He breaks the kiss enough to reach inside his suit jacket, and I know he’s going for the cash, practicalities first. But I don’t want him to. I don’t want to pull away and put that money in my bag. I don’t want to cheapen this.
I push his shirt and jacket from his shoulders in one motion, and he doesn’t fight me, just lets them slip to the floor.
His body is divine. His skin so firm under my fingers, the tickle of hair so perfect against my palm. I kiss his neck, and he tastes as good as he smells. I feel his groan as my lips press to his Adam’s apple, and his stubble tickles my cheek as I sweep to his ear.
“I’m crazy about this,” I whisper, and he stiffens in my arms. “I’m crazy about you.”
“You don’t know me,” he says, and reaches for my chin. He brushes his thumb over my mouth as he stares right through me. “You don’t even know my name.”
Touché.
“And you don’t know me,” I admit. “But what’s in a name?”
His eyes are so dark. So serious.
“Amy Leigh Randall,” he says. “Thirty-four Brooklyn Road, EC1. Twenty-one years old. Two younger sisters, Gemma and Belle. Your mother is a nurse, works at Saint Richmond General.”
My mother is dead.
My stomach lurches. My shock is all genuine.
He brushes my cheek as he continues. “One credit card with zero balance. No driving offences. No criminal record.”
“But how do you…”
“You studied business and management,” he tells me. “But you dropped out last spring to take a position as a cattery assistant. I guess you like cats more than you like law, Miss Randall.”
“But I…”
I have no words. I don’t even like cats. I like dogs. His dog.
“I searched through your bag,” he admits. “I wanted to know who you were.”
“You searched through more than my bag,” I whisper, and he nods.
“In my line of work I have to be… thorough…” He pauses. “I understand if you wish to leave, Amy.”
But I don’t. I’ve never been further from walking away from him in my life.
“You didn’t have to tell me…” I breathe. “I wouldn’t have…”
“Known?” He isn’t smiling. He’s stern and serious, and so beautiful he takes my breath. “No, you wouldn’t have known. But you do now.”
I unbuckle his belt. “Why did you want to know me?”
He grunts as I slip my hand around his cock. I work him fast, hoping I’m doing this right. Hoping he likes this.
He rocks his hips, shunts into my grip, and he’s so hard. His cock throbs against my fingers.
“Why did you want to know me, Mr Brown?” I ask him. My voice is so soft, barely more than a hiss.
He tugs the neck of my tunic down enough to see my white lace bra. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admits, and it sounds pained. “Because this is sending me fucking insane.”
Oh fuck, how I smile. I work his gorgeous dick in my fingers and the dresser bashes against the wall with a thud, thud, thud as he thrusts back at me, and I smile. I smile at him.
“My name’s not Ted fucking Brown, either,” he tells me. “It’s Alexander.”
“Alexander.”
It feels so good to say it.
He pinches my nipples through my bra, and the sparks are electric.
“Fuck me, Alexander,” I hiss. “Please God, fuck me.”
Alexander
This girl. This fucking girl is sending me out of my mind.
I practically tear her dress over her head, shunting her against me as the fabric drags from under her ass. I have her bra off in a heartbeat, my mouth hungry for those sweet rosy nipples. I love the way her dainty fingers tangle in my hair. I love the way she moans for me and her legs grip me tight.
She wriggles as I tug at her knickers, and she’s soaking wet when I slip my fingers between her thighs. Two straight in, my thumb rolling around her clit as she tilts her hips for me.
I drop to my knees and her thighs scissor my head as my tongue laps at her. Her pussy is heaven. The way she squirms is religion enough for me.
I grab her thighs and lift them, tip her back on the dresser with her legs spread wide. She spreads her pretty pink cunt for me without being asked, and it’s so easy to suck that sweet little bud, so easy to make her beg for more, for harder. For everything.
Three fingers and she gasps.
A fourth, in her tight little asshole, and she cries out.
She wants cock. The hunger is in her eyes, her teeth gritted and feral as she hisses my name. My real name.
I haven’t heard anyone scream my real name in far too long.