“You’re so gorgeous.” His fingers burn up my sides on their way to my breasts.
Alex’s words float through my mind. She was right. “You’re corrupting me.”
“No.” He nibbles my collarbone and licks his way to my nipple. I arch beneath him, desperately wanting him to suck it, suck both of them into that hot mouth and devour me whole.
“No?” Because I feel totally corrupted. Totally unlike the me that I usually am.
I gasp when he takes a nipple and rasps his tongue across the tip before sucking hard, rolling it in his mouth sending sharp stabs of pleasure from my nipple to my clit.
“I’m not corrupting you, Rachel. I’m just going to fuck you for a few hours.”
A few hours? All the tension leaves my body at once, melting me to the bed.
His weight presses me into an even bigger puddle of want, but then his lips claim mine with the confidence of someone who knows exactly what he’s doing, and every muscle in me tenses at once. I wrap my arms and legs around him, pulling him tighter to me.
His teeth close on my tongue, the pain shocking my eyes open, and he lets me pull it from his mouth but I’m forced to drag it against his teeth to get free.
But when I get free, I want it again.
“Bite me, naughty girl.”
Tentatively, I nip his lip and he grins. I want it again, want him to bite me, so I thrust my tongue in his mouth, forcing the kiss deeper with my hand on the back of his neck. He presses his cock against my clit through my panties and when I gasp he drags his teeth down my tongue again.
My heart stutters in my chest and thunders when he releases it.
It’s like an adrenaline rush more than straight pleasure, but the combination makes me frantically grind my hips against him. My skin’s on fire with a need I’ve never felt before.
“What’s your hurry?” His words are teasing, taunting.
“I’m ready for you.” I’m so ready I can’t stand it.
“Are your pretty pink panties soaking wet?”
“Yes. Soaking. I want you. Now.” I nibble his earlobe, proud of how shamelessly I can say that to him.
He pulls back and kisses his way down my chest. My belly quivers beneath his lips when he gets there. “I’ll fuck you when I’m ready.”
No, I want to scream. Now. I need him now.
He grips my panties in his teeth and drags them down my legs. I’m not even ashamed of my nakedness or that I haven’t trimmed things recently. I’m too filled with longing and aching desire. And now that I’m stripped, I’m hoping relief will come soon.
But Dylan takes his time.I might combust.
My calves tighten then relax in his palms when he starts kissing his way back up my legs. “See, we hardly know each other. I need to know what sounds you make when I kiss you here”—he presses his lips against the delicate crease where my inner thigh meets my body, and my breath rushes from my lungs—“or what your spine does when I lick you here.” His tongue wanders up one side of my seam and down the other.
It arches. My spine arches and my eyes slam shut when he licks me there.
My hands turn to fists when he sucks my labia into his mouth.
My toes curl when he releases them and flicks his tongue back and forth across my clit in fast, teasing licks before locking his mouth around it and working me into a quivering, gibbering mess with his lips and tongue.
I don’t know how long he keeps me teetering on the brink like that. It feels like forever. I can’t take any more, and move to sit up, weakly flapping my hands at his shoulders to push him away.
He growls, and slaps my hands away. “I’m not finished. Your pussy is so fucking sweet, I want you to come on my tongue.”
That’s way raunchier than I’m used to, and the shock of the words nudges me closer to the edge. When he starts humming in time to the fingers he plunges inside me and curls against a spot I’ve only ever found while alone with my vibrator, I shatter, unraveling beneath him in gasps pulsing to the rhythm of the white-hot pleasure he’s creating with his hands and mouth and my body.
“Now, Rachel. Now you’re ready to be fucked.”
Eyes still closed, I nod and spread my legs wider, pliant, his. “Yes, please.”
He settles beside me. “Oh, no. You’re so goddamn sexy right now, all relaxed and pink with contentment. I want to watch you fuck me.”
