Hands Down

He could read her too well. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like that he saw things no man she’d ever been with had seen. She didn’t like that he called her out when she was lying.

Her head was all over the place with him.

It was just a little fantasy about his hands. That’s all. How did she go from that to this? How did she end up in this oddly elegant hotel with him?

When he left her in the room while he went downstairs, she could have defied him. She could have left the curtains closed, the ones his body was currently pressing her into. She could have stayed dressed. She could have done anything except what he told her to do.

She’d never had a man with a dominant personality as a lover. She liked it. She didn’t want to like it, but she did. Every inch of her body liked it, inside and out.

And she didn’t know what to do with it.

She had a feeling when she got home, she’d be thinking about her night with him for a long time.

She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to like this as much as she already did. She didn’t want this to stir her up, to wake her up. She needed to stay a little out of it. It was the only way she could go back to her regularly scheduled life and function.

She didn’t want to want again outside of this one moment in time.

She didn’t want to have those desires for connection, for sex, for lust, for what if again.

She glared at his profile.

Him and his perfect fucking hands.

Him and his perfect fucking face.

And damn… Him and his perfect fucking understanding of her.

And more than likely… Him and his perfect fucking cock.

Just then, he slid his gaze down to meet hers. “You look like you can’t decide between punching me or fucking me.”

“I can’t.”

“Good. I like it a little rough.”

That comment closed her mouth and shut up anything else she might have wanted to say.

Besides what was she supposed to say to that?

She didn’t usually like it rough, but with him, she would take whatever he wanted to dish out and she’d beg for more. She wanted him. She wanted this night with him.

And she wanted to run the fuck away.

He was going to be both good and terrible for her.

He was too much for her fragile soul to handle but she’d give it the old college try.

“You’re thinking too much. Don’t make me have to keep reminding you to stop. Just be here. Don’t think about tomorrow. Or an hour from now. Just be here, with me, pretty and naked and soaking wet.”

He wedged a hand between her thighs as he spoke and the electric shock of his skin plundering her pussy nearly had her knees buckling. His fingers slipped through her folds, then up inside her, filling her. When his thumb brushed her clit and he lowered down to bite one of her nipples, she came apart standing there against the wall.

He didn’t lick her nipple. He didn’t suck on it. No, he bit it. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to sting. Hard enough that she craved more. Hard enough that as he kept up the pressure, she became even wetter, the orgasm drawn out longer than any she’d ever experienced before.

Who was she? She didn’t like pain. She didn’t come then teeter on the verge of another. She didn’t have one-night stands with perfect strangers.

She didn’t have an orgasm in the middle of a sidewalk at a coffee shop just looking at a man.

He stood, head and shoulders taller than me, a dark grin on his lips… “I’m going to kiss you again.”

She shook her head and started forming an objection behind her teeth, but his mouth descended, and all thought fled.

His hand was still between her legs, those beautiful fingers still filling her, and now his tongue was inside her mouth.

When he stroked, she stroked back.

When he sucked, she gave the same.

When he angled his head and deepened the kiss, she angled the other way and gave as good as she got.

He hadn’t let go of her wrists, either.

He still held them in his other hand and though he hadn’t pressed her palms back against his cock before the kiss, he did so during the kiss.

Her fingers flexed then curled against his length again. She wanted to touch his skin like he’d let her before when he pressed her hand against his heart. She wanted to touch him everywhere. She wanted his body as naked as hers. But she also liked him this way, not quite naked. She liked being vulnerable, exposed to him.

And this morning… Hell, two hours ago, she wouldn’t have wanted that. She wouldn’t have wanted any man to see her vulnerable or exposed. But him? This man without a name because she said she didn’t want to know… He had her naked, he had her on the brink of every fantasy she ever had. And all because she wanted to know, to feel, to experience those hands.

“You’re thinking so much,” he said against her lips, across her jaw, down her neck.

“I know.”

“How do I get you to stop?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you need to talk about this? About any of it?”

“No.” Her heart began kicking to life. She had to keep herself together. She had to keep him from asking the wrong question. She had to keep her brain from wandering, and wondering, and overthinking every fucking thing.

She had to keep him from knowing when she was lying.

“Are you thinking about someone else? A boyfriend? A husband?”

“No.”

“A girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Do you want to change your mind? Do you want to go?”

“No, please… No.”

He lifted his head and looked at her, pierced her with those eyes, mesmerized her with that mouth that he lowered to one of her nipples without taking his gaze from hers. He held her captive in so many different ways. He held her against the wall with nothing more than his will.

The sensations spiraled through her body as he sucked on her skin, rolled his tongue over the erect bud. Her clit tingled, her pussy dripped…

He dropped her wrists and stepped back. He stared at her, at her breasts, lower to her thighs, back up to her face. She didn’t know what he was thinking, his eyes were unreadable and a tick had taken up residence in his jaw as he clenched his teeth.

Given how well he knew what was going on with her every time he looked at her, the fact that she couldn’t do the same with him seemed pretty damn unfair.

She wanted to ask what was wrong, but she was afraid of whatever the answer might be, so she stood silently and waited.

“I… Fuck.”

He turned and ripped at his shirt, sending buttons flying across the room. His shoes were next, and soon he ripped the belt from his jeans, tossing it on the bed. When he shucked his jeans followed by the boxer briefs she’d had her hand on just moments before, he stood on the other side of the room as naked as she was. His back was facing her, much like it had been on the sidewalk earlier. His hands flexed against, his fingers curling into fists at his side.

Jesus H… The man had the best ass she’d ever seen.

She moved, then.

This was as much for her as for him tonight. It was as much her doing as his. He didn’t get to make all the decisions, all the choices.

And he looked like he was fighting something.

She stopped until she could feel the heat coming off his skin and lifted a hand, drawing her palm down his back. His muscles rippled under her touch, so she did it again. She liked affecting this man. She hadn’t even cared to affect anyone in way too long, but him…? She really did care. She wanted him to remember her as much as she was going to remember him.

“Take one of the condoms and come put it on me.”

That was an interesting request, and completely terrifying that her fingers began to tremble and her breath turned shaky.

The roll was on the bed next to the pretty lingerie he’d brought her. She wanted to wear it. She wanted to wear or not wear whatever pleased him. She tore off one foil packet and opened it, waiting until the last moment to move around in front of him. She didn’t chance a look into his eyes, or a look into his face, at all. She was afraid she’d lose her nerve.

She wanted to ask why he walked away from what he’d been doing to her over at the wall, but didn’t.

She set the condom circle on the head of his cock, barely registering just how beautiful it was, how perfectly shaped, how perfectly curved, how perfectly… God, more wetness slid along her pussy lips.

She was more aroused than she ever remembered being in her life.

“When was the last time?”

Her gaze flew to his face. “I…”

“When was the last time someone was inside you?”