Chance Encounters: The Collection

Chapter Four

Chapter FourSnuggling deeper in his arms, I close my eyes and smile. Our moment of bliss doesn't last though, because I'm compelled to move by a sharp, sudden pain.

"Cramp! Let go!" I cry.

As soon as he releases me I manage to stretch out my aching muscles.

Much better, but I'm still feeling inexplicably clingy. Suddenly very nervous, I want his arms around me some more, but don't know if I could deal with refusal if the moment has already been ruined.

Rubbing the cramped part of my hip, I sit down and watch as he removes his c****m and ties a knot in it. Carefully he places it on top of the empty wrapper on the bedside table.

My thigh is so close to his I can feel the warmth radiate off him. He's looking at me, as though he wants to say something but doesn't. Instead he lies back, his arm stretched out just far enough in my direction for it not to be coincidence.

I lie down as well, my head on his chest, relieved when he starts to hold me again. Although he appeared more relaxed only moments ago, he tenses up straight away when I rest my hand on him. I don't move, instead I listen to his heart racing underneath my ear. Gradually, he calms again, and I snuggle my face against him. He starts to caress my hair and shoulder.

"Mmm, that feels good," I whisper.

In a gesture that makes me feel so very special, he kisses my hair a few times.

No longer can I resist, and I let my fingertips roam over his body. Though his breathing turns irregular, he doesn't stop me and continues to do the same to me.

"This is some very nice artwork." I start tracing the outlines in his tattoo.

It's impossible to hold back on the one thing I know I shouldn't do: start an interrogation.

"Why so nervous earlier?"

He shrugs.

"Well don't be," I say.

Leaning up on my elbow, I kiss his chest where my head was resting until now. I'm finished exploring the patterns of his ink, and let my fingers run through his chest hair instead before heading down his side.

"What happened?" I ask, as my fingertips reach his scars.

"I used to work as a bouncer a few years ago. Ended up getting stabbed." His tone matches the length of his sentences. Clearly this isn't his favorite topic.

"I hope they got the guy," I whisper, before bending down and kissing every one of the five thin marks. He flinches at the first kiss but relaxes thereafter.

When I'm done, he pulls me back into his arms and starts playing with my hair. I respond by snuggling closer against him, one thigh over his, and caress his leg with my foot. Looking down, I'm pleased to find that he's still a bit hard.

"I haven't been with anyone since." His voice is a whisper, as if he's merely thinking out loud.

So that explains it. The lingering ticklishness in the pit of my stomach flares up again. In all likelihood I'll only have him for one night, but it should be one to remember for the both of us.

"In that case, one good turn deserves another," I chuckle, "And this time you're on top!"

Lifting my head, I grin at his bewildered expression and kiss his lips.

"No way, I'd crush you," he says finally.

"Try me," I dare, still grinning.

A glint appears in his eyes as he grins back at me. He grabs both my wrists and flips me off him and onto my back. Pinning both my wrists back onto the pillow, he leans over and just looks at me again. My eyes, lips and further down, before settling on my eyes again, there is a tenderness about him which I've not encountered before. He's something special.

"Let me know if it's too much..." he whispers.

I smile and shake my head.

"Kiss me some more!"

With both hands around his neck, I pull him into me. He lowers himself down until I'm sandwiched tightly between him and the mattress. Now that I'm finding myself in exactly the position I envisioned when I first laid eyes on him, I'm starting to feel feverish. Just one little detail is still off...

Reaching around, I carefully slip off the elastic holding his hair together allowing locks of brown hair to fall down framing his face.

"God yes, that's so hot!" Through the haze, I note that he's smiling again.

I'm not pretending, not wishing for something or someone else like what might happen during any other casual encounter. And it seems he has started to realize that I'm responding to him, not a dream or pretence.

Lost in further kisses, I'm cocooned between his strong arms either side of me. Both my hands roaming freely over his back, I can feel him starting to relax. I'm having a hard time pacing myself, having just found my favorite part of his anatomy.

