by Sophia Gray
Like a gentleman, he opened the passenger door for me. “Do you have a car here?” he asked, his voice low and husky, telling me he was impatient but trying to keep himself in check.
I felt a thrill unlike anything else at the idea that I had something to do with that impatience. I shook my head, breathing heavily. “No. I took a cab.”
He nodded once. “Good.” Then he closed the door and I had a moment alone in the car where I noticed the interior smelled like clean leather with a mix of something just barely sweet, almost fruity. The dash looked like it was some sort of fancy computer and the back looked luxurious if seriously lacking in leg room. Not that it mattered, I wasn’t in the back.
The driver’s door popped open and he slipped inside, combing his thick hair back with a large hand—a hand that had just been on my body, sliding over my curves and skin like they belonged to him—before starting the engine. “We’re only a few minutes away,” he told me, and then we peeled out of the parking lot with a squeal of tires.
I laughed at the sudden movement and he looked over at me, his eyes taking a long moment to rake over my body. That look, hot and hungry, was enough to cause the laughter to die in my throat. My breath caught and I realized I was going home with a complete stranger. All I knew was his name, and not even his last name.
It was dangerous and maybe a little stupid, but it was so exciting. I thought my heart might burst. I had never gone home with a stranger before, never done anything like this before, but I wanted it. I wanted him.
I told myself that I was ready. That sex with him was what I wanted.
The drive there was quick but silent. It didn’t matter. The air around us was so charged I could barely breathe, and I saw his hand twitch once or twice as though he was desperate to do something—like reach over to caress my body once again. A thought that had me thinking crazy things.
We pulled up outside a high-rise building, like one of those fancy places you see along the skylines of the biggest cities. It was modern and sleek, with several trees and some weird metal sculpture out front. We got out of the car, Nikolai opened the door for me again, and he put his hand at the small of my back, guiding me into the building. He had to use a keycard to even get into the lobby. There was someone at the front desk idly flipping through a newspaper—Nikolai waved briefly and the man nodded in acknowledgement—then he steered us to the elevator, his hand at the small of my back, jamming a thumb into the button. He became impatient with the elevator and, no longer able to wait, his hand slid down over the swell of my ass and squeezed.
I let out a gasp just as the doors opened, and I saw him grin in the mirrors that lined the interior of the elevator.
When we stepped in and the door closed, he pushed me against the wall and kissed me. It was like fire all over again, his mouth tasting like butter and fresh snow and something sinfully delicious. I groaned into it, melting into him as his hands wrapped around my waist, dragging me to him.
He caressed my body, all over the top of my dress, driving me slowly insane. Just when he reached the neckline of my dress, his fingertips just barely skating across the tops of my breasts, the door pinged and opened.
He pulled away in an instant and escorted me down the hall as though there had been nothing hot and heavy going on in the elevator at all. Except his eyes darted to me every couple of seconds and I could see a fire burning in them unlike anything I’d ever seen before.
I shuddered at the heat in his gaze.
He led me into an apartment that could have been a house. It had to have been bigger than my house back home, much less my crummy, sorry excuse for a studio apartment I had now. It was furnished with modern black furniture, which included a large, plush-looking leather sofa, a coffee table with swirling silver designs etched into the top, and stools set out in a straight line of three along the bar portion of the kitchen counter which had the same swirling silver designs as the coffee table. There were lamps, too, with the same dim kind of lighting as the bar, though in normal tones, and a window at the far end of the wall across from us that was floor to ceiling and might have opened up onto a balcony.
That was all I had the time to take in, because when I turned around to tell Nikolai he had a beautiful apartment, I saw he was already unbuttoning his dark wine colored shirt. I swallowed heavily, my breath catching in my throat as he revealed a wide expanse of smooth, rock hard muscle coated with taut tanned skin.
“Are you ready?” he asked me huskily, his accent thicker with lust and hunger.
I wasn’t, but I was, and even if I wasn’t, I couldn’t resist him. Not now. Not when everything in my body burned with an insatiable need for him. I nodded, because it was all that I could do.
“Good.”
Chapter 4
Nikolai
I stripped out of my shirt as soon as I had the door closed, my hard member pressing against my slacks, demanding attention from her. She wasn’t the sort of girl I usually picked up from a bar. She wasn’t the easy, overly made up, tits hanging out type that always screamed sex and wanton, lusty desire.
Madeline seemed nearly the opposite of that.
Which wasn’t to say she didn’t want me, because there was no question as to that fact. I knew it at the bar, in the car, and before we’d gotten off that elevator. There was something urgent, almost frantic in her need for me, as though I was the first and only thing she had ever needed like that before.
My hands worked at my belt. By this time, she’d turned to face me, her eyes trailing over the hard muscles of my chest now exposed to her gaze. She looked flushed, her breathing almost ragged with want.
“Are you ready?” I asked her, my accent laced with a hunger that was beginning to drive me mad.
