Perfect Strangers

33

His lips part. Astonished, he gazes down at me.

I grumble, “Don’t judge me.”

“I’m not judging you. f**k, Olivia, I am not judging you.” He laughs. “Especially considering I did the exact same thing.”

I peer at him, unconvinced.

Seeing my narrow-eyed look, he laughs again. He kisses my neck and jaw, chuckling against my skin, his stubble tickling me. “It was this ripe peach that did it,” he murmurs, squeezing my butt again. “You walked away from me and my d**k got so f*****g hard watching this ass sway that I had to go into the café’s restroom and jerk myself off.”

I shove at his chest. “That’s a bald-faced lie!”

“No, sweetheart. It’s the God’s honest truth.”

He kisses me, his mouth hard and demanding, his heart crashing against my breasts. Then he rolls off me, flicks on the lamp on the nightstand, and stands at the side of the bed looking down.

“Tell me what I did to you in your fantasy,” he says in a low, urgent voice, shucking off his jacket and tossing it carelessly aside. “Tell me exactly what I did.”

He whips off his shirt while I stare at him, feeling electrocuted.

And scared as s**t.

I swallow and try not to hyperventilate as I watch him kick off his shoes, peel off his socks, unbuckle his belt, and rip off his trousers. If there’s a speed record for undressing, he’s about to break it.

Then he’s standing there in all his glory wearing only a pair of black briefs. An enormous bulge distends the front.

The sight of his gorgeous body must be crossing all the wires in my brain, because I say, “You f****d me like you owned me, body and soul.”

Without breaking eye contact with me, he palms his erection, squeezing it through his briefs then stroking his hand up and down the length. “Go on.”

His voice is controlled but strain shows on his face. His muscles are all tensed, as if he’s restraining himself from lunging.

Heat blooms over my skin, prickling all the tiny hairs on my body. A fine tremor runs through my stomach. I lie motionless on my back, watching this aroused, beautiful man fight himself not to pounce on me, and feel more powerful than I have in my life.

“You were on top of me. f*****g me. Hard.”

His jaw muscles flex. He slides his hand under the elastic waistband of his briefs and grasps his jutting erection. Even surrounded by his big hand, it looks huge.

My voice comes out breathy. “You f****d me like that until I was about to come, then you flipped me over and put me on my knees and f****d me from behind.”

He begins to stroke his bare c**k, running his hand up and down the shaft, thick and veined. All the veins in his arms are standing out, too, and so is one in his neck that’s throbbing.

“Then you s*****d me, over and over as you f****d me, until I came, screaming into the pillow.”

He says sharply, “You said you’d never been s*****d before.”

“I hadn’t.”

“But you fantasized about me doing it?”

“Yes.”

His eyelids drift lower. His hand moves faster. He stands still, stroking himself, watching me, his chest moving erratically up and down.

The cotton T-shirt I wore to bed rubs against my hard n*****s with every inhalation I take. I’m aware of a heaviness between my legs, a tingle quickly turning into an ache.

James commands, “Sit up,” and my heartbeat goes haywire.

I follow his instruction, folding my legs underneath me and waiting for his next command as I struggle to keep my breathing even.

With his free hand, he motions me forward. I crawl to the edge of the bed, then fold my legs underneath me again, looking up at him, my entire body trembling.

He says softly, “On your hands and knees.”

I exhale in a gust. Then I do as I’m told, acutely aware of every inch of skin on my body. My nerves are singing. My blood pounds through my veins.

Still stroking his erection, James moves closer to the edge of the bed until his c**k is inches away from my face.

I can’t look away from it. My vision narrows to a tunnel, at the end of which is a huge, beautiful d**k, standing proudly erect with a small bead of moisture welling at the slit in the crown.

James grasps my jaw in his free hand and forces me to look up at him.

His eyes are dark and wild.

He says gruffly, “You’re going to suck my c**k and play with your p***y while I s***k your ass, sweetheart. Are you ready?”

A thrill like terror blasts through me. But it’s not terror, it’s elation, the shock of how much I want this scorching through me like nuclear wind.

Quaking, I whisper, “I’m ready.”

My dark commander rewards me with a dangerous smile.

14

E

yes burning, James waits for me without speaking another word. He doesn’t move, either, he simply remains patiently unmoving as I take a ragged breath and drop my gaze to his c**k gripped in his fist.

I shift my weight forward on my hands and tentatively lick the bead of moisture glistening on the tip.

All the muscles in his stomach contract. Curled around my jaw, his fingers twitch.

I take that as a positive sign and slide the engorged head between my lips.

He sucks in a quiet breath.

I close my eyes and take more of him, loving how hot and tight he feels against my tongue, loving his faint taste of salt and musk. Drawing back to furl my tongue around the head, I linger there for a moment, sucking, enjoying myself, feeling the vein on the underside of his shaft pulse against my tongue.