The way the guy stands there, all confident and with an unreal mix of elegance and rawness, his stare direct and shameless, an air of authority surrounding him.
God, I want another piece of him tonight.
I don’t think anyone could ever compete with this guy, so I never even went out with anyone who asked me ever since our encounter. Sometimes I’ve wanted to see him again so much that my chest hurt. And it’s not fair, is it?
When we arrive at our floor, he takes my hand and leads me down the hall to open the suite door. Yes. It’s a humongous suite.
What does it mean that he went for the best for this?
Does it mean he wants to impress me?
And what does it mean that I mumble “give me a moment” and race to the bathroom to freshen up?
That I want to impress him?
I take a long time scrutinizing my hair, my face, and the rest of me in the bathroom mirror. Does he like what I see? My pupils are dilated, my eyes gleaming with desire. My cheeks flushed. I look like a girl who just had the living daylights fucked out of her… or is about to. By the time I have loosened my hair and freshened up, Ian is sitting on a bar stool at the far end of the suite. The view of New York, and even a glimpse of Central Park, framing the windows behind him.
He slowly comes to his feet as I reach him. I melt under his smile as he grabs me by the waist and yanks me to his chest. Dominant. I like it.
“I should be gentle. You do walk my gran’s dog, after all.” He scans my features as if savoring them.
“I should have mercy on you. You’re my customer’s grandson, after all.” I scan his features in return.
His eyes begin to darken, his expression unreadable. I press forward, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. He smells so good that I feel dizzy, my brain completely out of order as I go up on tiptoe and graze his lips with mine.
He shifts his mouth, and my lips end up scraping along his jaw as he whispers in my ear, “Are you in it just for the orgasm of your life?” He holds me by the back of my neck.
I nod, and his expression changes.
He says, “Come here.”
He tugs me forward and motions to the hall of the suite, and I walk past him.
“Down the hall.”
I do as he instructs and when I glance past my shoulder, I catch those beautiful eyes of his inspecting my butt.
He smirks when I shoot him a look, and I hurry down the hall.
“Last room.”
I head to the master bedroom and open the door, then reach the bed and turn around.
“I don’t need a bed. Or a big suite, Mr. Ford. What I want from you is right here.” I reach out to grab his shirt and pull him to me, stroking my hand along his cock.
Oh God. He’s so hard. I want this so bad.
He grabs me by the hips and pulls me even closer to him, his eyes scanning my face. “You changed your mind fast.” A smug smile touches his lips as he grabs a handful of my hair, lifts it above my head, and leans forward.
“I’ll go if you don’t want it,” I grind out. Desire clutches my body as he skims his lips along my neck.
I can’t seem to say “want me”—it’s too personal, and I don’t want to get personal with him. Just physical.
My thighs are shaking as he tsks softly, shaking his head as he drags his thumb down my temple, along my jaw. “What would ever give you the impression I’m not into this?” He pulls my arms up above my head and flattens me to the window with his hard, sexy, blatantly muscular body. I don’t know which is harder, him or the window, or the gigantic erection pressing into my stomach while he lets his eyes roam my body as if deciding what he wants to taste first.
My lips, my throat, my shoulders, my…
“You feel incredible, Sara,” he rasps as he cups my breast in one hand, massaging it.
An unintelligible sound rises up my throat. This man does things to me. I’m suddenly afraid he’s going to break me, somehow, some way. The first time hooked me; what will the second do?
“No talking,” I say, pressing my mouth to his.
My lips end up crushed beneath his. The sound I make is swallowed by his mouth—his moving, hot, demanding mouth. “God, you taste good,” he rasps.
“So do you,” I croak.
My lips sting from his lips.
I press up on tiptoes and brush them again over his with a moan. “Kiss me again.”
He does more than kiss me—it’s like he’s waging a fucking war, his tongue charging into me, subduing mine, sucking mine.
Desperation grabs me like a living thing, causing me to arch my body against his. He’s hard like crazy, and I want more of his strength and his taste and his flesh and his passion.
I wiggle one hand free and he releases me, only to tear at my shirt. I hear it rip as I pull open the button of his shirt.
This franticness—I’ve never felt it before. It’s as though I’ll die if I don’t feel him inside me right now. I shudder and cry out when his hands cup my bare skin and free my breasts, and when he grabs one in his hand and lifts it to his mouth, I grab his hair and press him to me as he smothers one tight, sensitized nipple with his mouth.