“What?” I’ve only been on top once and that was in a very dark room when I’d had too much merlot. Any buzz I have left in me is from pleasure, the wine long since burned off with adrenaline. Discomfort slinks into my post-orgasmic haze, but the sight of him stretched out next to me with that thick cock reaching for the ceiling kills it.
I want that inside me. Now.
But what do I do? “I don’t…I’m not used…”
He grins and puts on a condom before holding out his hands. “Come here.”
Coming hard made me surprisingly weak, I discover, when I get to my knees and crawl the short distance to him on shaky legs, taking his hands and accepting his help, maneuvering into place on top of him, knees bracketing his hips. Being spread open like this in full light would normally make me want to dive for the blanket, but Dylan never looks away from my eyes.
Instead of awkward, I feel incredibly sexy and in charge. I’m up here naked and exposed, flaws and all, but he can’t tear his eyes off me. I still don’t know what I’m doing, and I look down at him, pleading.
He reassures me. "I'll teach you. Remember?”
I nod. Fumbling, I reach for his cock. His hand meets mine there and he helps me position him just right at my wet slit. I let go and place my hands on his shoulders, steadying myself, and while I do, he runs his cock up and down my crease a few times. The contact against my still sensitive clit sends aftershocks through my body, and my nails dig into his skin.
Dylan’s eyes half-close and his hands move to my breasts as I sink down onto his cock, working my hips to impale myself as it stretches me from inside in a delicious way that tightens my nipples beneath his palms.
He feels so good. So amazing.
I need this, I think. I need this memory of this man on this night to last me through the boring, responsible times ahead.
No regrets.
Uncertain at first, I experiment with my motions, rocking up and down until I find the motion that feels the best and makes us both moan. His hands slide down to grip my hips and guide me in an undulating pattern that rubs his tip against a place so deep inside me it almost hurts.
Something else I never tried but always wanted to? Talking a little dirty. Which, for me, means talking at all. Usually I’m silent through sex. I rake my nails down his chest and move a little faster. “You feel amazing inside me.” I feel like an idiot, but keep going. “So hard, and thick. How does that feel for you, Dylan?” That sounded terribly stiff, and I flush as much from humiliation as exertion, but he bites his lip and digs his fingers into my flesh.
“So fucking good. Mmm you’re so tight, and warm, and wet.”
Wow. “What else?”
“Your pussy’s grabbing my cock like it doesn’t want to let go. Turn around, I want to see that tight ass.”
This is new. I stop and swivel around, feeling less awkward when his cock is back inside me rubbing new places. Not being able to see his face makes this feel more detached, like I’m using his body for my own pleasure.
“Lean forward and work that ass.”
I do as he says and swivel my hips, hoping the show he sees is as good as he feels, losing myself in the rhythm for a few minutes.
“Christ that’s hot. You’ve got the most adorable dimples on your lower back. I can’t, I need to fuck you. Get up on your knees.”
His hand slaps my ass and I yelp in surprise—and delight?—and get off him. My pussy throbs in protest at the sudden emptiness, but he yanks me to the edge of the bed on my knees, stands, and shoves himself back inside so hard I cry out and brace my arms to push back against him becau
se hard is good.
Dylan starts pounding into me so hard that each thrusts makes a loud slap of skin on skin and yes,yes,yes.
His balls slap against my clit and I spread wider, pleasure uncoiling in my lower belly at how fucking good that feels.
He reaches around me, seizing one of my breasts, pinching my nipple. My pussy tightens around him. I had no idea I liked it rough. But damn, do I like it.
He fucks me until my hips ache and I collapse on the bed, not wanting him to stop. Dylan grabs my hair and firmly pulls, steadily increasing pressure until I rear up pressing my back to his front and he takes both of my breasts. “Rub your clit for me, baby. My hands are full.”
I’ve never done that in front of someone before, but my hands can’t obey fast enough, fingers frantically circling the swollen nub of flesh while he pounds into me from behind, kneading my breasts and stimulating my nipples.
It’s too much.
It’s just right.
