Tight

by Alessandra Torre

  I watched her. This is a mistake. I should be back in that alley. Or in the smoke of the club. Drinking. Watching. Doing what I came here to do. I wasn’t here for entertainment, didn’t court strange women into my bed. My head, my heart, didn’t understand that. Fucking should have a purpose, should contribute to an end goal. There was no end goal that would work in this scenario. She was practically from Georgia for God’s sake. Here on a bachelorette party, surrounded by a group of friends with eyes of hawks and sex drives of donkeys. A fuck with her would accomplish nothing, lead nowhere. The words my idiotic mouth had uttered in that alley would never work. What did I expect? That after a few hours in my bed, she would commit? Fill the hole that once held my heart? This woman who moved before me, the one who smelled of lilies and brown sugar, had her own life. One I knew nothing about. A life that breathed fire and independence. One with roots and commitments and, for all I knew, its own leading man. I watched as the elevator doors opened and she stepped out, my hand reaching, snagging the delicate warmth of her wrist, and dragging her to the side, rougher than necessary, my sudden need to know more asserting its dominance. I released her wrist when she stumbled sideways, catching her weight and pinning it against the closest wall.

  “Jeez.” The word came out as an annoyed huff, her eyes flashing as I moved closer, placed a hand on the wall beside her head, and stared into her eyes. “What is it with you and walls?”

  “What’s it about you?”

  “Me?” She lifted her chin, looked at me head on.

  “I can’t stop myself. I want to pin you and fuck you against every surface I come to.” I swallowed. Refocused my agitation on reading her signs.

  Her body tightened. Breath shortened. Eyes focused on my mouth. All reactions I was familiar with. Could read as easily as a financial statement. Lust. A struggle against the reaction, her mind arguing with her want, her eyes losing focus as she licked her lips to wet them. Good God. I barely heard her moan, heard the sound sigh out of her lips as she leaned against the wall, and I let myself do what I’d thought about for the last fifteen minutes. Tasted that sweet fucking tongue. Reached down and lifted her up. Wrapped her legs around my waist and carried her the short distance to the door, my hand fumbling with the key, our mouths fighting in their frantic quest for moremoremore. I turned the handle, pushed the door, stepped into the darkness and carried her to the bed. Tossing her off, I took a moment to catch my breath. Collect my wits. From behind, I heard the click of the closing door and, for the first time since meeting her, we were truly and completely alone together. I sent a short prayer upward for strength, restraint, the ability to touch her and be gentle.

  “Stay here.” His breath seemed harder than necessary, the wild look in his eyes enough to keep me in place, my own lust aiding in the desire to speed this process along. He stepped away, running a hand through his hair, moved to the doors at the end of the room, opened the slider fully. Standing there for a moment, his hands high on the doorframe, his head hung slightly as he appeared to think.

  I propped myself up. Made a conscious decision to ignore his directive and stood. Walked across the room until I was behind him. His back straightened, and he turned, his face dark, silhouetted by the lit night before him.

  I stopped. Looked up into the darkness that was his face. His hand reached forward, toward my face, and I flinched, his hand stopping a few inches away.

  “Relax.” His hand moved slowly, brushing down and covering my eyes. “Close your eyes.”

  I did. I closed my eyes and felt his hand drop. Kept them closed as I turned every other sense to high alert. “Good girl,” he said softly. “Keep them closed.”

  I did. I kept my world dark and tried to relax. Felt the heat of him as he moved closer. I inhaled, but only smelled ocean, the breeze from the open door washing the scent of salt and sea across my face. Then his hands brushed over my shoulder blades, tugging down the spaghetti straps of my dress. Swiped back across my collarbone as his firm fingers tugged at the front clasp of my dress. There was absolute silence as he parted the fabric and slid it down until my bra was the only thing on my upper half.

  Closer. I could feel the brush of his chest against the soft pillow of my breasts. Both of his arms wrapped around me as he unclipped my bra in one movement, the garment dropping, my breasts suddenly loose and free. His arms fell and the hard comfort of his body left me. My eyes flipped open.

