“Say you want me to fuck you,” I remembered him saying. He pinched my nipples and the torturous bliss shot down my body, making my clit throb harder for relief. His length pressed hard against my slit, nudging at my entrance.
Time slowed down in the moments that I sat there astride his lap with hands that tortured as he touched me everywhere. I’d never felt so needy, so desperate, so consumed.
“Open your eyes,” he grumbled. Those green eyes were sobering, staring at me as if he knew I needed this, and he didn’t want me to miss a moment of what was happening between us. His eyes seemed to hypnotize every nerve in my body—the chorus of excitement vibrated through my core, whispering my need into every closed-off part of my heart.
I’d never had anyone look at me like that before.
Never.
I couldn’t tell whether those eyes were building me up or breaking me down. Giving me courage or stealing a piece of me.
His fingers traced the outside of my mouth, dipping between my lips. I licked against the submerged fingers, tasting the salt and whiskey still lingering on his thick digits. I watched his mouth move. He was speaking, but all I could focus on was the path those same fingers traveled.
“Or, I could take you here.” His finger dipped in my depths, shocking me with its blunt intrusion. My body jerked with his abrasive entry. His chest shook with suppressed laughter, and his smile quickly morphed into a smirk as he brought that one finger back up to his lips.
I remembered staring into his eyes as his other hand dropped between the cheeks of my ass, stopping just before he reached that forbidden, elusive area. Words froze in my throat. I just didn’t know if they were to encourage him to press forward or to slow things down. Suddenly with his hand right there it felt like things were moving faster than my mind could process.
His eyes sparked with a lust that overwhelmed me with its brilliance. Even drunk, I could tell he was a man that either saw boundaries and didn’t care or saw them and purposefully trespassed—I didn’t know which was scarier, but there was still something thrilling in the way he unapologetically touched me. As if the touch of my skin compelled him to press harder, go farther, test the invisible boundaries set by two strangers.
I didn’t pick up on everything he said, but the things I heard sent my mind into a tailspin of carnal delight.
“Would you like my thick cock to fuck you here…I promise you’ll like everything I do to you. Don’t hide from me.”
He worked into me slowly, his eyes never straying, never blinking. I clenched down on him, my body greedily pulling him in farther, but his movements didn’t speed up.
His hips worked like a bow of a ship breaking through clambering waves.
My feverish hands clawed at his back.
Skin slid across sweat-soaked skin.
Expletives and panting.
Toes curled.
Harder.
Deeper.
Tighter.
“Come. Come for me, pretty bird.”
Stars burst behind my eyes, swirling against the darkness that threatened to pull me under. His hands found the middle of my back and his shouts followed mine, announcing his own release.
Chapter Two
“Knock, knock,” his voice rang through the partially closed door. I appreciated that he didn’t start immediately treating this place like it was his home just because we were forced into this situation together. Although, he didn’t really strike me as someone that was that respectful, but what did I know? It was my first one-night stand after all. I had no idea what was standard protocol, except I was sure that most one-night stands didn’t accidentally turn into a staycation due to natural disasters.
“You may come in,” I said so softly I was unsure if the sound of my voice reached him, even beneath the half-inch gap under the door.
I sat at the edge of the bed, one foot tipping toward the floor while the other foot rested comfortably beneath my butt. The covers were cradled against my back. The same covers I remembered tussling last night in our melee.
Once again, he strode into the room comfortably, taking a seat next to me—his long legs allowing his feet to come to a stiff rest against the beige tiled floors.
“I’ll start first. Hi, my name is Joel.” He turned and pushed his hand toward me, and all I could think about were those hands—how they brandished my skin, how they brought me to the peak before tossing me into the abyss. Their size, his touch, that mouth. I turned away, flushed by my turning thoughts. Can he read my face? Can he see what I am thinking about? Does he know how affected I am by him? How am I going to be able to spend more than a day with a man like him? Maybe Kerri was right and I got in too deep thinking I could take on a man like him. It wasn’t like I propositioned him though; he was the one who sought me out.
“Is it safe to assume your memories are returning?”
I whipped my head back, and he held a smug grin as if this was all so amusing for him.
“There’s no reason to be shy,” he said, pulling a long lock of my tawny hair between his thick fingers. “We’re both adults here, pretty bird, and last night doesn’t have to be a one time thing. It’s not like we’re going anywhere.”
I slid my hands over the waterfall of hair that was dripping through his fingers. Yanking my hand down, the hair escaped his fingers and fell back against my shoulders. My hand fell into his, and I moved to shake his hand while introducing myself. His hand was surprisingly warm, and I tried to ignore how his hand could encapsulate mine from every angle. They were that huge, but they were also soft and comforting, in a way that made me feel self-conscious and uncomfortable. I just didn’t know if it was from the fact that I was now stuck there with that man, Joel, or if it was because of all the things I was sure his hands had done to me the night before but couldn’t remember.
“My name is Blaire, and last night won’t be happening again. Actually, it would be beneficial if we come up with some ground rules for the foreseeable future, however long that may be.” I ended my sentence on more of a grumble, still disbelieving my luck would be so bad that I would be the one person to be stuck with a one-night stand. This was the stuff of some made-for-TV special—this was no romantic comedy, though. This was real life, and I was really stuck with him.
Within a matter of minutes our hands had moved from shaking to holding, as I worked through what the next few weeks would look like. His thumb worked over the back of my hand, rubbing small circles that calmed me to the point that I could melt into the sheets beneath where I sat.
I tugged my hand from his. Rules. We need rules. I couldn’t allow myself to get comfortable with him. That wasn’t part of my plan. He was supposed to be a one-and-done. I had no room in my life for anything more, and I could see how being with him for more than a day could have a girl questioning all of her priorities, but I was dedicated. I had goals.
Folding both my hands in my lap, I worked through a quick rundown of rules that would definitely need to be established up front.
“Okay, rules. Lay it on me.”
“You’re a big guy, so…”
“I’m glad you noticed,” he said, looking across his still exposed flesh, which was barely covered by a few scraps of fabric that bundled tightly against his crown jewels. Enough to show that something about my statement had left him excited. My eyes pulled back up to his, and he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
I should have realized then what trouble he would be, but instead I urged on about rules, sure that limiters would calm his libido and my mind’s inquisition into what happened once the clothes came off the night before.