#3
As if sensing my disconcertment—my confusion—Quinton pushed himself up.
“Let me?” He didn’t wait for my response.
Instead, he pinched the top and then, in a fraction of a second, rolled it onto my length.
Finally, as he lay back, he offered a huge grin.
“Thanks for being willing to wear one for me.”
“I…just don’t have…”
“That’s okay. You’re taking care of me now. That’s what matters.”
He thinks I’ve been unsafe with other people.
I should tell him… Tell him what? That I was thirty-five years old and had only ever been with one person?
That I’d taken my wedding vow so seriously that, even in my divorce, I’d felt honor-bound to my ex-husband?
That only now he’d found someone else did I truly feel free?
Yes, to all that.
But I wasn’t going to try to explain the monumentality of this moment to a man who was stroking his cock with such sure strokes. So I snagged the bottle of lube, put a large dollop on my fingers, and slid closer. “Any requests?”
“Sooner rather than later? I’m seriously about to blow.” That cocksure grin yet again.
If only I had his confidence. Still, I was a surgeon. I could be focused. I eased a finger into his hole.
That grin widened. “I can take more than that.”
I chuckled. “That’s good news. I’m not exactly small.” In truth, I spent little time thinking about the size of my cock. It had fit inside Gideon perfectly. And nothing else had mattered.
“No, you’re just right. More, please.”
Being obliging wasn’t always what I was known for, but pleasing others—when I wanted to—was something I excelled at.
So I added a second finger.
A little sigh of contentment escaped me.
Matched by one of his.
I scissored as I tried to work him open. Then, I pushed in farther, seeking his prostate. I grinned when I found it.
His smile grew exponentially. “Oh babe, I knew you’d be good at this.”
Probably a line he gives everyone. Because no way he looked at me and knew I’d be good. Unless he was judging me by my looks. And as much as I took care of myself, I didn’t like being objectified. Even as I was aware people did that.
After a couple more passes over his spongy spot, I withdrew my fingers.
A drop of precum appeared at the top of his long cock.
I swiped it with my tongue, ensuring I tongued his slit again.
“I’m going to come again if you keep that up.” Amusement laced his voice.
I considered his words, but figured they were mostly bluster. On the other hand, my cock strained—demanding some attention. In response, I slathered myself with lube and leaned over him.
“Fuck me good. Don’t hold back. Just go for it.” He pressed a thumb to my worry line. “I can take it.”
Of course I could hurt him if I took things too far. I never would, but his cavalier attitude bothered me just a bit. He should be more careful. Less willing to trust total strangers. More aware of the people with bad intentions in the world.
Not everyone is out to hurt people. Not everyone is a cruel bully.
And on that thought, I lined myself up and pushed so my head breached him.
He grinned. “Yeah, more of that, please.”
That request I could fulfill. I pushed in farther, putting more and more of my weight on him.
I’d thrust in, withdraw, then push in more.
I worked as diligently and quickly as I could until I was seated to the hilt.
After closing my eyes for just a moment—to take in both the novelty and the familiarity of being inside someone—I opened my eyes and met his gaze.
He gave me a subtle nod.
I withdrew almost all the way out and thrust back in.
He grunted. In a good way.
I repeated what I was doing. Over and over again.
Even as I chased my climax—an orgasm I desperately needed—he took himself in hand and pumped to the punishing rhythm I set.
“Please.” I said the words through gritted teeth.
Because I’d never needed an orgasm so badly in my life.
Nearly two years of just my fist… This fucking I was delivering assured me they weren’t the same thing.
That nothing beat being inside another person.
And bringing them pleasure, while chasing my own, promised… everything.
“I’m coming.” He panted out the words even as his breath stuttered.
Mere moments later, cum spurted over his hand and some landed on my belly. As he contracted around my cock, I let out a howl of pleasure as my climax ripped through me.
“Yes, babe. This.”
I held myself still even as I arched my back and exposed my neck. Instead of feeling vulnerable, triumph surged through me. I’d done it. Had vanquished my demons. Had proved I could be with someone other than my ex and give that stranger pleasure.
Not a stranger. His name’s Quinton. And even though you don’t know what he does for a living or what makes him tick, you know what makes him special.
I did. And not just sexual prowess. He’d shown understanding to a guy who was clearly confused about the quickest way to don a condom. His trust in sharing a hotel was breathtaking. His ability to see the pain below my cocky exterior was noteworthy.
