Chapter 3 – Rhiannon
Cain and I make the short, five-block walk from Bryant Park to Leo’s apartment in mostly silence. Not because I don’t have questions—because, trust me, I have plenty—but because I don’t want him knowing a single thing more about me.
Well, that, and I’m starving. So. Freaking. Hungry.
And maybe it’s because he’s already watched me come once tonight, and I’m pretty damn sure we’re barreling straight toward round two, that I finally decide to eat. Both hot dogs I ordered, and every last fry from the basket of loaded, cheesy, bacon-covered heaven that’s now gone cold.
I don’t care. It’s worth it.
The cheese sauce drips down my fingers, sticky and salty, and I lick it off like I haven’t eaten in days. Cain doesn’t say a word, just eats his burger as he walks and watches me with an unreadable expression, hands in his pockets, stride lazy and relaxed.
I let out a satisfied sigh. If this is just a one-night thing, a short, temporary moment with an impossibly attractive stranger that I’ll never see again in this city of millions, then why bother worrying about how I look right now?
To be honest, I don’t care how I look in front of anyone these days, let alone this chiseled demi-god walking next to me.
He doesn’t even know my name. And despite being insanely, chemically drawn to him, I know that’s just lust and my sad, neglected libido talking.
I don’t know a single thing about him worth remembering except the size of his dick through dress pants.
With the pressure completely off, I ramble between bites about Vanessa Mayers, filling the quiet with my thoughts on her film catalog and how, despite his claim that “she’s not his type,” I think she’s the kind of exception worth making.
“I’d like to circle back to the part where you said you know her,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him and waving the last fry in the air before tossing the empty box in a trash can outside Leo’s apartment building.
“I thought we weren’t discussing anything personal,” he replies smoothly, his lips twitching into a smirk.
As we wait for the elevator to Leo’s tenth-floor, swanky apartment, I clean my fingers with my tongue since we forgot napkins, one digit at a time, slowly. His gaze locks onto my movements, darkening as I drag my tongue over the underside of each one the way I’d like to do with his cock.
When our eyes finally meet, there’s no mistaking the heat behind his.
“You’re right,” I say, leaning against the wall as the elevator alerts us of its arrival. “But since you’re about to see the inside of my friend’s apartment, it feels only fair that you tell me one personal thing about yourself that’s not a lie.”
Before I can blink, he steps closer, his hands sliding around my waist, pulling me flush against him. A gasp escapes me as I crash into his solid chest. His face lowers, his lips brushing the edge of my cheek, then down to my neck.
He inhales deeply, his voice dark as he whispers, “No.”
I pull back slightly. “What?”
“I don’t like your game, but I’m not going to tell you anything more about myself if you won’t even tell me your name.”
And with that, he yanks on my wrist and drags me into the elevator as the golden doors slide shut behind us.
He moves behind me in the elevator, pressing his chest flush to my back again as we begin our descent.
I can feel the hard, unyielding length of him as he holds me in place.
His fingers grip my hips like a vice, keeping me steady.
Each breath I take comes in unevenly, his touch searing through the fabric of my sweater dress as his fingertips brush the bottom of the short hem teasing me.
“I just walked through the streets of New York City with your come and mine on the front of my expensive suit pants.”
A shiver rolls across my skin.
“That’s something I would never do.” His fingers trail upward, across the curve of my ass and to the base of my spine. “There, that’s all you need to know about me.”
I wet my lips. “That’s hardly a personal detail.”
He chuckles, lowering his face to my neck and pressing a kiss there. “If you knew me, you’d realize it was.” His fingers move to my ass, squeezing firmly. “Fuck, I can’t wait to see you naked.”
When the elevator doors reopen, I slip out of his grasp. Leo’s apartment is just a few doors down, and I walk fast toward it with Cain on my heels. I fumble with the key he gave me, my hands trembling as I shove it into the lock and push the door open.
Let’s get to the good part where we’re not talking.
“So…” I say, stepping inside. “This is my friend’s place.”
“It’s nice,” he says absently, though his eyes aren’t on the apartment. They’re locked on me, dark and hungry as he stalks forward, a predator closing in on his prey. I step back instinctively but then stop, rolling my shoulders back.
