2. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Shira
He didn’t keep me waiting long. The door swung open, and an imposing figure in a black balaclava filled the space. A rush of heat instantly flooded my core, and it was all I could do not to squirm.
He leaned one shoulder against the frame. “Heeyyy, Goldie.” I could almost hear his smile muffled behind his mask.
I made myself stand and turn to him, letting him drink in his fill of me in the dress I’d bought for tonight—one I would have never worn other than to meet a man for sex.
Kicking the door shut behind him, he closed the distance between us, reaching for me without hesitation. The second his massive hands touched my bare arms, my eyes rolled back. He was so much bigger than I’d expected. For a moment, I wished I had left my shoes on to lessen our height difference, but Wim didn’t allow me to get lost in my head about it.
He spun me and tugged the zipper of my dress down in one smooth motion, sliding the straps off my shoulders and over my arms.
“Pretty,” he uttered, trailing his blunt fingertip along my spine. “Talk to me, Goldie.”
I tipped my head back until it hit his chest and looked up at him through the narrow holes of my mask. The mask made me brave, allowing the knot in my throat to unfurl and a husky, sexy version of my voice released.
“Hi, Wim.”
“Mmm,” he hummed as he removed my dress, leaving me in nothing but sheer lace hipsters that revealed more than they covered. I’d bought them for Wim too. He shoved his hands down the back of them to cup my bottom, letting loose an appreciative growl, and warmth filled my belly, pleased at my decision.
He took me by the waist and turned me again, this time to face him. Head dipping, more low hums vibrated his chest as he looked me over. Under his perusal, my breasts grew heavy, and my nipples pebbled tight.
“Pretty,” he repeated.
I hooked my thumbs in the elastic of my panties and tugged them off. Taking them from my hand, Wim brought them to his mask and inhaled through the fabric. He released a frustrated groan and tossed my panties aside, then he grazed his knuckles along my abdomen, stopping to palm my core.
Reaching behind his head, he yanked his black T-shirt off and dropped it to the ground. Then, with one arm under my butt, he lifted me, putting us mask to mask, and carried me to the table, lowering me to sit on the edge.
We were barely more than strangers, yet he didn’t hesitate to step between my spread legs and put his hands on me. All over. From my breasts to my ribs, then lower, squeezing my waist and hips before returning to my breasts. He wasn’t tentative about it either, kneading my flesh and rolling my nipples between his calloused fingers.
I wasn’t as confident. At first, my hands were limp at my sides, and all I could do was stare up at his hulking frame. His shoulders were astonishingly broad, and I feasted my eyes on the muscle definition I’d never seen up close in real life. This man looked like he could carry redwoods without breaking a sweat. I dragged my eyes lower, and saliva pooled in my mouth. I was lucky I didn’t drool.
I didn’t experience big, exciting attractions. My life was quiet, as were my emotions, by both design and necessity. But I was Goldie tonight, and stepping outside myself had opened a gate I’d locked down tight.
My attraction to Wim was shockingly visceral. My hands moved on their own, following the trail of hair starting at his chest and going all the way down his slightly soft abdomen until it disappeared beneath his tented pants.
“Touch me,” he urged. “Hands on me, Goldie.”
This was new. I didn’t know if what I was doing was right, but I palmed his length through his pants while scratching along his sides and back with my other hand, letting my instinct guide me.
His deep groan and thrust of his hips told me I couldn’t have been entirely wrong, so I continued my exploration while he did the same.
We didn’t speak, and that was perfect. I got to play with this stranger’s body while he toyed with mine, and, god, I had never been so turned on in my life. Since I’d divorced myself from these feelings until very recently, that wasn’t saying much, but now I was connected to my inner well of desire, feeding it with every stroke of Wim’s skin and each groan I pulled from him.
He cupped between my legs again, his long middle finger pressing firmly on my sensitive flesh, and I froze, my mouth falling open behind my mask as he connected with my clit, tapping and rolling it in no discernible pattern.
And I forgot who I was, all my baggage set to the side. No longer was I a lonely, twenty-nine-year-old widow or the CEO of a failing company. With Wim, I became a wanton ball of lust and urgency. Scrambling with the button on his pants, I managed to pop it open in spite of his very distracting fingers sliding through my folds. When he plunged one inside me, I lost track of my hands, my balance—everything but the inches he was now claiming.
“Wet, Goldie. So, so wet.”
Gripping my waist, he flipped me around and pressed me face down on the table. My breath was lost then found moments later when his hands spread my cheeks and his wet tongue made contact with my soaked flesh. He must have lifted his mask. The possibility of turning around to see what he looked like flitted through the back of my mind, but it didn’t matter. Inside this room, what he did to me and how he made me feel were all I cared about.
