Chapter 2
"Don't look so excited." He smirks.
"Jim . . . ," I stammer. Oh hell, how do I say this? "I'm not really the kind of girl who . . ." My voice trails off.
"Who fucks on first dates?" he says, finishing my sentence.
"Yes." I wince at the crudeness of that statement. "I just don't want you to think . . ."
"I know. I wouldn't," he replies curtly. "I don't."
"Good." Relief fills me. "I was being flirty when I thought we were getting off and never seeing each other again."
"Right." He smirks in amusement.
"Not that I don't think you're great," I add. "Because if I were that kind of girl, I would totally be into you. We would be fucking like . . ." I pause as I try to think of an analogy.
"Rabbits?" he offers.
"Yes."
He holds both hands in the air. "I understand; platonic humans only."
I smile broadly. "I'm so glad you understand."
Seven hours later
He slams me up against the wall as he struggles to pull my skirt up over my hips, and his open mouth ravages my neck. "Door," I pant. "Open the damn door."
Oh God . . . I've never felt this chemistry with anyone before. We've laughed and danced and kissed our way around Boston, and somehow he makes me feel at ease. It's as if I do this type of thing every day, and it's completely natural. The weird thing is, it feels right. The spontaneity of the situation I find myself in has me feeling all brave. This man is witty and funny and dirty as all hell, and in my opinion—which, in truth, could be totally screwed over with alcohol consumption at the moment—he's worth the risk . . . because I know I will never get the opportunity to be with a man like him again.
I've died and gone to layover bad-girl heaven.
Jim fumbles with the key, and we stumble into my room. Then he throws me onto the bed.
My chest rises and falls as we stare at each other, and the air between crackles with electricity.
"I'm not this kind of girl," I remind him.
"I know," he breathes. "I wouldn't want to corrupt you."
"But there is a drought," I whisper. "So . . . so dry."
He raises his eyebrows as he pants along with me. "This is true."
I stare at him for a moment as I try to clear my arousal fog. My sex is throbbing and pleading for his body. "It would be a shame to . . ." My voice trails off.
"I know." He licks his lips in appreciation as his eyes roam over my body. "Such a fucking shame."
He takes his shirt off over his shoulders, and my breath catches. He has a broad, muscular chest with olive skin and a scattering of hair that runs from his navel and disappears down into his pants. His hair is dark, and his eyes are a brilliant blue—but it's the power behind them that has me aching for him to take me. There's an edge to his touch that I've never felt before.
He's all male and pure domination. There's no mistaking who's in charge here.
Something about this man has opened up another side of me that I didn't know existed. I know he could have any woman in the world he wants.
And at this moment, he wants me.
There's no denying the chemistry between us; it's raw, honest, and all-consuming. He's hardly touched me, and I already know that this night is special.
Maybe fate has dealt me an ace for a change.
With his eyes locked on mine and in slow motion, he unzips his pants and pulls his dick out. It's big and hard, and my chest rises and falls as I watch him. My heart is in overdrive. Is this really happening?
Oh. My. God.
He begins to slowly stroke himself, and my mouth falls open as I stare, transfixed.
I've never had a man touch himself in front of me before.
Holy fucking shit. This is off the hook.
He lifts one of his feet to the bed and really begins to let himself have it. The muscles in his shoulders and arms flex as he jerks himself hard, and my insides ripple in pleasure as I imagine it's me doing it for him.
This is like reality porn . . . only ten times better.
What the hell am I doing here? I'm a good girl, and good girls don't do bad things with men like this.
We don't know the same people, we don't live in the same city, and I may never see him again, and there's an unexpected freedom in that. I can be different.
Whoever he wants me to be.
His eyes are locked on mine, and his jaw clenches. "Get over here and suck my cock, Emily," he murmurs darkly.
God, yes. I thought he'd never ask. I scurry to my knees, desperate to please him.
I don't know anything about this guy, but I do know that at this moment, I want to be the best sex he's ever had. I take him in my mouth as I pretend to be the deep-throat champion of the world. I fist him hard as my hand follows my lips.
It's been so long, and I feel my sex clench, my orgasm close just from the taste of his preejaculate.
"Fuck . . . so good," I murmur around him. "The taste of you is going to make me come."