  “No.” He was before me. Staring. Close enough that the shadow was lifted; I could see the reflection of the bathroom light in his eyes. They were tight on me, a warning look in them. “Keep them closed, Riley. For now.”

  For now. I released a slow breath. Dropped my eyelids until I was back to relying on touch, smell, hearing. I didn’t know why I opened them anyway. This way was so much better. I could let my imagination go wild. Imagine what I wanted. Enjoy what I—oh God. A breeze blew, the cool air causing my skin to awaken, the caress of the outdoors making this suddenly so erotic in its voyeurism. I didn’t remember which floor we were on. Didn’t know if it’s the second or twentieth, but knowing that the balcony door was open before me, feeling the soft brush of his fingers as they returned to my skin ... it was enough to make my nipples peak, the weight in my pussy heavy with its increased need.

  “You are so beautiful.” He almost groaned the words, the sentence cutting off my own gasp as both of his fingers circled and squeezed my breasts. Lifted them. I felt the rough prickle of his cheek as his mouth moved across their surface. A wet suction as my right nipple made its way into his mouth, his soft play of tongue against delicate skin probing and teasing, a low moan coming out of me when he bit the tip gently. I sagged a bit in his hands, my knees shaking, my desire to have him making a persuasive argument against the one to have him never stop what was occurring right then. “Wait, Riley.” His mouth moved lower, his hands released my breasts, and I felt the bump of cloth against my legs.

  His mouth pressed kisses along my stomach until it reached the line of my dress, and his hands were suddenly at the back of me, fumbling over and then finding the zipper, yanking it down in one movement, and the fabric fell, leaving me one wet pair of panties away from being naked in heels before him.

  “God.” A reverent whisper from his mouth. A mouth that was wasting no time in moving lower. “Spread your legs a bit.”

  I obeyed. Moaned softly when I felt the press of his finger moving aside the silk and pushing inside of me. One gentle push inside that broke any chance of restraint I had left. I opened my eyes, looked down to find him on his knees, and reached out, gripped his hair, and pulled his head back until our eyes met. “I can’t,” I gasped, his finger pushing deeper, hooking inside of me, his eyes watching me darkly, the edge of his mouth curving a little when my legs buckled.

  Thank God the man listened. He moved to his feet, pulling his finger from me and moving it to his mouth. Sucking on his forefinger, he stared down at me. I stepped forward, pulled his finger from his lips and replaced it with my tongue, the man taking my mouth as if he owned it, his hands gripping me to him, his kiss hard and dominant.

  I fell back on the bed, his body above me, knees moving to either side of me as he took a final pull on my mouth before sitting up, skimming his fingers down my breasts, the lines of my stomach, hooking into the sides of my panties and dragging them over my hips, his body rolling off me enough to free my body from the last bit of resistance.

  “My turn,” I breathed, sitting up and reaching for his belt. He obliged, rolling onto his back and letting me unbutton his shirt.

  I am nervous. I realized it as my fingers looped buttons through holes, each minor accomplishment revealing inch after inch of strong chest, covered by a thin layer of hair. He was a man, more man than anyone I had been with. My last boyfriend was a leftover from college, a frat boy turned pharmacist, who never let go of the shaggy haircut that every boy from the South seems to don like a badge of honor. This man, whose chest was strong and wide, his eyes dark and heate
d, his touch, which trailed patiently down my back, was firm and confident.

  I pulled at his shirt, tugging fabric from pants until abs were fully exposed, a line of thicker hair leading down the ripped path of his stomach to a belt buckle, a break of skin against dark fabric. I slowed down, pulled hesitantly on the leather, the cold metal of the clasp so foreign in this hot bed of sexual tension. Then his hands pushed me aside, three quick movements having his pants undone, zipper down, belt open, and cock out.

  The groan out of me was unstoppable. It rumbled, turned into a hiss, and then my hesitation was gone, and I pounced on it, diving with greedy lips, my frantic fingers trying to pull him down the bed, as I slid down his body and onto my knees on the carpet. I needed it all. I needed to feel the slide of skin against stiff, needed to feel it respond on my tongue. I wanted to taste every inch of it. Suck on his head until he gasped. Take him as far down my throat as I could, damn the gag reflex. Obsessively worship him with my mouth until he was half as hungry with lust as I was.