He sucks. The pulling sensation makes my stomach constrict pleasurably, my pussy gripping with need.
“You ready?” His question is just a rasp.
Breathless, I answer. “No foreplay. I’m ready.”
He ignores that request.
He sucks my breast again, as if he can’t stop himself. The pleasure is exquisite—racing in my veins, constricting my muscles, tickling my bones, firing up my sexy parts.
“I’m not. I want this to last.” He presses his lips to my neck and I don’t get why his warm breath on my skin melts me, why his words melt me—how this hot, melting-hot, stranger can have this effect on me.
“I want your dick, Ian,” I groan, caressing him through his pants again.
“And you’ll have it, Sara.”
My stomach contracts as our tongues meet again in my mouth, and suddenly my fingers are roaming over his chest, over his partly open shirt, feeling the muscles there as our tongues frantically sample each other, rub and touch and twist around one another.
He grabs me by the hips, his kiss becoming more aggressive as he backs me up against the bed and unzips, unbuttons, and yanks down my jeans, his mouth never leaving mine.
I kick my shoes and jeans off, and he eases his hand between my legs and a shiver of heat rushes down my spine as he tugs down my panties and cups my sex, murmuring into my mouth, “Here you are. So warm and wet, waiting for me.” He inserts one finger inside me. “Fucking soaked for me. Burning up for me, Sara.”
He pushes two fingers in and I groan against his jaw, a garbled sound leaving me as I thrust my hips out for more. “More.”
My hands shake as I reach out and loosen his shirt from the waistband of his slacks. “I want it now,” I rasp, swallowing audibly when he helps me tug open the rest of his shirt buttons. He shrugs his shirt off—and his chest is glorious. Holy shit, so glorious I gape at him, ripped, tanned, and smooth—so lickable, I immediately press my mouth to his skin and go lick one of his nipples.
He pulls off his pants and boxers and his cock jerks free, a drop of cum at the tip.
When he finally pins one of my hands to my side and grabs one of my legs to hook it around his hips, then guides that huge, thick dick inside me, I scream. I scream and scream, pressing my mouth to his shoulder blades to quiet myself as he thrusts and thrusts and fucks me harder than last time. Harder than I’ve ever been fucked in my life.
God, I want another piece of him tonight.
I don’t think anyone could ever compete with this guy, so I never even went out with anyone who asked me ever since our encounter. Sometimes I’ve wanted to see him again so much that my chest hurt. And it’s not fair, is it?
When we arrive at our floor, he takes my hand and leads me down the hall to open the suite door. Yes. It’s a humongous suite.
What does it mean that he went for the best for this?
Does it mean he wants to impress me?
And what does it mean that I mumble “give me a moment” and race to the bathroom to freshen up?
That I want to impress him?
I take a long time scrutinizing my hair, my face, and the rest of me in the bathroom mirror. Does he like what I see? My pupils are dilated, my eyes gleaming with desire. My cheeks flushed. I look like a girl who just had the living daylights fucked out of her… or is about to. By the time I have loosened my hair and freshened up, Ian is sitting on a bar stool at the far end of the suite. The view of New York, and even a glimpse of Central Park, framing the windows behind him.
He slowly comes to his feet as I reach him. I melt under his smile as he grabs me by the waist and yanks me to his chest. Dominant. I like it.
“I should be gentle. You do walk my gran’s dog, after all.” He scans my features as if savoring them.
“I should have mercy on you. You’re my customer’s grandson, after all.” I scan his features in return.
His eyes begin to darken, his expression unreadable. I press forward, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. He smells so good that I feel dizzy, my brain completely out of order as I go up on tiptoe and graze his lips with mine.
He shifts his mouth, and my lips end up scraping along his jaw as he whispers in my ear, “Are you in it just for the orgasm of your life?” He holds me by the back of my neck.
I nod, and his expression changes.
He says, “Come here.”
He tugs me forward and motions to the hall of the suite, and I walk past him.
“Down the hall.”
I do as he instructs and when I glance past my shoulder, I catch those beautiful eyes of his inspecting my butt.
He smirks when I shoot him a look, and I hurry down the hall.
“Last room.”
I head to the master bedroom and open the door, then reach the bed and turn around.
“I don’t need a bed. Or a big suite, Mr. Ford. What I want from you is right here.” I reach out to grab his shirt and pull him to me, stroking my hand along his cock.