“Where are you sleeping?” he asks, his gaze flicking briefly to the small, navy L-shaped couch before returning to mine.
“The couch,” I admit with a smile.
His brows raise slightly, but then he shrugs as if to say, we’ll make it work.
“Sit down,” he commands more softly this time.
I lower myself to the edge, my breathing shallow as he kneels in front of me.
His eyes drop to my dress—a simple sweater style, long-sleeved and low-cut in the front.
It was a practical choice for the March chill that’s covering the city, chosen with no intention of having a one-night stand later that night.
But the way he looks at me makes it feel like I’m wearing something much more provocative.
He reaches out, his fingers brushing the hem of it before he lifts it and gathers it around my hips just like it was pushed up at the park. I lean forward a little, lifting my hips and allowing him to tug it over my head and then toss it aside.
The cool air of the apartment hits my skin, pebbling my nipples beneath the nude bra I’d picked for practicality, not seduction.
“Take it off,” he says, his voice rough with need.
I reach behind and unclasp the bra, letting it fall away as his hands trail up my legs, stopping at the thin fabric of my underwear. His touch is focused, a single finger tracing the dampened fabric before pressing firmly over where my clit is covered.
“Yes,” I hiss out.
He rubs upward across it, like I wanted him to do in the park. “You’re still soaked. I can feel it through the fabric.”
I nod.
His attention moves to my now bare breasts that he cups in his hands and squeezes gently.
“I was right about these. Much too big for my hands.”
I look down at my chest and that’s when I realize just how large his hands are. Sure, I felt them on my hips under the blanket, but Cain’s hands are about as big as his feet. I’ve always had bigger boobs, but despite that, his cover my chest almost completely.
He squeezes, and massages, before brushing my nipples with his knuckles.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs, his hands moving downward again to grip my hips. With a practiced tug, he peels my underwear down my legs, leaving me bare beneath his smoldering gaze.
“Good thing this couch is dark,” he says with a wicked grin. “Don’t think your friend would like the way I know you’re going to mess it up with your pretty pussy.”
Heat blooms across my skin as one of his fingers circles my bare clit, teasing, before dipping inside of my opening and curling upwards.
“Yes,” I moan.
He rubs it inside me, slowly, while his thumb resumes its steady, torturous rhythm over my clit.
“So warm. So wet,” he says, withdrawing his finger only to trail wet kisses along my thighs.
Gripping my hips firmly, he pulls me closer to the edge of the couch. Then he lowers his face and licks a wet line across my opening, parting me with his tongue to taste me.
“Shit,” I hiss. His nose nudges my clit, his tongue spikes inside my pussy and when he groans against my clit, the vibration splits through my core.
“You taste so sweet,” he murmurs. His tongue drags across my clit in slow strokes while he squeezes a second finger inside of me.
I sink back into Leo’s couch, my fingers threading through Cain’s hair as I guide his mouth exactly where I want him. My hips lift into him, chasing every slow, deliberate stroke of his tongue. He sets the pace. It’s unhurried and confident like he’s savoring me.
Then he pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, his green gaze locking onto mine while his fingers work me faster. And what he says next catches me completely off guard… especially from a man I’d written off as someone who cared more about projections and profits than a woman’s pleasure.
“A lot of women that I’m around don’t know their self-worth. Their confidence is faked and it’s obvious to me fairly quickly, simply because I’m good at reading people, I have to be for my job. But that’s not the case with you. I can tell you know that your body is a gift.”
My brain short-circuits, my breathing stills, and when he lowers his face again, he’s no longer careful. His tongue and fingers fuck my opening sloppily. His lips work my clit. And with his gaze locked on mine the entire time, I come the fastest I’ve ever came in my life.
My toes curl into the plush carpet beneath my feet, my spine tingles, my nose itches, my eyes go dry and all I can do is moan. The speed and force of it terrifies me.
“Beautiful,” he praises, slowing his movements until he’s sure I’m finished.
When he lifts his face to mine, still kneeling on the floor between my legs, he searches my eyes. It’s way too tender, much too personal. And I know I shouldn’t enjoy the way his face is glistening with my arousal this much.
