My hands move to unbutton my shorts and his eyes follow. Teasingly slow, I lower the zipper. Silently, I gauge his reaction—noticing the tick of his jaw when my smooth, bare mound becomes visible. Pushing my shorts over my hips, they fall to my feet. He drinks me in wearing nothing but a pair of red heels that bring my height to nearly six foot.
“Come here,” he growls, and the low demand has me stepping out of my shorts and in his direction. The appreciation in his eyes has my confidence soaring, and I feel sexier in his presence that I’ve ever felt in my life.
The moment I’m within his reach, his large hands surround my waist and pull me roughly against him. His head dips low, bringing his lips dangerously close to mine. The look on his face is smoldering--from the flash of heat in his eyes and the flare of his nostrils to his parted lips and intoxicating breath that leaves me feeling drunk.
His hands slide to my hips then around to my ass. Tightening his grip, his fingers dig into my flesh as he lifts me. My legs lock around his waist. My hands travel up his arms and across his shoulders—gliding over the muscular plains before coming to a stop on either side of his neck. His pulse races beneath my palm as my thumbs trail across his scruffy jaw—urging his head back and making his mouth available to me.
My tongue sweeps across his bottom lip, soothing it before pulling it between my teeth. He groans, and it’s the only invitation I need. Covering my mouth with his, I start to ravage him. But he slows the kiss—claiming my mouth as his tongue leisurely strokes mine. The control he yields makes the kiss even more erotic.
I’m not sure if it’s the sultry, permeating tempo of the song or if the battle to take his time is lost, but when he pulls his lips from mine, raw, primal need dances in his eyes. His animalistic stare is centered on me as he holds me to him with one hand, and uses the other to pull a condom from his back pocket. He holds it between his lips, while he loosens his jeans.
I force them down his legs with my heels, and my mouth forms an O when I feel him against me. The corner of his lip lifts in a sexy smirk as he presses my back against the door. Pinning me with his hips, he tears open the condom with his teeth, then spits the remaining wrapper from between his lips as he sheaths himself.
His fingers find my swollen clit. Rubbing slow, teasing circles around it, he kisses his way across my jaw until I feel his warm mouth at my ear. “Are you ready for me, Love?”
Yes.
Hell, yes.
But I can’t find my voice, so I nod. Sliding one long, skilled finger deliciously slow inside me, he takes my earlobe between his teeth. “Almost.” He adds another finger—stretching me…widening me…preparing me for him.
“Your pussy feels like satin,” he whispers, leaning back to look at me as he withdraws his fingers. He drags them up my body, leaving a damp trail of my arousal all the way to my chin. He pushes one finger between my lips—letting me taste myself. I suck it greedily. His nostrils flare and I hear a low simmering growl from deep in his chest.
I quiver in anticipation. I’ve never wanted or needed something so bad. My body is on fire. My heart is hammering. Every muscle in my body tightens as he presses the tip of his cock against my entrance. Ever so slowly, he pushes inside. My walls stretch to accommodate him. The deeper he goes, the more intense the pressure becomes. It’s almost uncomfortable, but it quickly fades—overpowered by a wave of pleasure that has me throwing my head back against the door.
His movements are timed and perfectly measured. The roll of his hips is slow and becomes almost lazy, then vehement and greedy as he powers the last inch inside me. He continues the torturous movement making my head roll and my nails dig deeper into his flesh. Then suddenly, he begins an unrelenting drive—savagely claiming me…not asking, but taking what he wants…forcing his cock to slide over that velvety sweet spot deep inside me over and over.
My hands use his shoulders as leverage—lifting myself before matching each powerful thrust he delivers. There’s no slow build or gradual climb to my orgasm. It hits me instantly—ridding my thoughts of anything that isn’t centered on this euphoric high. I’m screaming—shattering to pieces around him. When the walls of my pussy constrict and grip his cock, I feel it thicken as his thrusts become more intense with the pressing need to find his own release.
I open my eyes just as he starts to pulse inside me. He bites his lip to stifle his growl, but his eyes are unsheltered—hooded green emeralds focused directly on me and burning with a feral possession that’s as gripping as the orgasm still wracking through me.