Love handles.

How can something with such an enticing name be considered so undesirable? Running my fingertips over his sides softly at first, I can feel the goose bumps on his skin, though he does not say a word. Not too ticklish then, perhaps just a little.

But I want more, handfuls more!

As he finds a comfortable position on top of me, it is starkly obvious that not all about him is soft. I haven't touched his c**k after getting off him the first time around, yet it is very prominently pressing against my thigh. I try to move underneath him but am unable until he lifts himself a bit, allowing me to spread.

I can think of nothing, but wanting him again and again. He leans on his knees between my legs, one hand resting to my left, the other reaching down. There is silence all around us, except our excited short breaths. All I can do is stare into his eyes, letting the anticipation build.

"f**k," he interrupts and looks around to the night stand, "are there any more condoms?"

"Yes, my bag." I point to the floor.

He raises himself and stretches his arm to checks my handbag, retrieving several foil packets.

"Just in case," he grins. I like how he thinks.

Sat down on his knees between my spread legs again, he starts to put on the rubber. I lean up on my elbows, watching him. I try not to stare, for fear of making him uneasy but it's hard not to. Sure enough, he glances up at me through the strands of hair hanging in front of his face.

"Almost done."

I just smile in response and wait, trying not to be too impatient.

He seems in an equally big hurry, because he's back on top of me already, forcing my legs wide. With his hair loose and his eyes as passionate as I've ever seen on a man, he looks powerful. He enters me with new found energy and it's clear he has been completely transformed.

Gone is the shy IT guy whose character differed so much from his wild appearance. I'm being conquered by his inner Viking warrior. He plunges into me deeply and I cry out, squeezing my eyes shut involuntarily.

But I force myself to look again. I don't want to miss even a moment. Every movement of his, its sole purpose is seemingly to teach me that the tables are now turned. I had him where I wanted him when I was on top. Now it's his turn.

Helpless, legs wrapped around his thick waist. We must look like quite a pair, hair flying wildly around us, tickling my nose. I drag his face down towards me and feel my chin getting raw from the scratching of his beard. Still I demand more kisses.

And he's so good, so strong. I try to tell him, but it's all just coming out in strained fragmented sounds. The intense look in his eyes signals that he knows.

He f***s me harder and I feel my body reach new heights. Every muscle has a mind of its own, I spasm and contract and scream. But he keeps going and I've lost it.

When he thrusts into me finally, my cunt stings from the impact yet I'm fully satiated. Tears wet my face but I can't help smiling.

Little beads of sweat have formed on his brow and he looks down at me like he has just awoken from a dream. Carefully he lowers himself onto his elbows above me, just about managing to reach my streaked cheek with his fingers.

"Did I hurt you?"

"God, no," I say, "That was by far the best f**k I've ever had."

He takes a moment, scrutinizing my expression. If he's looking for a sign that I'm faking it, he's not going to get it.

Releasing him from the hold my legs had maintained on him, I allow myself to relax rather than risk another irritating cramp. He puts his head down on my chest, but is mindful not to weigh me down too much.

I'm grateful for the moment of rest and not in any hurry to let him go. And this time around it's me playing with his locks. Shame on whoever decided men should have short hair. They shouldn't.

This is what a man should look like. It's also how one should f**k.

He lifts himself off me after a little while, seemingly as reluctant as I am. Once again I watch him and wait. The alarm clock next to the bed flips to 2:00 and I feel the long day catching up with me.

When he gets back into bed, he nudges me aside slightly and off the duvet. I have neither the will nor energy to move, and just wait while he pulls the covers over the both of us. With one big scooping movement of his arm, I'm drawn back.

His warm, reassuring presence surrounds me and I wouldn't change a thing about it. Not even the prickly hair of his still n***d crotch pressed against my a*s or the slight tickle on my neck caused by his every breath.

It has been a while since I slept with and not just f****d a man. The realization of how nice that kind of trust can be had been only a distant memory until now.

Relaxing utterly, for me there is no more fighting the inevitable.