Chapter 3
Three
Goosebumps prickled her flesh. Her heart pounded and her tummy somersaulted. A gush of feminine awareness assaulted her from inside.
This is what it felt like—the sexual attraction she wrote about. That initial crackle of energy that passed between a man and a woman, so intense it was almost visible. A hunger, deep and carnal, stirred to life between her legs. A hunger that needed—no, demanded —to be sated.
She downed the rest of her cosmo just as the waitress set the drinks Michael had ordered onto the table. The alcohol scorched her throat, warmed her belly, intensified the raw heat growing in her core. She swallowed.
What would Starr do?
Starr Shannon was Stacy’s most popular heroine, the lead character in her bestselling erotic urban fantasy series. Readers loved Starr’s brashness, her fiery nature. Starr didn’t wait around for life to find her, she took what she wanted. She made things happen. She created her own success. When she was attracted to a man, she let him know it. Starr was a sexual dynamo, a multi-orgasmic superwoman.
For just one night, Stacy would be Starr.
“Let’s go then.”
Michael picked up his scotch and swirled it around a little. The ice clinked against the glass. “Go where?”
“To bed? Isn’t that what you want?”
“Uh…”
Was that a blush creeping into his warm olive skin? Could he get any better looking?
“What?”
“Our drinks just got here.”
“So what? We’ll take them with us.” Stacy’s heart drummed a rhythmic cadence against her sternum. “Are you a man or an amoeba?”
“Um…a man, I assure you.”
Had she actually embarrassed him with that stupid line? It was from a movie, but she couldn’t remember which one at the moment. “That’s what I thought.” She stood and grabbed her drink. “To your room then?”
“I have a roommate. Dino.”
“But you wanted to go to your room before.”
“For a drink, yeah. Dino’s busy at the party. But to get busy… We might get interrupted.”
“So you’d rather not get busy then?”
“Hell, no! I mean, yes, I want to get busy.”
He stood up next to her. Lord, he was tall! So tall and handsome and hot. The heat between their two bodies was palpable. “I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do, beautiful.”
“Good.” She picked up his scotch and handed it him. “My room then.”
He took her arm and guided her toward the elevators. “You sure about this?”
Stacy smiled, channeling Starr once again, “I’ve never been so sure about anything, handsome.”
“God…” He led her into an empty elevator. “Which floor?”
“Fifteen.”
Michael pressed the button and then leaned toward her. “I’ve been dying to kiss those ruby red lips of yours.”
She curved her lips into what she hoped was a coy smile. “Nothing stopping you that I can see.”
He gently brushed his lips against hers, first in a slow slide and then a tiny nibble across her lower lip. They were both still holding their drinks, and though each had a free hand, only their lips were touching. Very sensual and erotic, even though it was a light teasing kiss. Stacy’s insides quivered.
She might be next to a novice when it came to sex, but she did know how to kiss. Luckily, she had done lots of making out before David. She loved to kiss, and she was definitely going to make the most out of kissing such a gorgeous male specimen as Michael Moretti.
When her introverted self threatened to surface, she consciously told herself to bury it. Tonight she was Starr, and Starr would give Michael Moretti a kiss he’d never forget.
She sensed a hint of tightly harnessed control. At least that’s what Starr would sense. Stacy had written about such control numerous times. So like Starr in the same situation, Stacy decided to unleash Michael’s passion right here in the hotel elevator.
She pressed her lips to his, exerting more pressure, touched her tongue to his upper lip. Such gorgeous full lips! A true pleasure to kiss. The tickle between legs intensified. She could almost feel her labia swelling, her juices accumulating. Oh, this was going to be a wonderful night. A wonderful, pleasurable night. All she had to do was be Starr.
A slow burn of lust curled through her. She tasted the tang of his scotch on his tongue as its tip touched hers. His mouth opened against hers, as if asking permission to take more. With a thrust of her tongue, she granted it, and what had been a light and teasing kiss became passionate, raw, and primal.
Tongues lashed and dueled, lips nipped and ground against each other. Teeth nibbled and bit. She sucked at his lower lip, at his upper, at both together. Her mouth was demanding and greedy, taking all she could with this one kiss.
His groan reverberated against the back of her throat, exciting her even more. Open-mouthed and wet, the kiss went on and on. Liquid spilled from her martini glass and trickled down her arm, and when the elevator dinged its arrival at her floor, she hardly heard it.
Michael tore his mouth from hers, breaking the suction with a loud smack. “We’re here.”
“Where?”
“Your floor, your room.” He pressed his lips to her cheek. “That was some kiss, sweetheart.” He took her cosmo. “I think we lost some of our drinks.”