He stills inside me—burying his face in my neck. His breaths are heavy against my hair. My limbs feel flaccid as they surround him. I beg the life to return, and silently pray he’s not ready to release me just yet. Loosening his grip on the back of my thighs, his hands tenderly rub the flesh that is indented with his fingers.
The moment is soothing. It’s almost intimate, making me grow uncomfortable. As if he can sense my tension, he pulls back. His expression is cocky, but a little guarded. My legs untangle from around him, and his hands slide to my waist to steady me. His cock slowly pulls out of me. I want to whimper, but I bite it back and offer him a cocky smile of my own.
“Impressive,” I pant, shooting him a wink.
He grins. “I try.” His voice is a low husky rumble that has me wanting him to take me up against the door once again. “Mind if I use your shower?”
“No. Of course not.” I’m shaking my head—a part of me hoping he asks me to join him. Instead, he gives me a smirk as he pulls up his jeans, grabs his cut from the doorknob and walks away.
I let out a long breath when he’s behind the door, and walk stiffly across the room to turn off my iPod that is now blaring the lyrics of yet another song by The Weekend. The room fills with silence moments before I hear the shower start.
A light rap sounds at the door. Pulling a silk robe over my shoulders, I don’t bother to tie it as I crack the door open. A Prospect stands on the other side—silent as his eyes rake up my exposed body. By the time he makes it to my face, I’m smiling warmly.
“Yes?”
He clears his throat and looks over the top of my head. “I was told to drop this off with you.” He all but thrusts a leather bag in my hands, before leaving quickly. Okay…
“Um…” Damn… I don’t even know his name. “Hey, sweetie, someone dropped this off,” I say, inching the bathroom door open.
“Thanks.” The word sounds strangled, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear whoever this patch-holder is in my shower is beating off. It makes me feel…inadequate? Is that the word I’m looking for?
Dropping the bag on the counter, I pull the door closed behind me and cinch my robe a little tighter. Inadequate…hmph. I dig my duffel from the bottom of my closet and pack it with my upcoming trip’s necessities. I’m finished and sitting on the edge of my bed when the bathroom door opens and he walks out.
Shirtless.
My tongue involuntarily runs across my bottom lip as my eyes travel up his legs shielded by a pair of sweats to his bare stomach. Have mercy. It’s thick, strong and flat, but not rippled in muscles. That’s reserved for his chest and arms. I’ve never seen a man so wide, or so tall. His skin is flawless, tattooed perfection. His arms are as big around as my waist, and his head is shaved nearly bald. He’s like a magical unicorn—unreal and only possible in my dreams.
“I’m gonna crash here tonight, if that’s good with you.”
Good with me? Damn right it’s good with me.
“Sure,” I shrug, knotting my fidgety hands in my lap. Something about his presence has that incessant need inside me building. But when he draws closer to me, it seems to dissipate. Weird.
“I’m just gonna head back up front.” I start to stand, but his eyes hold me in place.
“You’re with me tonight.” It’s not a suggestion or a threat, it’s just a matter of fact. His chin juts toward me. “Lose the robe. I want you naked.” Even though the demand should make me feel as if I’m some kind of fucking call girl he’s paying by the hour, it doesn’t. He says it in a way that’s soft and almost reverent—like he genuinely appreciates the way I look. Or maybe I’m just overthinking it.
“I need a shower,” I say, but he’s already shaking his head.
“I like my scent on you.” Son of a bitch… He’s like an animal—marking his territory with his smell, his mouth, his body and his cock. I feel a tingle deep in my belly. Shit… Who knew that would be such a turn-on?
I guess I’m moving too slow for him. Probably because I’m still sitting here, gaping open-mouthed at his caveman demands. Pulling me to my feet, his big hands unknot the delicate fabric before pushing it from my shoulders. “Much better,” he mumbles, drinking in the sight of me.
Reaching above him, he pulls the string on my ceiling fan—flooding the room with darkness. The distant sounds of the ongoing party happening in the front of the clubhouse seem miles away, but I can still hear the steady thump of the music, though I can’t make out the lyrics.