I come viciously with a silent scream, unable to even exhale beneath the onslaught of sensations. Wave after wave crashes through me, and I shake with the intensity of it. Dylan’s teeth graze my neck and he shudders inside me a moment later, dragging himself slowly in and out, milking the moment for all it’s worth. Pulling me close, cock still buried inside me, he lies us down and curls around my body, nuzzling my neck as our breathing evens out.
4
I can’t believe I did it.
I had sex—amazing sex—with a stranger.
My muscles have never been this languid, and yet I’m energized. Parts of me are sore, deliciously aching, and yet I could go again. I trace my slightly tender lips. How did he get me to do all those things? I laugh silently, once. Like an orgasm fueled wind-up doll, he turned and turned me on and that was it, my mind was gone, worries were gone, all that was left was my body.
A body he made feel—
“That was amazing.” His husky voice breaks the silence a few seconds later.
I’m glad my goofy grin is safely out of his line of vision with him behind me. “Mmm, it was.”
He pulls out of me, making my hips twitch from the unexpected but pleasant sensation. He sits up and kisses my shoulder. “I’ll be right back. I’ve got to take care of this.”
I wait until he grabs his underwear and is outside the door before moving, snatching up my bra and the cutest t-shirt that hasn’t been packed yet, and rooting around for a pair of shorts, trying to move quickly to outrun any thoughts of regret or responsibility on my way through my apartment.
I get to the bathroom just as he’s exiting, and duck under his arm. “My turn!” I firmly close the door and lean against it for a second, knowing I’m being coy, but unable to stop myself. I need a minute to myself to calm my racing heart.
What’s he going to be like now that we’ve…been together? Stop overthinking it, Rachel. It’s a one-night stand. The less time we spend together, the better; there’s less chance of complications that way. Besides, he’s just some tough rocker wannabe. Who cares what he thinks?
My eyes are wild in the mirror, shining like they’re lit from within. My skin’s flushed and rosy, but it makes me look like I’m gently glowing instead of blotchy and red, lips sensually puffy from his kisses. The only disaster is my hair, heading towards rat’s nest chic, but I wet my hands and finger-comb it.
What a way to get a makeover. After a few minutes, I’m ready to head back out. Time to face the music.
“What’s this?” I gesture at the sheet he’s spread out on the living room floor and covered with a few dishes.
“Hey.” He grins at me, looking way too good in just his boxer briefs. “Carpet picnic.”
“I haven’t got much in the way of food.”
“You’re telling me.” He kneels on one edge of the sheet. “Luckily, I’m king of impromptu snacking. Have a seat.”
I can’t decide how I feel about this picnic idea. On the one hand, it would be easier to deal with the after awkwardness if he went on his way. On the other hand, I don’t think I’m ready for him to leave.
The second hand wins out. I sit cross-legged opposite him on the sheet, and accept the plate he hands me. “So, what’s this?”
“Peanut butter and olive cracker sandwiches.”
“Uh.” I poke at it. “Do I get a pass?”
“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.” His voice lowers an octave and he holds a tiny sandwich to my lips. “Open.”
Oh, boy, I learned that lesson tonight. I open my mouth to let him feed me. Salty, silky, tanginess erupts across my tongue. The cracker gives it a crunch that takes the edge off what would be an off-putting texture.
He winks and snaps into one himself.
I lick my lips. “It shouldn’t work, but it does.”
“Right?” He nods at the apartment, pretty much devoid of everything except cardboard columns. “You weren’t kidding about the boxes. He nods at the apartment, pretty much devoid of everything except cardboard columnWhen do you move, again?”
“Sunday, but the movers come Saturday to get everything. I’ll probably spend the night in a hotel by the airport.”
“You don’t seem that jazzed about it.”
“Moving universally sucks.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “But you’re moving to your dream job. I’d have thought you’d be a little…perkier.”
“It’s not my dream job.”
“So why do it?”