“Was that alright, birthday girl?”
I bite my lip and nod. “Yes.”
He smiles. “Good. Now stand up and turn around.”
I move easily, forearms draped over the back of the couch, knees sinking into the cushions as I brace myself against the top, still trying to catch my breath, still completely naked.
The faint sound of a zipper and the snap of a latex condom registers before I feel the hard press of his thick tip against my opening. He drags it across my pussy, covering himself in me.
“Ready?” he asks, his voice rough and gravelly as he swipes that fat, plum crown over my opening and up against my still extremely sensitive clit, pressing it there firmly.
I nod. “Yes.”
He presses in just a little. My body clamps down around him, and his sharp hiss cuts through the air.
“Fuck,” he growls, pulling out almost entirely before sliding back down, grazing over my clit in the process. The sensation makes my knees buckle. “Are you clenching?”
“No. I don’t think so,” I manage to get out.
His groan is guttural and raw. “Fuck. So, you’re just that tight then.”
I try to relax, but it’s useless. Every tiny movement sends another wave of pleasure rippling through me, heat curling low in my stomach until it’s almost unbearable.
My last orgasm’s crashing into another one.
My head’s spinning, my body caught somewhere between wanting to stop and needing more.
The second orgasm builds fast—too fast—hovering right there, close and demanding, and I can barely breathe through it.
It’s been so long since I’ve had sex. So long since it wasn’t just me and my toys, pretending I could feel something that even came close to this. But now, having him, I’m not sure I can go back to the cold, indifferent pleasure of a vibrator.
“Try to relax for me, I don’t want to hurt you.” He presses in again, harder this time, and I collapse forward, gripping the couch for support as his hands clamp down on my hips, steadying me.
“Easy girl... you feel so good,” he rasps, his voice rough and strained. “How does that feel now?”
He’s further in now, the fullness stretching my core. I moan and roll my hips back into him, demanding more with only my body.
“Deeper,” I plead.
He lets out a growl, and obeys, his powerful thighs driving him harder and faster into me. The sound of the slap of our sweaty bodies fills the small studio apartment, a symphony of desire, punctuated by his fingers finding my clit and rubbing.
“I fucking needed this tonight,” he groans, his words matching the rhythm of his thrusts.
I nod, breathless, spineless and mindless because apparently dry humping in public then getting bent over my best friend’s couch was exactly what I needed too.
My body winds tighter, his thrusts become more erratic and sloppier, his breathing heavier before he curses. “Shit.” He drags his cock out, my body clenches down around nothing before I can reach my peak.
“No! What are you doing?” I whine.
He helps me off the couch, guiding me down until my back hits the soft carpet of the floor, his body hovering above mine, heat radiating between us. The air shifts as he settles between my legs, his big hands spreading my thighs wider.
He grips himself, pinching the condom at the tip, and that’s when I finally get to see him. He’s huge. Thick and long in a way that makes me wonder if he was even all in earlier.
He looks down again. “Fuck, I need a new condom.” He rolls it off, revealing some pulsing veins on a tree trunk of a cock that’s leaking precum from the tip.
I wet my lips, staring as he fishes another condom out of his pocket and tears it open to put on.
“What was wrong with the last one?”
He tests this one, pinching and stroking himself before he turns his gaze back to me.
“I didn’t trust it. Your pussy.” He swipes his fingers through the center of me, gathering up what I’m sure is my come from the way he’s been ringing orgasms out of me. Then he brings it to his condom covered shaft and jerks himself with it, using it as lube. “Is too fucking good.”
I look at the fresh condom, the way he’s practically bursting out of it and know there’s no way that thing’s going anywhere this time. He’s stretched it to its limits and if it weren’t for the XL symbol I saw on the wrapper, I’d wonder if he was wearing a size too small.
He positions himself at my entrance, one of my ankles hooked in the crook of his arm to deepen the angle.
“I want to watch you come,” he says. “I want to see your eyes when your cunt squeezes around my cock. When you feel just how fucking hard you make me.”
And then he sinks inside me again.