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Instead, he lifts me and carries me to a room with a lavish bed covered in throw pillows. I land softly among the pillows. I watch as he removes his jacket and carefully places it over the back of a chair in the corner of the room. He removes his tie before he unbuttons the top couple of buttons of his shirt.
I watch as he climbs over me, but his body doesn’t touch mine. My heart pounds erratically in my chest as I stare up at the beautiful man above me. I squeeze my hands into fists to prevent myself from running my hands all over his body.
He squints his eyes at me before he takes my hand and presses it against his chest. “You can touch.” He smirks at me.
Killian leans down and kisses me again, hard. It’s so hard that he sucks all the air from my chest. His hand slides up my shirt, massaging the exposed skin of my stomach. His eyes open occasionally to study my reaction when he takes everything a step further, but he doesn’t slow down or hesitate. The intensity of his stare is there every time he opens his eyes.
I let my hand slip into the opening of his shirt to feel his hard chest, but I don’t let my hands explore beyond that. His hand mimics mine, except his moves with more confidence and surety. I gasp when his hand expertly finds my nipple beneath my shirt. He slowly rubs the peak between his thumb and finger.
“Don’t think, princess. Just feel,” he whispers into my ear.
This time, I do what he says. All I feel is the intensity building inside me. He releases my lips, and his tongue instead finds my other nipple as he lifts my shirt up.
“Oh, wow,” I moan when he flicks his tongue over it.
“You’re beautiful, princess.”
His words barely register. I can’t focus on anything but the sensations on my breasts.
His hand slips down my pants, and my heart rate increases in anticipation. He takes my pants off in one fluid motion, and then I’m exposed. My shirt is lifted high above my breasts, and my pants now lie in a pile on the floor while Killian is still completely clothed. Why the hell is he still clothed?
When his mouth sinks lower until his tongue touches my clit, I no longer care that he is still clothed. All I care about is that he keeps doing that.
“Oh my God!” I moan louder than I probably should.
I feel his mouth curl into a smile, but his tongue never leaves my clit.
“God, don’t ever stop whatever the hell you are doing.” I breathe fast as he swirls his tongue faster and faster over my bud.
When he sticks two fingers inside me, I almost lose it.
“Killian!” I scream as he stretches me.
The sensation is beyond words. His fingers seem to completely fill me. I can’t imagine how it will feel to have his cock pushed deep inside me. I can’t imagine him being small.
His fingers move faster inside me as his tongue moves in rhythm with them.
“Come for me,” he commands in between thrusts inside me.
“Oh, fuck,” I moan as I come, just like he commanded.
His fingers slowly and reluctantly move out of me, but I can’t move. I’m too exhausted.
I just came on a man’s fingers while his mouth tasted my juices. That’s a first. I’ve had sex before, sure, but no man has ever made me come before. Maybe that’s why I never went to seek it out. If I knew orgasms could feel better than the ones I give myself with a vibrator, I would have sought out men who could give orgasms like Killian sooner. I wonder if he is as good at making a woman orgasm when he’s thrusting deep inside her.
“Be right back, princess,” he says. He gently kisses my lips. It’s a stark contrast to the kisses he was giving me just moments earlier.
I sigh for the first time in a long time, feeling relaxed. I close my eyes as I wait for him to come back. I don’t bother with covering my naked body. Modeling has taught me not to be shy about my body, and I want more.
When Killian comes back, I’ll be brave. I’ll show him what I want. I want him to fuck me like I’m sure he has with countless women before. I want to feel slutty and dirty. I want to feel wild. For the first time in my life, I want to fuck a complete stranger.
I wake up suddenly as I’m thrown from another nightmare about my father’s death. I try to wipe the tears streaming down my cheeks, but I can’t move. I’m pinned to the hotel bed by a hot stranger’s arm.
His arm feels nice, stretched across my body—that is, until I realize we are both naked. Completely naked. Not I’m-wearing-underwear-and-a-bra kind of naked. No, I’m completely naked. He is, too. I know because his leg is draped over me, and his erection is pressed against my hip.
I lie in the bed, frozen, not sure what to do. I don’t want to wake him, but I can’t stay here in bed all day. Although it does feel good to be wrapped in a hot stranger’s arms.
I know how this goes though. As soon as he wakes up, I’ll awkwardly try to get dressed while he tries to find the best way to kick me out as fast as possible. I can’t handle that—not today, not ever.