I slowly savor another cracker sandwich to stall for time. Talking about my new, refined life with the tattooed stranger I just slept with is surreal. Then again, he’s safer because he has no idea who anyone in the situation is, and he has no emotional stake in it—unlike Alex or my father. If I dared, I could tell him all of it.
But I don’t dare. I’m a different person tonight—with him—but not that different. So I stick with my stock answer. “It’s an opportunity I can’t pass up.”
“I hear that. You just don’t seem like the type of person who does anything she doesn’t want to do.”
Mirth pulls at my lips. “That’s a pretty accurate assessment.” I wash my bite down with a glass of cran-grape juice that’s unexpectedly sweeter and fizzy, and throw him a questioning glance.
“Snack voodoo.” His eyes twinkle in a way that makes my stomach flutter. “I mixed a can of sprite with the juice to give it a little personality.”
“Are you a chef?”
“No.” He drags out the word, seeming amused at my guess.
“Hmm. Then tell me, Dylan-is-not-a-chef, how did you become so skilled in the art of making something from nothing?”
“Well.” He considers, and I wonder if he’s imagining opening up to me the same way I was imagining opening up to him. “I suppose I learned out of necessity. I grew up without much.”
I swallow, hard. It’s an awfully personal statement and seems more intimate than anything we’ve done. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugs, but his posture is tenser than before—this isn’t something he’s over. “It was just my mom and me. Dad left when I was a kid.”
I look around the room and see the evidence of my privilege all around me. Even with most of my belongings packed away, it’s evident. The number of boxes I have. The quality of this blanket we’re lying on. The apartment itself is luxury. It’s suddenly embarrassing.
“That sucks.” I don’t know what else to say. I feel off-balance having a heart-to-heart with this man. I’m afraid of what words I’ll end up sharing in return.
Or maybe I’m afraid that I won’t end up sharing anything. That I’ll let this moment pass me by without connecting.
I try again. Try giving something that is real. “I must seem like a spoiled brat. I mean, maybe I am. I never thought of myself as a greedy child, never demanded new cars or designer anything, but I always had the best anyway.”
“I’ve only known you for a short time, Rachel, but I promise that you’ve done nothing to indicate you’re either spoiled or a bra
t. So you have nice things. I’m guessing your parents have money? That doesn’t reflect on you.” He shifts to look at me better. “What I see of you is someone who works for what she wants, even if she doesn’t have to. If you have as much as you’re hinting at, I’m guessing you didn’t need a career. It’s admirable that you pursued one anyway.”
His voice lowers, as he grows more serious. “I also bet you’re really good at that cello of yours. With all the things that money has bought you, maybe music is the only thing you’ve found you can truly own.”
My throat is suddenly dry. How does he know me so well? This stranger who’s known me all of a couple of hours? I want to tell him how perceptive he is, how well he’s hit the nail on the head.
But the words stay silent on the tip of my tongue.
Dylan finishes off a cracker, dropping peanut butter on his thumb.
I use the opportunity to change the subject. “You have some…on your hand…”
He extends his hand toward my mouth, sticking his thumb between my lips. His lids grow heavy as I lick off the peanut butter, swirling my tongue around his knuckle like I did around his cock not too long ago.
“That mouth.” The gravel in his tone says he’s remembering the same thing. He breaks into a song, something I don’t know about doubting I kissed my mother with “that mouth”.
I have a feeling the song’s supposed to be suggestive of something. Not only do I miss the reference, but I’m too distracted by the clarity of his rich tone. It sends a jolt down my spine, curling my toes as effectively as the orgasms he gave me.
“You have a really good voice.”
“So does everyone nowadays.” He shrugs off my compliment as if I’ve finally found something that makes him uncomfortable.
“No, I mean, like, really good.” I’m fascinated by his sudden shyness. Also, I want to hear more. “Sing me something else.”
He digs another olive out of the jar and pops it in his mouth. “Can’t.”
“Why not? Shy?”
He crawls around the perimeter of the blanket. “My mouth is busy with other things right now.”
Long Ball: A Secret Baby Sports Romance Page 17