He tips his head back to the sky and closes his eyes. "Naked. I need you fucking naked," he growls with urgency. He drags me off the bed and in one moment has my skirt and panties on the floor. He pulls my shirt off over my head and throws my bra to the side.
Then he stops still . . . and in slow motion, with his hands clenched by his sides, his eyes drop down my body. He drinks me in, and I feel the heat as his gaze skims my skin.
My world stops spinning, and I stand before him naked and vulnerable, waiting for his approval.
This is new for me. I've never been with a man who's so dominant and commanding. His eyes, his voice, his every touch reminds me of who I am with and how much his pleasure means to me.
I feel like I want to rise to the challenge, and the primal urge to satisfy him is taking me over.
When his eyes meet mine again, they're blazing with desire. An undercurrent of darkness and tenderness runs between us. Perhaps I've forgotten how a man looks at a woman when every ounce of his being wants her. Because I swear to God, I've never seen this look before in my life.
"On your back," he murmurs.
My face falls in fear.
He takes me in his arms and kisses me deeply as he holds my face in his hands. "What is it?" he breathes.
"It's . . . it's been a long time," I pant.
"I'll take care of you, baby," he whispers softly, which eases my fears. His mouth takes mine, his tongue slowly sliding through my open lips with just the right amount of suction.
My knees nearly buckle underneath me.
He lays me down and spreads my legs and smiles darkly as he kisses his way down my body.
I stare at the ceiling as I try to control my erratic breathing; no amount of alcohol could have prepared me for this. He lifts my legs and puts my feet onto his strong shoulders and then drops my knees wide.
I am completely open for him, and he takes me with no reservations and sucks hard.
I buck off the bed. "Ah!" I cry.
But he gives me no mercy as he drives three of his thick fingers into my sex and begins to pump me hard.
Shit . . . can't we ease into it, at least?
His tongue is on my clitoris, and his fingers are on my G-spot. What the actual hell is going on here? My body begins to quiver like a puppet . . . his puppet.
The man's a god.
My legs lift off his shoulders by themselves, and I convulse as a freight train of an orgasm rips through me.
That took approximately five seconds. Oh hell. How embarrassing. Way to act cool. He chuckles as if he's proud, and I throw the back of my forearm over my eyes to hide my face in shame.
He pulls my arm away and takes my jaw in his hand and drags my face back to his. "Don't hide from me, Emily. Not ever," he commands.
My eyes search his. This is too full on . . . too much. This guy is too intense.
"Answer me."
"What do you want me to say?" I whisper.
"Say yes so that I know you understand."
The air crackles between us. "Yes," I breathe. "I understand."
"Good girl," he whispers as he leans in and kisses me again. His tongue is soft stroking perfection, and my legs open by themselves once more. He gets up and takes four condoms from his wallet, opens one, and hands it to me. "Put it on me."
I take it from him and bend to kiss him softly on his dick before I roll the condom on. "You're very bossy." I smirk.
He smiles broadly as he falls onto his back, pulls me over him, and drags my face to his. "You'll fuck me first," he murmurs against my lips, "and then I'll fuck you when you're warmed up."
I smile against his mouth. "I only fuck once, big boy, and then I fall asleep."
He gives me a slow, sexy smile.
I straddle his large body as our kisses become desperate. His thick cock is up against his stomach, and he holds it in the air and guides my hips down over him.
Oh, the burn—he's big.
"Ow," I whimper.
"It's okay," he whispers. "Wiggle from side to side."
He cups my breasts in his hands as he stares up at me in what seems like awe.
I smile down at him. "What?"
"From the moment I saw you on the plane today, I wanted you riding my cock."
I giggle down at him. "Do you always get what you want?"
"Always." He grabs my hips and slams me down, and our mouths fall open in pleasure.
Oh . . . he's . . .
"So fucking tight," he grinds out.
With our eyes locked, he slowly moves me up and down, and I can feel every vein on his thick shaft.
His eyes are hooded as he looks up at me, and I lean forward and kiss him softly. "Do you know how perfect you feel inside me?" I whisper, and then I lick his open mouth.
His eyes roll back in his head. "You are one hot fuck." He picks me up by the hip bones and slams me back down on his cock, and I laugh out loud at the overwhelming sensation of being filled to the hilt.