She nodded her head, her eyes locked on my hands as they tugged the belt free of the loops. I thought about using the belt in bed, maybe tying her up with it or just lightly smacking her perky round ass with the leather, but ultimately, I decided I was too impatient for such games. I wanted her now.
A sly, sensual grin spread across my lips. “Good.”
She sucked her lower lip between her teeth again, worrying it until it was a plump, rosy pink, and I knew I was going to have to do something about that. I was going to have to pull it from her teeth and soothe it with my tongue before nibbling on it myself. I decided I’d even mirror my plans for the lips between her legs.
I popped open the button of my slacks as I walked towards her predatorily. She seemed unable to move, frozen by my nakedness and my aggression, almost shy despite the way she’d all but thrust her body into my waiting hands at the bar.
But that was okay; I’d warm her up to me again.
I slipped the zipper of my slacks down so they hung loosely about my hips now, low enough that the dark trail of hair—trim, but definitely there—could be seen above the black fabric. By this time, I was standing right in front of Madeline, and she was still very overdressed.
I reached for her, my large hands sliding through her thick, silky blonde hair. “I would almost take you right here and now,” I whispered to her huskily, letting my gaze rake across her body, lingering on her lips and her breasts so she knew I was looking at her. “On the couch, on the coffee table, on the floor. It wouldn’t matter. Except I want to take my time with you. I intend to explore that full, sultry body of yours until I’ve had my hands, my mouth on every inch of you.”
She sucked in a harsh breath, her eyes wide, but not with fear. Oh, no, she wasn’t afraid of me. She was desperate for me. Desire filled every corner of her being until she looked like she might burst from it.
Good.
“Would you like that?” I asked, lowering my voice to little more than a low growl in my throat, twirling a piece of hair in my fingers.
She let out a shuddering breath and nodded, but I decided that wasn’t enough anymore. Letting her hair go, I put my hand on her skin, starting just below her soft jaw and trailing it down slowly across her neck. It was like fire igni
ting beneath me and it made me harder still.
“No, no more nodding. I want to hear you say it, Madeline,” I told her firmly, seriously. “I want you to say you want what I’m about to do to you.”
She opened her mouth, her lip quivering as her eyes worked hard to keep locked on mine. Her skin was flushed with bright heat, her freckles almost glowing with it, and I remembered how I’d wanted to see where else her freckles were.
“Well?” I asked her, teasing, but also insistent. She’d do as I said. “Say it.”
A little whimper escaped her mouth first and I thought maybe she wouldn’t be able to do it at all, too wrapped up in lust and need, but then she whispered to me in a tiny voice that was almost high on lust. “I want…you to…to touch me, Nikolai. Everywhere. I want…” She swallowed harshly, her throat moving beneath the fingers I still had lightly set against her neck. “I want your mouth on me.”
And that was all I needed. I jerked her against me, startling a cry from her right before I swallowed it by placing my mouth over hers. I kissed her as though I was drinking from her, parting her lips to explore the cavity of her mouth, tasting her and imagining the other places I would taste her at the same time. She was putty in my arms, clutching at me, her hands almost clawing at my bare chest as though she needed more of me but wasn’t sure how to get it. She was almost frantic and I loved it.
My hands went to her hips, jerking her to me so my almost exposed erection was right between her legs, only the thin fabrics of her dress and panties and my slacks preventing raw contact.
I shuddered at the promise of that.
No longer willing to wait for anything tonight, I let my hands move around her hips to cup the sweet swells of her ass. She moaned into my mouth as I squeezed her butt, then lifted her. Automatically, her legs opened and she wrapped them around my middle so her skirt had lifted up, leaving only panties between me and what I desired so eagerly tonight.
She held tightly to my shoulders, her short nails just barely digging into the skin there, clutching at me as I carried her from the living room to the back bedroom. She was so engrossed in me that she didn’t see the king-sized bed with the wine-red satin sheets or the black duvet. Not until I broke the kiss and threw her down onto it.
She looked up at me in surprise, her eyes hazy with lust, and licked her lips. I growled as I watched that small pink tongue slip out to moisten her lips and briefly I considered putting my cock between those wet lips so I could feel her tongue sliding against my shaft.
But I was too wound up for that and I didn’t want to spill myself into her mouth. I had other places in mind for that.
“I want that dress off,” I told her gruffly, about to jerk down my pants to finally free myself. But I paused when she slowly sat up, one thin strap slipping down over her shoulder, leaving it bare and tan and smooth, skittered by more soft freckles.
She looked away from me, shy once again, and with trembling fingers began to undo the front of her dress. I frowned, pausing for just a second. Long enough to think that was odd, but then she popped the first two buttons, her ample cleavage bursting forth, and I forgot what it was I thought was strange in the first place.