  I couldn’t believe I was doing this. On my knees, in a stranger’s hotel room, his body following my lead, sliding to the end of the bed, sitting up, his hand settling on the back of my head, pushing with encouragement as I took his gorgeous cock in my mouth. I was naked in front of this man, any prior relationship with modesty having jumped ship, his eyes nothing but worshiping in their perusal of my curves.

  He was almost without taste and my mouth worked hard, yearning for a response, the squeeze of sweet hitting my tongue. And, despite my subservient position on my knees, it was empowering to have his most sensitive organ in my mouth. I looked up at him, my eyes watering slightly as he took the moment to pull me further onto his cock. God, the look in his eyes. Singular focus on me. His mouth opened slightly as I increased the pressure of my suction. The ownership of his stare even as his lids dropped slightly, my name came out as a hiss on his lips.

  “Get up,” he growled. “I need to be inside of you now.”

  His hands were suddenly on my wrists, stopping my motion on his cock. Lifting me to my feet, I was on the bed before I could think, my back dragging across the duvet as he put me into place.

  A slowing of time. His hands firm and patient as they spread my legs, opened me before him. Any concern I had over my naked body, the pounds I really should have shed before hitting vacation mode in a bikini ... everything was wiped away by the shudder in his sigh, the look in his eyes as he drank me in, his fingers opening me up, his mouth lowering for a few back-arching seconds as his tongue dipped inside of me.

  Then he withdrew. Dragged his fingers down my legs and stopped at my ankle. Worked the strap with his fingers, caressed the curves of my foot as he pulled off the stiletto.

  “Is this what you want?”

  “My shoes to be taken off?”

  The heel dropped to the floor with a soft thud. I looked down, past the V of my legs, at the naked man before me, a hand settling on the outward jut of his cock, wrapping around its base, stroking it as he stared at me, met my eyes, for one silent moment. Salty air swept over my skin, my legs still spread, fingers of coolness softly brushing over my open slit. I was so wet I could feel a drop sliding down the crack of my ass.

  “This. What I’m about to do. Is it what you want?”

  “Yes.” I didn’t need to hesitate before speaking the words. I didn’t need to think, to analyze. I threw reason and safety and good decisions out the window as soon as I walked through the door to this suite. I traded logic for a touch that I desperately craved, a connection that was dropping that perfect cock and moving to my other foot. Working the straps to that heel. Fingers teasing the arch and ankle there.

  The heel came off in his hand, and he tossed it away. Gripped my ankle, moved his knees on the bed, until he was before me, his cock placed against the wet mound. His hands on my inner thighs, delicate movements that were turning rougher, stronger. He pressed on the back of my knees, lifted my legs until my thighs brushed my stomach, shoved forward with his hips, and dragged his hardness back and forth over my clit.

  I whimpered. I couldn’t help myself. I could feel the loss of control, feel the breakdown of my mind as pleasure took over and I became a loose mess of want before him. I was so close to begging, needed his cock an inch lower so badly I was two steps away from taking that matter into my own hands. “Please.” The word slipped from my lips as he continued, the underside of his cock now slick with my juices, the steady drag on my clit so perfect that my plea was suddenly counterproductive seeing as the only thing I wanted to do right then was stay in the moment until I broke.

  Shove, pull. Shove, pull. I propped myself up to get a better look, the eroticism of seeing his bare cock, head and shaft tight to the point of ripping, the muscles in his stomach sliding under the tan skin, the evidence of my arousal, my need growing. His skin in the moonlight, reflections of white in his eyes, the groan from his mouth that told me his self-control was as stretched as my own.

  I didn’t want to come like this. From just the rub of his cock. How tightly stretched was my arousal that just this brush with him could bring me to my knees? I pushed against his chest, squirmed underneath him. “Please, I can’t. I’m about to...”

  “I need it.” His gruff voice was close to my ear. The consistent firm strokes continued, the pump of his cock back and forth, back and ... OH MY.