"God, fill me up," I moan. "Give it to me," I beg. I love how he's losing control. It's making me crazy. And then as if in some kind of alternate universe, my mouth latches on to his neck, and I suck hard as I ride him.
He hisses, and as if he's completely losing control, he bucks me off and pulls out and throws me onto my back. He lifts my legs over his shoulders and slams in deep—so deep that the air is knocked from my lungs.
I smile. So he likes dirty talk, does he? Well, that just happens to be my specialty.
Game on.
I hold his face in my hands. "God, you've got a beautiful cock," I whisper. "Is it weeping for me, baby?" I whisper as I clench around him. "I can feel your pulse in it."
He gives me a slow, sexy smile as he pumps me. "I'm going to rip this condom off and blow in your dirty mouth in a minute."
"Please." I laugh as he pumps me hard, and in a moment of perfect clarity, he turns his head and tenderly kisses my inner ankle. We stare at each other as something intimate runs between us. A closeness that the reality of the situation shouldn't allow. "Don't look at me like that," I whisper to break the seriousness of the moment, "or I'm going to give you another hickey."
His eyes widen. "I better not have a fucking hickey, Emily."
I laugh out loud as I look at the huge purple welt rising on his neck. God, what the hell? I've been reading way too many vampire romances. "Will you be in trouble with your mother?" I tease.
He laughs and slams into me and hits just the right spot, and I moan. Oh . . . this man knows his way around a woman's body.
Every touch is perfectly placed and magnified. He knows exactly how to take me apart at the seams. He lifts my hip with his hand and circles deep, and my body takes on its own agenda because I need to come. Hard.
"Fuck me," I beg. "Give me that beautiful cock of yours. Harder," I moan. "Fuck, I need it harder."
His eyes close in pleasure, and he pumps me at piston pace. I grab on to him as tightly as I can as I convulse. He holds himself deep and cries out into my neck, and I feel his cock jerk as it releases.
We pant as we cling to each other, wet with perspiration, our hearts racing wildly together, and he smiles up against my cheek as if remembering something.
"What?"
"Welcome to the Miles-High Club, Emily."
I giggle as I kiss him. "First class is the only way to fly."
Jim smiles sexily down at me as I lie naked in bed. He's dressed, and his bag is packed and by the door. "I have to go."
I screw up my face and hold out my arms. "No, don't leave me," I tease in a whiny voice.
He chuckles as he bends and takes me into his arms one last time. We're not on the same plane back to New York this morning; his flight leaves early, and mine leaves late. He kisses me softly. "What a night," he whispers.
I smile as his head drops to the crook of my neck, his teeth nipping down toward my collarbone. "I won't be walking for a month—actually, a year," I mutter dryly.
He bends and bites my nipple hard, and I jump. Then he comes back up, and his eyes meet mine.
I cup his handsome face. "I had an incredible night."
He smiles softly. "Me too."
I reach up and put my finger on the huge hickey on his neck, and his fingers go to it too. "What the fuck were you thinking?"
"I have no idea what came over me." I giggle. "Your dick was too good, turned me into an animal."
He bites me again. "How am I supposed to get on a plane with a huge-ass hickey on my neck?" he scolds. "If you knew how many important meetings I have this week, Emily . . ."
We both laugh, and then his face falls as he watches me. I'm not joking—I don't want him to leave me. This man is everything I'm not looking for, but he's somehow ticking every box.
What if I never see him again?
How am I supposed to move on from a night like this, erase it from my memory bank, and pretend it never happened? I close my eyes in disgust with myself. This is why I don't do one-night stands. I'm not cut out for sex without strings—it's not who I am. I will never be that person.
I hate that he is.
"Actually, I have a scarf in my bag. Do you want it?" I ask.
"Yes," he snaps.
I climb out of bed and go to my suitcase and begin to rummage through it. He takes the opportunity and stands behind me and grabs my naked hip bones in his hands and pumps me with his hips. I stand and turn to face him. "I'm not even joking now—stay another night."
He traces his finger down my face and cups my jaw in his hand as our eyes lock.
"I can't," he whispers, his eyes searching mine . . . with something unspoken.
Does he have someone at home? Is that why he hasn't asked for my number? Uneasiness fills me. I'm not made for this one-night stand crap.
I turn my back on him and dig out the scarf and hand it over. It's cream and cashmere, and it's initialed.