No doubt, she was hot with a tight little body. His cock started to harden. He opened the condom box, separated the three-pack, and set the items on the night table.
She hadn’t moved, hadn’t started stripping off her clothes either. She stood like a statue in the middle of the room. She’d said yes, she’d kissed him back, and she just told him she didn’t hookup with strangers.
“I’ll be gentle,” he said.
“I don’t want gentle. I want raw, wild fucking. I’m not afraid of you.”
He went to her, drew her hand to his mouth, dropped kisses on her fingers. Slowly. One at a time, while he watched her. Her breathing shifted, a tremble skirted through her, but she didn’t pull away.
“Music?” he asked.
She jumped in his arms, wrapped her arms and legs around him. Her strength surprised him. She couldn’t be more than five-six. Her kiss was hard, her hands plunged into his hair.She fisted his waves while she ground against him in a slow, sensuous rhythm.
He snaked his arms around her, trapping her against him. On a growl, she deepened the kiss, her tongue stroking his. Her throaty moans turned him hard, but his leg started aching and he grabbed his thigh.
She broke the embrace, her fingers cemented in his hair. “You’re injured.”
Without waiting for his response, she climbed down, reached behind and unzipped the halter top. As she struggled with the zipper, he stepped behind her, pressed his lips to her warm neck, and kissed her heated skin. Then, he slowly unzipped the jumpsuit revealing a black strapless bra and a pair of black panties. The garment fell away and she stepped out of it, draped it over a nearby chair and turned to face him.
He stepped close, his gaze dropping to the swell of her breasts while he stroked her hourglass waist. She tugged down the zipper on his quarter-zip sweater, then pulled it over his head, sending his hair flying in every direction. His mussed look made her wetter still.
Then, she eyed a light dusting of dark hair on his defined pecs while a gauze bandage covered his shoulder wound. “Part of the attack?”
“Yes.”
After tossing the sweater aside, she got busy removing his pants. When they pooled at his ankles, she stepped away and eyed the bandage over his thigh.
“You’re lucky it didn’t hit your femoral artery,” she said. “We’ll find a position that’s comfortable for you.”
Up went his eyebrows. Why in the hell would she care about him? Was she just a kind, considerate person? There were so few of those left.
Me, included.
“I’m here to pleasureyou, No Name.”
He was rewarded with a little smile as she stepped close, slipped her warm hands into his boxer briefs and around his junk.
Bolts of need pounded through him, and he firmed as she stroked his shaft. When his juices seeped out, she ran her index finger across the opening and extracted her hand. Then, she smeared his juices over her lips and tongued off the wetness.
“Jesus,” he groaned. “You’re hot.”
“Russian women are animals,” she murmured. “So horny, all the time.”
She tugged his underwear down, leaving his cock jutting to the moon. “Nice.” She stroked it, then said, “Take off your shoes.”
He sat on the ottoman, untied his dress shoes, removed his pants and boxers. When he flicked his gaze to her, she’d slipped her hand down her panties and was touching herself.
Desire shot through him, more wetness glistened on the head of his cock. “That’s my job.”
She removed her hand. “Smell my pussy.”
He stood, did as she told him, then took her finger into his mouth, sucking and licking. “You taste like someone who needs to get fucked.”
Another raspy groan escaped from her throat as she set her eyewear on the dresser, slinked close, and pressed her mouth to his. Her kiss was hungry, desperate, her sexy moans filling his ears with the sounds of passion. He shouldn’t be fucking her. She was probably the girlfriend of a Bratva sent to take him out.
That had never stopped him. Wouldn’t now either.
She broke away, her lips red from the hard kiss. She unhooked her strapless bra, let it tumble to the floor.