Oh God. He’s so hard. I want this so bad.
He grabs me by the hips and pulls me even closer to him, his eyes scanning my face. “You changed your mind fast.” A smug smile touches his lips as he grabs a handful of my hair, lifts it above my head, and leans forward.
“I’ll go if you don’t want it,” I grind out. Desire clutches my body as he skims his lips along my neck.
I can’t seem to say “want me”—it’s too personal, and I don’t want to get personal with him. Just physical.
My thighs are shaking as he tsks softly, shaking his head as he drags his thumb down my temple, along my jaw. “What would ever give you the impression I’m not into this?” He pulls my arms up above my head and flattens me to the window with his hard, sexy, blatantly muscular body. I don’t know which is harder, him or the window, or the gigantic erection pressing into my stomach while he lets his eyes roam my body as if deciding what he wants to taste first.
My lips, my throat, my shoulders, my…
“You feel incredible, Sara,” he rasps as he cups my breast in one hand, massaging it.
An unintelligible sound rises up my throat. This man does things to me. I’m suddenly afraid he’s going to break me, somehow, some way. The first time hooked me; what will the second do?
“No talking,” I say, pressing my mouth to his.
My lips end up crushed beneath his. The sound I make is swallowed by his mouth—his moving, hot, demanding mouth. “God, you taste good,” he rasps.
“So do you,” I croak.
My lips sting from his lips.
I press up on tiptoes and brush them again over his with a moan. “Kiss me again.”
He does more than kiss me—it’s like he’s waging a fucking war, his tongue charging into me, subduing mine, sucking mine.
Desperation grabs me like a living thing, causing me to arch my body against his. He’s hard like crazy, and I want more of his strength and his taste and his flesh and his passion.
I wiggle one hand free and he releases me, only to tear at my shirt. I hear it rip as I pull open the button of his shirt.
This franticness—I’ve never felt it before. It’s as though I’ll die if I don’t feel him inside me right now. I shudder and cry out when his hands cup my bare skin and free my breasts, and when he grabs one in his hand and lifts it to his mouth, I grab his hair and press him to me as he smothers one tight, sensitized nipple with his mouth.
He sucks. The pulling sensation makes my stomach constrict pleasurably, my pussy gripping with need.
“You ready?” His question is just a rasp.
Breathless, I answer. “No foreplay. I’m ready.”
He ignores that request.
He sucks my breast again, as if he can’t stop himself. The pleasure is exquisite—racing in my veins, constricting my muscles, tickling my bones, firing up my sexy parts.
“I’m not. I want this to last.” He presses his lips to my neck and I don’t get why his warm breath on my skin melts me, why his words melt me—how this hot, melting-hot, stranger can have this effect on me.
“I want your dick, Ian,” I groan, caressing him through his pants again.
“And you’ll have it, Sara.”
My stomach contracts as our tongues meet again in my mouth, and suddenly my fingers are roaming over his chest, over his partly open shirt, feeling the muscles there as our tongues frantically sample each other, rub and touch and twist around one another.
He grabs me by the hips, his kiss becoming more aggressive as he backs me up against the bed and unzips, unbuttons, and yanks down my jeans, his mouth never leaving mine.
I kick my shoes and jeans off, and he eases his hand between my legs and a shiver of heat rushes down my spine as he tugs down my panties and cups my sex, murmuring into my mouth, “Here you are. So warm and wet, waiting for me.” He inserts one finger inside me. “Fucking soaked for me. Burning up for me, Sara.”
He pushes two fingers in and I groan against his jaw, a garbled sound leaving me as I thrust my hips out for more. “More.”
My hands shake as I reach out and loosen his shirt from the waistband of his slacks. “I want it now,” I rasp, swallowing audibly when he helps me tug open the rest of his shirt buttons. He shrugs his shirt off—and his chest is glorious. Holy shit, so glorious I gape at him, ripped, tanned, and smooth—so lickable, I immediately press my mouth to his skin and go lick one of his nipples.
He pulls off his pants and boxers and his cock jerks free, a drop of cum at the tip.
When he finally pins one of my hands to my side and grabs one of my legs to hook it around his hips, then guides that huge, thick dick inside me, I scream. I scream and scream, pressing my mouth to his shoulder blades to quiet myself as he thrusts and thrusts and fucks me harder than last time. Harder than I’ve ever been fucked in my life.
