her leg up his shoulder and down to her own chest, opening her up even wider. Based on the size of his cock she was go
ing to need all the help she could get.
He leaned over her on one hand while the other guided him toward her opening. London felt him stroke it up and down her wet slit a few times, coating the head to make it easier for him. The next moment she felt the pressure as the round, bulging tip pressed against her opening.
She closed her eyes and bit her lip, gasping as he popped through. She reached up her hands and took hold of his firm biceps to hold on.
“Open your eyes,” he ordered. “I want to watch them as you come.”
She opened her eyes to find him staring down at her as he slid himself further in. She felt her walls expanding to accommodate this new and different invasion.
Once he was all the way in, he stayed there, letting her experience it fully. Then his own needs took over as he pulled out slowly, only to push back in again. He dug his fingers into the bedspread as he began to increase his momentum, bucking his hips into her, his broad shoulder ramming the back of her knee so that she could take as much of him in as possible.
London gripped his arms tighter, bracing herself for each hard impact. The swell of pleasure grew inside of her, as her g-spot felt the first strokes accelerate into a turbo engine of constant stimulation while he rode her hard.
She took the brunt of it, slamming right back with her own hunger and need for release. This was how rebound sex should be. Rough and hard and dirty. She looked up at him focusing down at her with strained concentration as she took hold of him with her insides and pumped him hard.
“That’s it, baby,” she cooed. “Fuck me.”
“Jesus, London,” he groaned in response as she brought her hips up to meet him.
She brought her second leg up to his waist, to pull him in closer. He fell on top of her, still pumping his pants-covered hips into her. The shift in position was just enough to bring her to the brink. Her hands slid around to his back as she dug her nails in letting the wave crash, with a loud scream toward the ceiling.
He felt the spasms of her orgasm surround his member and allowed the dam to break on his end, groaning loudly into her ear as he emptied his seed into the condom. His body remained rigid and tense on top of her until he was completely finished.
Mr. Wright & Mr. Wrong: A BWWM Romance Page 13
