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Every muscle in my body screamed at me to grab her waist and sink that tight cunt down where I needed her. When I was confident that wasn’t possible, I finally forced my eyes open and stared up into the face of blondie. Who wasn’t blonde at all, mind you. I just didn’t know what else to call the chick with so much pent-up aggression I bet she’d fuck like a champ. Though something told me I was about to find out…
If this was a dream, goddamn it, I didn’t want to wake up. Not before I got a taste.
“Never considered myself much of a bottom, but fuck it. I’ll try anything once. You gonna fuck me good, dollface?” I grinned up at her. Despite my thrumming temples, I never felt fucking better. So fucking good, in fact, I didn’t bother to question the hotel room or how the fuck I got here.
She rolled her eyes as she leaned forward to rest her hands on the headboard so that her lips were just a breath away from mine. “I liked it better when you didn’t talk.”
Then she shoved two fingers into my mouth, only to huff when I met her challenge with a few careful flicks of my tongue around the tips. Blondie’s eyes widened before she quickly schooled her features again and returned the palms of her hands to my chest.
It was almost as if she were waiting for me to ask her what I was doing here. I didn’t care. I liked where this was going and I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Nope, I knew a good thing when I saw it.Feltit. And this was fucking magnificent.
She ground her hips against me a second time, and I groaned at the sensation. If she kept that up, I was gonna come before she did and that would be a real fucking shame—as well as a blow to my pride.
When it was clear I wasn’t taking the bait, and that my consent flag was waving like it was the final round at the Grand Prix and I was fucking Andretti rounding the bend, blondie grabbed my chin between her thumb and pointer finger. “I brought you here to see if that giant ego is well-deserved or not. So keep that mouth of yours shut or I’ll shut it for you…”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, baby girl…” My smart-ass remark trailed off as she ripped her black tank over her head and tossed it across the room.
I had seen a lot of tits in my day. Some up close and personal, others from the sanctity of my computer screen. But these ones? Fuck, were they works of goddamn art. Award-winning. Nobel Prize worthy. Too damn perfect to be real and I couldn’t even touch 'em.
Now I got the full picture. Blondie was looking to torture me. And it was working.
5
After escorting my mark to the drop site, I had a few hours to kill and a lot of steam to blow off. You’d think lugging two hundred plus pounds of muscle from the back of the van and up to the twenty-ninth floor of the Fairmont would be enough to do me in for the night. But a trusty luggage cart and access to the freight elevator did most of the grunt work. Which left me with an itch the evening’s takedown didn’t quite scratch.
At first, I was gonna leave my stowaway tied to the bed, sans his wallet and keys—and a lot less clothing. A little lesson when it came to sticking your nose where it didn’t belong. But after I stripped him bare and saw what he was working with, temptation got the better of me. I mean, the fucker had been talking a big game all night… and the game wasbig. I’d give him that much.
He was knocked out cold. The quick-acting sedative had a half-life of four to six hours, give or take, depending on the individual’s body weight and metabolism. But the rest of him seemed to work just fine, respond to my touch as readily as someone with their wits about them. So I threw a thigh over his waist and climbed onto his lap while staring down at thefinely sculpted planes of his abs, which led up to his prominent pectoral muscles and over to a pair of broad shoulders that could likely throw me around like a goddamn rag doll… if I let 'em.
Like I said, the fucker was pretty. A little too pretty if you asked me. And he knew it too. His arrogance was visible even in his sleep. He had this stupid half smirk on his face that told me he was more than aware of his good looks. I fought the urge to slap that smirk off his lips and not because I didn’t want to hurt him. But because it would ruin the mood if the fucker woke up and started talking again.
I’d already showered—needing to get the stench of Johnny off my skin—and changed into a black tank top and a pair of lace underwear. So there was nothing more than a thin layer of fabric separating me from the pretty boy beneath me, and I found myself grinding my hips against his pelvic bone before I could stop myself.
It wasn’t smart. I didn’t have a file on this guy. Didn’t know where he’d been or who he’d been with. But that was the problem with us thrill-seekers. We knew the risks and we thrived on taking them. I mean, the fucker looked pretty clean, smelled it too, and most of the other stuff could be killed with a heavy dose of antibiotics. That’s what I told myself anyway as I considered sinking down on the fine specimen of man meat in front of me.
And by consider, I meant my hands were grabbing for the joystick when the son of a bitch woke up and looked me dead in the eye. Instead of the terror I was hoping for, I saw surprise followed by a hefty serving of lust. I should have put the brakes on my libido right then and there. Climbed off the bed and offered Connor MacCullagh the one-finger salute as I slipped thedo not disturbsign on the door and slammed it behind me. Leave the fucker with blue balls and the bag of coke I tossedin the bathroom for housekeeping and the authorities to find at checkout.
But I didn’t do any of that. Because before I could think on it, I was tugging my shirt over my head and dropping it onto the floor. It would be a shame to waste a good cock. They were hard to come by these days—pun intended—and God knew I needed a decent fucking.
I was already worked up, so it didn’t take more than shoving the lace aside and sliding down onto nine itches of smooth dick to have me halfway to the point of coming. A handful of back-and-forth motions to have me swallowing my moans. And a few rotations of my pelvic muscles to bring me to the brink of bliss.
The sound of Connor’s voice grated on my nerves, but the little grunts he made as I used him like a fuck doll were more of a turn-on than I’d ever admit. I could almost imagine his large palms resting on my hips, guiding my movements, slamming me down faster, harder, as I edged us closer and closer to that orgasmic cliff. Though if the fucker came before I did, he’d better be prepared to lick me clean because I would ride his face until I got mine or he suffocated. I didn’t care which.
I needed this. Fuck, I needed this. I needed the stretch, the burn, the pain mixed with pleasure. I needed the darkness in my head to recede and just to feel nothing for a little bit. I needed more than nothing. I needed something. And I needed this fucker to give it to me.
It wasn’t until I leaned forward again, shifting his cock into that perfect angle, that he met me halfway, sucking my nipple between his teeth and biting down. That delicious sting traveled from the nerves in my tit straight to my core and sent me flying. I was near giddy as I rode out wave after wave of pleasure until sweat drenched my forehead and chest, and my neck tweaked with the sudden chill running up my spine.
He was on the verge of coming too. I could feel it in the way his thigh muscles clenched where my knees had them pinned against the mattress. See it in the way his jaw tensed and his teeth ground together. Hear it with each quickened breath that parted his pussy-sucking lips. But his pleasure had never been my prerogative… or my problem. Which had me hopping off the bed, throwing on my clothes, and exiting the hotel room while his pent-up, drawn-out “fuck” followed me down the hallway.
“Maybe next time you’ll think twice before jumping into cars with strangers.” I grinned to myself.
6
“Pretty sure I’m in love, man.” I slammed my beer onto the bar top, using my free arm to slap a palm against Zeke’s shoulder.
I recognized the incredulous look he gave me. The one that said “what the actual fuck” before he ever had to utter a word when it came to what he was thinking. I could read my childhood friend quicker than the latest article in Maxim magazine—hint: we never read the fucking articles. Any fucker who told you otherwise was lying through his teeth.
“So, I just wanna make sure I got this straight…” Zeke gestured a hand in my direction, a single brow cocked in that condescending way he did while one side of his mouth lifted into something that resembled a snarl. But not quite. Almost like he smelled something rank and was trying to figure out where it was coming from. “This chick drugged you, tied you to a bed in some random hotel room, fucked you almost good, then left your ass with the worst case of blue balls and a bathroom filled with enough coke to land yourself some distribution charges. And the immediate response in that fucked-up brain of yours is to call it love?”
