“Stay here.” His breath seemed harder than necessary, the wild look in his eyes enough to keep me in place, my own lust aiding in the desire to speed this process along. He stepped away, running a hand through his hair, moved to the doors at the end of the room, opened the slider fully. Standing there for a moment, his hands high on the doorframe, his head hung slightly as he appeared to think.
I propped myself up. Made a conscious decision to ignore his directive and stood. Walked across the room until I was behind him. His back straightened, and he turned, his face dark, silhouetted by the lit night before him.
I stopped. Looked up into the darkness that was his face. His hand reached forward, toward my face, and I flinched, his hand stopping a few inches away.
“Relax.” His hand moved slowly, brushing down and covering my eyes. “Close your eyes.”
I did. I closed my eyes and felt his hand drop. Kept them closed as I turned every other sense to high alert. “Good girl,” he said softly. “Keep them closed.”
I did. I kept my world dark and tried to relax. Felt the heat of him as he moved closer. I inhaled, but only smelled ocean, the breeze from the open door washing the scent of salt and sea across my face. Then his hands brushed over my shoulder blades, tugging down the spaghetti straps of my dress. Swiped back across my collarbone as his firm fingers tugged at the front clasp of my dress. There was absolute silence as he parted the fabric and slid it down until my bra was the only thing on my upper half.
Closer. I could feel the brush of his chest against the soft pillow of my breasts. Both of his arms wrapped around me as he unclipped my bra in one movement, the garment dropping, my breasts suddenly loose and free. His arms fell and the hard comfort of his body left me. My eyes flipped open.
“No.” He was before me. Staring. Close enough that the shadow was lifted; I could see the reflection of the bathroom light in his eyes. They were tight on me, a warning look in them. “Keep them closed, Riley. For now.”
For now. I released a slow breath. Dropped my eyelids until I was back to relying on touch, smell, hearing. I didn’t know why I opened them anyway. This way was so much better. I could let my imagination go wild. Imagine what I wanted. Enjoy what I—oh God. A breeze blew, the cool air causing my skin to awaken, the caress of the outdoors making this suddenly so erotic in its voyeurism. I didn’t remember which floor we were on. Didn’t know if it’s the second or twentieth, but knowing that the balcony door was open before me, feeling the soft brush of his fingers as they returned to my skin ... it was enough to make my nipples peak, the weight in my pussy heavy with its increased need.
“You are so beautiful.” He almost groaned the words, the sentence cutting off my own gasp as both of his fingers circled and squeezed my breasts. Lifted them. I felt the rough prickle of his cheek as his mouth moved across their surface. A wet suction as my right nipple made its way into his mouth, his soft play of tongue against delicate skin probing and teasing, a low moan coming out of me when he bit the tip gently. I sagged a bit in his hands, my knees shaking, my desire to have him making a persuasive argument against the one to have him never stop what was occurring right then. “Wait, Riley.” His mouth moved lower, his hands released my breasts, and I felt the bump of cloth against my legs.
His mouth pressed kisses along my stomach until it reached the line of my dress, and his hands were suddenly at the back of me, fumbling over and then finding the zipper, yanking it down in one movement, and the fabric fell, leaving me one wet pair of panties away from being naked in heels before him.
“God.” A reverent whisper from his mouth. A mouth that was wasting no time in moving lower. “Spread your legs a bit.”
I obeyed. Moaned softly when I felt the press of his finger moving aside the silk and pushing inside of me. One gentle push inside that broke any chance of restraint I had left. I opened my eyes, looked down to find him on his knees, and reached out, gripped his hair, and pulled his head back until our eyes met. “I can’t,” I gasped, his finger pushing deeper, hooking inside of me, his eyes watching me darkly, the edge of his mouth curving a little when my legs buckled.
Thank God the man listened. He moved to his feet, pulling his finger from me and moving it to his mouth. Sucking on his forefinger, he stared down at me. I stepped forward, pulled his finger from his lips and replaced it with my tongue, the man taking my mouth as if he owned it, his hands gripping me to him, his kiss hard and dominant.
I fell back on the bed, his body above me, knees moving to either side of me as he took a final pull on my mouth before sitting up, skimming his fingers down my breasts, the lines of my stomach, hooking into the sides of my panties and dragging them over my hips, his body rolling off me enough to free my body from the last bit of resistance.
“My turn,” I breathed, sitting up and reaching for his belt. He obliged, rolling onto his back and letting me unbutton his shirt.
I am nervous. I realized it as my fingers looped buttons through holes, each minor accomplishment revealing inch after inch of strong chest, covered by a thin layer of hair. He was a man, more man than anyone I had been with. My last boyfriend was a leftover from college, a frat boy turned pharmacist, who never let go of the shaggy haircut that every boy from the South seems to don like a badge of honor. This man, whose chest was strong and wide, his eyes dark and heated, his touch, which trailed patiently down my back, was firm and confident.
I pulled at his shirt, tugging fabric from pants until abs were fully exposed, a line of thicker hair leading down the ripped path of his stomach to a belt buckle, a break of skin against dark fabric. I slowed down, pulled hesitantly on the leather, the cold metal of the clasp so foreign in this hot bed of sexual tension. Then his hands pushed me aside, three quick movements having his pants undone, zipper down, belt open, and cock out.
The groan out of me was unstoppable. It rumbled, turned into a hiss, and then my hesitation was gone, and I pounced on it, diving with greedy lips, my frantic fingers trying to pull him down the bed, as I slid down his body and onto my knees on the carpet. I needed it all. I needed to feel the slide of skin against stiff, needed to feel it respond on my tongue. I wanted to taste every inch of it. Suck on his head until he gasped. Take him as far down my throat as I could, damn the gag reflex. Obsessively worship him with my mouth until he was half as hungry with lust as I was.
I couldn’t believe I was doing this. On my knees, in a stranger’s hotel room, his body following my lead, sliding to the end of the bed, sitting up, his hand settling on the back of my head, pushing with encouragement as I took his gorgeous cock in my mouth. I was naked in front of this man, any prior relationship with modesty having jumped ship, his eyes nothing but worshiping in their perusal of my curves.