  I stopped it somehow. Gasped for breath. Tried to focus. Tried to fight a battle I was seconds from losing. I didn’t know why I was fighting it. How I was managing. All I knew was that every second was incredible, and I didn’t want to lose it—couldn’t lose it. Not right now. Not just yet. I needed another ten seconds, or fifty, or five hundred. I needed this man to never stop anything he was doing, to—

  My elbows gave out and I collapsed, my back bucking, every muscle in my legs contracting as the purest form of ecstasy blinded my world, gripped my heart, and shuddered through my body.

  ***

  A metallic scrape. The rip, crackle. I saw a bit of gold flutter to the scrunched fabric of the white duvet. Moving my eyes to between my legs, I saw the hot brand of his cock lift, busy in his hands, wrapped and secured, then his hands stilled, and I pulled my eyes up, over his stomach, which moved slightly with heavy breaths. Up over the strength of his chest, the defined muscles in his shoulders, the shadow on his face, the swollen curve of his lips. His eyes, blazing with intensity, watched me carefully as he growled out a sigh. I didn’t move, didn’t pull my eyes from him, but felt the weight of latexed cock against my sensitive clit as he leaned forward slightly, a finger surprising me when he pressed it through the seal of my pussy.

  A moan sighed through my lips at the change in his eyes that occurred, the drug of arousal moving through them, dulling his spark, his mouth opening further. He closed his eyes for a moment, his finger moving slowly and deliciously inside of me, and then reopened, control reestablished. I didn’t want his control. I wanted him ravaging me, taking me harder, rougher, his strength untapped, sexuality grabbing hold and dragging him by his lapels to the throne of me, where he would forever be my sexual slave.

  “Are you sure?”

  I groaned in response, his finger cupping, stroking. My core so wet I was shaking for him.

  “Answer me. I need to hear it.” His voice was rough. Control shaken. Good.

  I opened my eyes and reestablished contact. Let him see the resolution there. “Yes. Please. Now.”

  He leaned forward, braced himself above me on the bed, his face a foot from mine, my vision filled with the beautiful look of Brett, and shifted his hips down slightly and thrust.

  Mother of—I whimpered, reached up and gripped his shoulders, pulled him closer as my mouth opened in silent exclamation. It had been too long. I couldn’t go without it for that long ever again. On second thought, maybe the reason this felt so incredible was because I had been without. But either way, the stretch of my muscles around his cock ... the heat inside me as he slowly thrust, in and out, back
and forth, my silent cries turning a little louder, becoming words, moans, begs, pleas. “Don’t ever stop ... Brett—I...”

  He gave it to me slow. Let me adjust before his speed picked up, thrusts roughening right at the moment when I was ready for it. I wrapped my legs around his waist. Dug my heels into the lickable meat of his ass. Squeezed the heat of his skin with my legs, stared up into his face as he buried his cock in repeated succession, the quickened pace containing an edge of desperation, of wild inhibition.

  “Right there, I’m about to...”

  I bellowed, the howl of a woman overtaken, and he groaned at the sound, lowered his face to my neck, inhaled my scent as my voice broke. I lost all focus, all ability to understand anything but that he hadn’t stopped, hadn’t slowed, was carrying me on this high which would not stop until it took hold of my soul and made me his own.

  He pulled me back to life, gripped my face with both hands, lowering his face to mine, and dove into my mouth. Kissed me strong. Ragged breaths between deep kisses, his cock continued its steady thrust, my hands greedy against his chest, scraping across the ridges of his side, scratching lines of need into his back. Then he broke the kiss, his hands tightening a little on my face, our eyes holding until a groan dragged from his throat, his eyes closing, head dropping, thrusts slowing and deepening, until he was buried and still inside of me. His hands dropped my face, my name rolled off his lips as he eased down, his body flush to mine, and it felt, in that moment, like we were fused—souls, bodies, and mind—completely together.

  My cell was ringing. I heard the familiar tune, the beats dragging me awake, my hand fumbling over the empty bedside table. I woke more, hanging half off the bed as my fingers tripped over carpet until they encountered my purse. I answered it a second short of too late. “Hello?”