Deciding she was taking entirely too long, I jerked the front of her dress open, popping several buttons and making her gasp. Then I pulled her up off the bed just long enough so I could jerk the dress off of her, showing that her bra was white and lacy and matched her low-cut panties. They even had tiny satin bows on them and I almost laughed.
Definitely not the kind of girl I usually took home.
I popped the clasp of her bra with one hand as the other snaked down into her panties. She gasped, her skin covered in a delicate arrangement of freckles that was almost artful and deliberately placed across her body. I grinned at her and yanked away her bra. Her hands went to cover her tits, which were large and heavy, but still perky enough that I wanted to watch them bounce. My hand left her panties so I could grab her wrists, forcing her arms away so she was open to me again.
“No,” was all I said, then I pushed her back down onto the bed.
Her tits bounced animatedly, her rosy pink nipples already crinkled and hard. She let out a little cry of surprise, but I didn’t give her time to think or recover before my hands were back in her panties. I explored only enough to confirm that she was slick with her own need, then ripped them from her body.
She stared at me in surprise as the fabric tore, but she didn’t complain. Instead, she just groaned what sounded like my name.
“I’m hungry to taste you, Madeline,” I told her as I lifted her legs, hooking them so the knees were bent and slid over my shoulders. My hands gripping at her smooth thighs, her breathing rapid, I dipped my head lower, and when my tongue slid across her, she jerked up towards me and cried out what I knew was my name.
“Nikolai!”
After that, she was a writhing mess beneath me. I tasted her—sweet and tangy and delicious—devouring her lips and even sliding my tongue into her opening, which was so tight, like she’d never even had anything in there before. It was wonderful.
After a few minutes of her crying and whimpering and begging, undulating beneath my ministrations, my mouth focused her clit. I sucked at it and rolled it around my tongue while I slipped a single thick finger inside her. She tensed at the intrusion at first, but as I continued to fondle and suck at her, she relaxed quickly and continued her moans of pleasure.
God, she was tight, and for a moment I worried that my significant size would hurt her. Deciding to open her a little wider first, I added a second finger. Again, she tensed, but she relaxed almost immediately as I sucked at her. I must have kept my face between her legs for ten or fifteen minutes, simply devouring her quivering pussy. I’d added three of my thick fingers by this time, curling them and uncurling them inside her, making her wanton with lust. I made her come once and took a moment to indulge in that release while letting her recover.
When she was still coming down off her high, I removed my mouth and my fingers. She whimpered at the loss, calling for me. She didn’t even sound like she knew what she was asking for, but it didn’t matter. I knew what she wanted.
I stood and jerked my pants down, letting my aching, dripping erection spring free finally. The sound of the fabric hitting the floor must have caught her attention, because her eyes snapped open and focused first on my face, then lower to my erect cock. She sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes wide, but she didn’t protest when I settled between her legs, this time our hips lining up.
She shuddered as I slid my cock along her folds, moistening it before positioning myself at her opening. There was a moment where I could have sworn there was fear in her eyes. It was enough to make me pause.
“You can tell me to stop,” I said to her huskily, though my body was screaming to just drive into her until we were both lost in oblivion. Still, I may have been the kind of man to indulge in the pleasures of women, taking what I wanted when I wanted it, but I never wanted something from a woman who didn’t want it, too.
“No, please don’t stop,” she said, and that was enough.
I pushed the bulbous head between her folds and popped inside of her, her pussy so tight that I groaned at having just that little bit in her. She had tensed again, so I gave her a moment to adjust. My hands massaged her thighs, her hips, her perfect tits. I rolled them around on my palms and pinched at the nipples until she was whimpering again, relaxed enough once more for me to add more of myself inside of her.
It seemed to take an agonizing eternity before I was fully sheathed inside of her, but when I was, I could feel the very back of her. Her hands had found their way around my neck, clutching herself to me tightly. Her bare breasts pressed against my chest, feeling perfect and soft and making me want to do more things with those. Later. Because right now, my dick was inside of her, and that was almost more than I could handle.
When I began my thrusts, short and insistent, she cried out every time, holding on to me
tightly. But the problem with that was I couldn’t see much of her. And I really wanted to. Getting a hold of her wrists, I pulled her hands away from me and pinned them above her head, exposing her bare, perfect body to my hungry gaze.
“I need to see you,” I told her simply, and before she could say one way or the other, the pace and depth of my thrusts increased.
She threw her head back, her blonde locks splayed out across the bed as her mouth formed a perfect little ‘o’ that I decided, one day, I would slide myself into.
She was making little mewling noises, incoherent begging, as I made her mine for the night. Her body was so tight and so much smaller than mine, perfect and better than anything I would have imagined on my own. Her breasts bounced and rolled, their movement erotic, sensual. I decided I wanted to try her from behind—but only if there was a mirror. Because I still wanted to see her. I wanted to see her breasts hanging low, bouncing heavily as I pounded into her, and I wanted her to be able to see me, too.
