“I—”
“Shhhh.” His finger covers my open mouth. I suck it in, swirling my tongue around the tip and then wrap my lips tightly over it. His right eyebrow twitches up once, revealing how much I affect him. I like the power. He centers his expression back onto me, no tells or weaknesses left to be discovered. This is sex in its most raw form—the act itself not a production, but the emotions he’s created engulf the room, swallowing us with it. I’m heady with lust and as much as I want to checkmate, his move wins. I want him inside me, filling me just as much as he wants to be there. His voice is controlled, low and serious. “If you say yes to keeping them, I’ll be nice. I’ll make your fantasy Prince Charming come to life while we make love. But if you say no, I’ll rip them to shreds and fuck you so hard you’ll never forget I was here,” he says as he cups me between the legs and squeezes. “Choose wisely.”
“There is no choice. I knew what I wanted when I agreed to come up here.” Silence fills the space between us, but I don’t just break it, I shatter it into a million tiny pieces when I say, “Rip’em.”
I gasp, startled, as my bottoms are ripped from my body, leaving red marks on my hips where the lacey sides were stretched just below my own tattoo. My head drops back, the sting of pain and the pleasure of his desire forging across my body. The bra is ripped down the center, the silk and lace no match for his passion. I smile, admiring how sexy he is, turned on by his strength. The man I met downstairs is not the same one ravaging my body now. Freed from all clothing—the barriers that once divided our desire—I lay bare before him, giving into my own carnal needs.
One swift jump and he’s on his feet, his briefs dropping to the floor. He’s not shy about his body. He obviously works hard to stay in shape, and I imagine many others have appreciated his efforts. Everything about him exudes experience, a master in the field of sexual stimulation. I’m not a novice and I’ve learned a few tricks as well as earned a few bedpost notches of my own. Being an attractive single girl in L.A. has its perks, but when my eyes follow the line from his waist down that muscular V to his prominent erection, I realize being a good-looking girl in Vegas is a total windfall tonight.
“C’mere, you,” I say, reaching over and grabbing his hand.
With one swift tug, he falls forward, catching himself before he lands flat on the bed. Dalton crawls over me and lengthens his body along mine, then rolls over so I’m on top. “Ride me, Angel.”
He stretches his arm to the side and grabs his wallet. Opening it, he pulls a condom out, and tosses the wallet carelessly to the floor. Sitting up, he drags me on his thighs up higher on the bed. After ripping the package open, he takes the condom and rolls it down his cock. He slides back down and lifts me by the hips. The man knows what he wants and I’m happy to oblige.
I’m just about to adjust on top of him when he says, “Wait.” He reaches to the nightstand one more time and grabs his phone. Scrolling, he smiles when he finds what he’s looking for. With one push of the button, a song I’m all too familiar with begins. I know every word and every riff. “Stairway to Heaven” was the soundtrack to a lot of trouble I got into back in high school. “Led Zeppelin?”
With a smirk in place, he nods. “This is great fucking music.”
“Great fucking music or great music for fucking?” I ask as his hands squeeze my breasts.
“Both.” He lays back, his hands sliding up the outside of my thighs, and says, “Take me to that place that keeps you from getting jaded. That place where you find peace without the demons destroying everything you thought you wanted. Take me there.”
Darkness fills his eyes, his gaze alluding to everything he doesn’t have to be any longer. I lift up and sink down on him, my hands pressed flat against his chest, wanting to smother the dark and cover it with light. Slowly rocking back and forth like the tempo calls for, his words lyrics to my ears, invading my thoughts. I drop my head back as his hands grab my hips, holding me down. The resistance causes inner turmoil as my insides begin to coil. Wanting more, my hands fall behind onto his legs, balancing me on top of him as we move against the other.
I let my mind drift with the melody, the fullness of him overtaking all other feelings. The music builds and my body reacts to the rhythm he’s creating inside me. The song becomes our anthem, a soundtrack to our moans and heavy breaths.
When I look down at him, his eyes are open, watching me, one hand roaming my body freely. The other caressing my tattooed skin.