I gasped, arched, cried, clawed at the table. Wim lapped at me from behind, taking something that had never been given. He knew it was his. All of me was. It was why we were here, in room ten. For tonight, he could take me, use me, have me any way he wanted, and I would love it.
Holding on to the edges of the table, I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling like I was outside my body yet more connected than ever before. Wim relentlessly licked and sucked long-neglected parts, awakening nerve endings that had atrophied. He did it with ease, tirelessly going at me.
And humming. I’d learned Wim hummed when he was pleased. Since he’d put his mouth on me, he hadn’t stopped. The vibrations were…oh god, they were going to make me come. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes since he’d started, but I was barreling toward the edge. Pressure ballooned within me until my skin was too tight and my voice clawed at my throat with the need to scream.
I had never screamed. Not even once. But I didn’t think I’d be able to stop myself.
“Wim,” I cried. “Wim, please…”
His lips latched onto my ache and pulled it from me. My head flew back, and my mouth opened wide, ragged sounds breaking loose from somewhere foreign inside me.
It was…exquisite. Painfully beautiful. I crumbled, fell apart beneath his ministrations. Not just the orgasm but his hands on me. They’d never left, and they were purposeful. Stroking and caressing. Spreading and kneading. I’d been touched more by this stranger in the last ten minutes than I had in…I didn’t want to think how long.
Tears welled in my eyes and spilled over, making me grateful for my mask. He didn’t need to deal with the intensity of my emotions. They weren’t sexy, and that was all I wanted to be for him.
“Christ, Goldie.” He kissed the back of one thigh then the other. “In different circumstances, I’d have you sitting on my face for the rest of the night.”
Oh, what I wouldn’t give to live in the alternate universe where that was happening…
I felt him move only a beat or two before he grabbed me again and carried my boneless body to the couch. He placed me on my knees, my chest against the back cushion, and arranged me just so. Then he was there, curving around me, enveloping me in his arms. He put his face next to mine, and I didn’t have to see to know he’d replaced his mask.
“Goldie, Goldie, Goldie,” he murmured. “You didn’t warn me about that sweet pussy.”
He rocked his hips into me, the ridge of his erection prodding my lower back. With our height difference, he wasn’t hitting where he needed to be—where I wanted him—but I liked feeling how hard he was and knowing it was all for me.
Rustling fabric and the sound of a zipper grabbed my attention. I turned my head to see him taking his pants off, wishing the eyeholes of my mask were a little bigger and the lights in the room brighter so I could see this man in fine detail. As it was, my memories of tonight would be candlelit and hazy, which I already regretted. I couldn’t fathom I’d gather the courage to do this again with someone else. Wim was my one and only.
He was a beautiful one and only too. His cock stood out from his hips, long and proud, as he rolled a condom over it. I wished he’d flip me around and feed it into my mouth, but he had other ideas—ideas I was equally supportive of.
His hands were on me again, raising my hips higher until my back was dramatically arched and my knees were barely on the cushions.
The blunt head of his cock brushed my opening, and I clenched, suddenly frightened I wouldn’t be able to take all of him.
“Shhh, Goldie,” he soothed, stroking his cock against my clit. “Relax and let me in. It’s gonna be a tight fit, but you can take it. All you have to do is let it happen.”
“Okay,” I whispered, willing my muscles to loosen.
To my surprise, he didn’t plunge inside me. Wim eased in, coaxing me open for his intrusion. My body stretched to accommodate him, little by little. Every inch I took, I grew more slick. I was trusting my safety to a stranger who could do anything to me he chose. The edge of danger set me alight. As a woman who never took chances, this entire experience was one big head trip.
After forever, Wim sank into me completely, his pelvis flush with my backside, fingers anchored around my hip bones. He stayed there, still as night, the puff of his breath through his mask the only sound for a solid minute or two.
When he moved, it was treacherously slow. A thrust, then still, controlled, easy, while his hands roamed with abandon. One circled my throat as he wedged the other between my front and the couch to play with my breasts. Then he caressed my ass, squeezing and lightly slapping it before sliding around to my front to palm my stomach and ribs. His hands were so big they spanned my torso, and he managed to touch every inch of me in a few long strokes. There was something familiar in his exploration, as if we’d been lovers for a long time and this wasn’t a random hookup at all.