Then, like a balloon from which all the air had been removed, I collapsed on him. Although he wasn’t petite, he was certainly smaller than me. Yet, even as I had the thought to roll off him, he wrapped his legs around my waist to hold me tight.
I slid from him with a little pop.
He laughed.
I did as well.
We stayed that way for what felt like forever. Finally, I cleared my throat. “I should clean you up.”
“Mmm, okay. Not gonna argue.” His eyes remained closed.
I considered showering but, as I made my way to the bathroom, I figured that could wait until morning. I disposed of the condom, wiped myself down, then ran the hot water until I could barely stand it. I soaked a washcloth and headed back into the bedroom.
Quinton lay, clearly still blissed, with an arm slung over his eyes.
“I’m going to clean you up.”
“Mmm, okay.” He didn’t move.
So I wiped him down as if he were as precious as Mellie or Trevor.
My heartstrings tugged.
They’re safe. Gideon and his Archer are taking care of them. Nothing bad’s going to happen. Well, crap happened, but my children were at no greater risk than they might’ve been before.
I tossed the washcloth onto the bathroom floor, but before I could rethink it, picked it up and hung it on the towel rack. I couldn’t abide messiness of any kind—least of all from myself.
Upon returning to the bedroom, I found Quinton curled on his side, facing away from me. I checked my alarm, turned off the bedside lamp, then slid in behind him. I pulled the sheet and blanket over us then, finally, I wrapped myself around him, spooning him as if I could somehow protect him.
He grasped my hand and pressed it to his sternum.
I let out the breath I’d been holding.
Ha. You’d figured on running once you’d fucked a faceless stranger in a one-night stand.
This is still a one-night stand.
So you tell yourself. But how will you feel in the morning?
Since I couldn’t answer that question, and was tired of arguing with myself, I tried to let go. Truthfully, I needed rest. I couldn’t imagine I’d get much in bed with a stranger, but when my alarm went off at five, I found myself refreshed.
“As much as I would love snuggles and another blow job, I gotta piss and morning breath’s a thing.” Quinton hopped out of bed and hotfooted it to the bathroom. When he got to the door, though, he turned back. “Join me in the shower?” Then he disappeared.
My morning wood—which had taken a hiatus for much of the past two years—perked in interest. It liked the idea very much.
As far as I was concerned, having actual intercourse in a bathtub, while standing, was far too dangerous.
That said, I wouldn’t mind a repeat of the blow job.
Receiving, giving—I didn’t care. I just wasn’t ready to give up this intriguing man quite yet.
Watch yourself. You might develop, you know, feelings.
Oh, shut the fuck up. Seriously.
I rolled out of bed, stretched, and sauntered into the bathroom.
Quinton was already in the shower. I pissed and slipped in behind him.
“They have the best shampoo.” He held the bottle to me. “Lemongrass.”
“Uh…” Truthfully, I hadn’t given much thought to hotel shampoo.
I only ever traveled for work and I took my own toiletries.
Gideon and I never had the money for something as luxurious as a hotel stay.
Well, and then with the kids…? They’d needed us.
We were there for them. Nothing else had mattered.
“Hey, you okay?” Quinton took the bottle back. “Get under the spray to wet your hair, and then I’ll wash it for you.”
Such an intimate gesture—but truly appreciated. “Yeah, okay.” I did as ordered, and within moments, he was washing my hair.
“You’re a deep thinker.” He used his fingernails on my scalp, and the pleasure centers in my body lit in happiness.
“I don’t know if I’d say that.” I let out a long exhalation.
“Well, you often go within yourself. Yet I don’t read you as an introvert. Although that’s an assumption on my part.” He chuckled. “And I’m about to give you a blow job, so rinse your hair quickly.”
Mechanically, I turned and rinsed my hair. “How do you know I have time?”
“Because there’s no way you didn’t set your alarm for at least forty-five minutes before you needed to. You’re just that kind of guy.”
Perhaps I should’ve been offended, but I wasn’t. At all. Instead, I was amused. He got me. Understood me in a way few did. My regimented routine helped me save lives.
That said, I tried not to be too rigid with my children.
Somewhere between permissive parenting and drill sergeant.
That was my goal in life. To keep them safe while letting them flourish.
To let them know I appreciated when they put in their best effort while also making it clear that whether they succeeded or not, I loved them.
“Yo, Leo.” Quinton waved his hand in front of my face.