Page 8 of Styx’s Storm

He ran his fingers from the base of my spine, up my back, to my shoulders, where he gripped firmly. “You’re tight.”

“I’ve had a shitty day.” Shitty day, shitty week, shitty month…pretty much everything after Frank died had been horrible. Today was supposed to end with our arrival in Vancouver. Instead, I was in a dark hotel room with a good-smelling stranger. I couldn’t place the scent—sort of woodsy—but damn sexy.

“Let me help.”

He massaged me, then scratched his nails down my back, and the sharp contrast made my breath hiss.

“Shh,” he whispered, those hands everywhere on my back, thighs, shoulders, ass. Fuck, that felt so good.

Ridiculously good. I don’t know if it was him, or how long it had been since I was touched, but my skin shivered and heated under his hands like they were magic.

I felt wanted, desirable, and yet safe in a way I shouldn’t have in this dark room with a stranger I’d never seen.

“You have a name?” I asked. I’d be remembering this a long time, and I didn’t want to think of him as “mystery guy.”

He hesitated so long I thought he wouldn’t answer, but then he said, “Charles. You?”

“Steven.” Fucking hated that name, but I didn’t use Styx with hookups.

He grasped my ass cheeks and squeezed. Hard. I whimpered and he muttered, “Quiet, Steven. Hush now. Just feel.”

The sound of the lube bottle snicking open reached me. When he ran his finger along my rim, I sucked in a breath. The cool of the lube quickly warmed as he swirled it over my sensitive skin.

He slid a finger inside me.

My body tensed for a moment before I reminded it to breathe. Just because I hadn’t done this for a while, didn’t mean I’d forgotten.

He added a second finger.

I adjusted.

He scissored his fingers. Opening me. Preparing me. Then he brushed my prostate.

A shudder ran through me. I knew he felt it because he stilled, then chuckled and came back harder. Until I muttered, “Keep that up, and I’m going to come.”

Another chuckle.

Then he withdrew his fingers.

“Condom,” I asked, since I couldn’t see a thing.

“Of course.” Foil crinkled.

A feeling of emptiness hollowed me out until his cock nudged my entrance. “Don’t go easy on me.” Because I really wanted to feel this tomorrow. Hell, maybe even the day after that.

Charles grasped my hips and slowly nudged his way inside me.

Slow being the key word.

I wanted more. I tried to push back against him.

He held my hips firmly and refused to pick up the pace. Gently in an inch, out an inch, then pushing back in—just a little bit farther this time.

A grunt of frustration escaped my lips.

Another sardonic chuckle from Charles. “Patience.”

I wanted to tell him I wasn’t a patient guy—more the opposite—but his solid weight, his hands, the perfect stretch of his cock breaching me stole my breath. I spread my thighs and let him have his way.