I didn’t let myself get caught up in that thought. Wim was good in bed, and he obviously liked the feel of me—that was all it was. I shut my brain off and lost myself in this moment, this man. Tonight was all we would ever have, and I intended to savor every single second.
Sweat coated my skin, and my throat was hoarse from panting, crying, screaming. Wim wasn’t done. He’d taken me in every position I could have imagined and some I couldn’t. We’d gone through three condoms and were on our fourth.
Time had lost meaning in room ten. Refractory periods seemed to be a foreign concept to the man above me. My breasts were in his hands, my legs over his shoulders. He was powering into me, his control lost somewhere between round two and three. I couldn’t say how many times I’d come. After nearly blacking out while riding his face, I hadn’t bothered keeping track.
“This is it, Goldie,” he grunted, his hips slapping my backside. “One last time.”
“One last time,” I echoed.
He’d said that when he took me the second time, and it had sounded like he was convincing himself that was all it was. One more time for the road. Except that hadn’t been it. From the moment he’d put his hands on me, we hadn’t stopped. If we weren’t fucking, he was eating me out or lifting the bottom of his balaclava to suck on my nipples.
I knew I’d be sore when we were done and sitting at my desk at work tomorrow was going to be a difficult proposition, but I was too tangled up in this man to care about those things.
Wrapping my fingers around his arms, I held onto him the only way I could while he drove into me, finding his pleasure in my body. In this position, I was helpless to him, and I loved it. He’d shut my mind off, numbing all thoughts and worries, whittling me down to my base. For once in my life, I wasn’t nervous or anxious. I was nothing but desire and feeling, and it was so beautiful.
With a roar, Wim threw his head back, his hips jerking so hard he took my breath away. My inner walls clasped around him as warmth seeped into me.
Panting hard, his head fell forward, and not for the first time, I wished the lights were brighter so I could determine the color of his eyes as they gazed down at me.
“Goldie,” he groaned, lowering my legs to the mattress, “you took it all out of me.”
With nothing left to say, I slid my hands up his vibrating arms and squeezed his shoulders. He’d wrung everything out of me too, and I’d loved every second of it.
Pulling out of me, he fell to the side, and I sighed, knowing it was over.
“Oh shit,” he uttered. “Goldie…”
I turned my head, the alarm in his voice dragging me out of my stupor.
“What is it?”
“I’m sorry.” He dug the heel of his hand into his eye. “The condom is broken. I didn’t notice…”
The warmth he’d left behind suddenly made sense. I clamped my legs together, my breath caught in my throat.
Moving to his side, he propped himself up on his elbow and ran a hand over my stomach. “I’ve been tested recently. I’m clean. You?”
I shook my head. “No…I mean, yes, I don’t have anything.”
“Are you on birth control?”
I had never had a reason. Maybe I should have thought about it before meeting up with Wim, but it simply hadn’t occurred to me as a necessity.
“I’m not, but I’m sure it’s fine.”
Groaning, he swiveled around to sit up, his back facing me. “Okay. It’s all right. The chances of anything—look, I’ll leave my information with management. If the worst happens and you need to get in touch…”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” I repeated.
He gave me his masked profile. “I had a good time with you. Did you?”
“Yes,” I whispered, my throat raw and aches blooming everywhere else on my body. “It was everything I wanted.”
“Me too.” He moved to run his hand over his face but stopped when he hit his mask. “Do you need anything before I go?”
“I don’t.” Sitting up, I pulled the sheet over me, not wanting to be naked anymore. “Thank you for tonight.”
He rose to stand and turned toward me. Though I couldn’t see his eyes, I felt them raking over me. “Best night I’ve had in a long time. Wish it hadn’t ended that way.”
I shook my head. “Please don’t worry.”
Circling the bed, he pulled on his pants, then stopped next to me, dragging his knuckles along my bare throat.
“Glad I met you.”
“Me too.” I allowed myself to lean into his hand for one beat of my heart before straightening. “Bright side?”
He huffed a laugh. I’d asked him the same thing online at the end of each conversation we’d shared. It was something I’d started with my late husband and still carried with me.
“Bright side was you.” He gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Goodnight, sweet Goldie.”
“Goodbye,” I whispered, but he was already gone, gathering his shirt and heading for the door. He left without looking back, the lock clicking behind him.
Alone, I slipped my mask off and wiped my sweaty face with the sheet. Then I got up, pulled on my clothes, and slipped my feet into my shoes. Once I was back to myself again, the ache between my legs was the only evidence the last few hours had happened.
With one last look around room ten, I left too, putting a close to the hottest, most carnal night of my life.
Bright side: I now know a night like that is possible for me.