“I have more in my room.”
“Oh, I don’t think we need any more.” He winked at her. “I want you completely coherent for what I have planned.”
Right, she didn’t need alcohol. Starr Shannon didn’t drink. Stacy didn’t need to drink tonight either. She was feeling warm but not buzzed. Just as well, as Michael said. If this was going to happen, she wanted to remember every single, solitary detail of making love to the hottest man on the planet.
“This way,” she said, leading him to room 1543. Quickly, she slid her keycard into the slot and opened the door.
Michael set their half-empty glasses on a table and grabbed Stacy, forcing her against the wall. His mouth opened against her neck, and he sucked her flesh against his lips.
The sweet pressure made Stacy crazy. Her pussy pulsed in time with her heartbeat, and her head swam. Michael’s hardness pushed against her belly, and he ground it into her as his lips moved upward. He traced her jawline with tiny kisses and nibbled over the same path.
Nectar gushed between her legs. Her body was on alert. Every sensation seemed magnified.
“You’re so amazing, sweetheart. So beautiful.”
His words were a slow caress, adding to the sensual agitation already flowing through her.
“I want you so bad, Stacy. So fucking bad.”
She opened her eyes. Michael had stopped kissing her, had bent his legs to press his cock against her mound. Her clit throbbed inside her panties. Too many clothes, too many barriers. Her tiny black skirt, her thin panties—it was all too much. She wanted to be naked with Michael. Naked and sexy and nasty.
“I want you too. I want to fuck you. I want to suck your cock. I want you to eat me. Will you eat me, Michael?”
He groaned, and his handsome face contorted into a sensual grimace. He inhaled. “God, I can already smell you. You smell like sex, Stacy. Like sweet sex. I want to bury my face between your legs. I promise I’ll eat you until you scream.”
She was ready to scream now. He lifted his shirt and threw it on the ground as she toyed with the snap on his jeans. Lord, he’d gone commando. His erection sprang out as soon as she unzipped, and it was more beautiful than she’d ever imagined. She’d described many a penis in her writing, but Michael’s golden shaft was worthy of a whole page. Long, thick, and perfectly formed, it stood at attention, ready to pleasure her. Ready to be pleasured.
He fumbled with the edge of her fishnet top, lifting it over her head, stopping to squeeze her full round breasts on the way.
“Perfect,” he said. “These are so fucking perfect.”
“I told you they’re real.”
He unsnapped her black push-up bra and pulled it off her, letting it drop to the floor. Her breasts fell gently against her chest.
“God, I believe you.” He cupped them, squeezed them. “They’re so soft, so pliable. They’re real all right. When I thought you were married, I swear to God I thought your husband was the luckiest SOB in the free world to get to lick and suck these every night.”
Her body quaked as she readied to channel her character once more. “Well, tonight is your lucky night, handsome. They’re all yours.”
He groaned and lowered his head, dropping kisses along her cleavage. “You smell like ripe peaches.” He cupped one breast, gently teasing the nipple with his index finger.
Stacy gasped as the bud drew up tighter and her areola became taut and wrinkled. When he dipped his head and touched his tongue to the nub, electricity flashed through her.
David hadn’t paid much attention to her breasts. And though she’d done her share of making out before David, she’d been a good girl and hadn’t let any man venture underneath her clothing. This was the sizzle she’d written about, the amazing sensation of mouth on nipple.
This could go on forever and she would die a happy woman!
She shuddered and whimpered in pleasure. “That feels so good.”
“I haven’t even begun to make you feel good, Stacy.” He closed his lips around the nipple and tugged.
“Oh!” She willingly stopped herself from begging and decided to go with her feelings, not her thoughts. For the last time, she thought about Starr, and then she consciously decided just to feel. “Yes, Michael, yes. Suck my nipple, just like that.”
“Mmm.” His voice vibrated against her sensitive flesh. “You’re so fucking hot.” As he sucked, his fingers crept to her other nipple, and he teased it between two fingers.
The pressure ignited Stacy. “More, Michael. More.”
He twisted the hard bud while he nibbled on the other. His cock hung between his legs, hard and inviting, a pearly drop of pre-come glistening on its head. She reached for it, clasped her hand around its thick girth.
He winced. “God, Stacy,” he said against her breast. “Not yet.”
Had she done something wrong? “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. God.” His fingers left her nipple and dived beneath her skirt to rub between her legs. “It’s just…I’m so turned on. And fuck, you’re so wet. Your panties are drenched.”
From what she knew, that was a good thing. “I’m wet for you, Michael. I want you.”
“Fuck, I want you too, baby. All of you.” He withdrew his hand from between her legs and pushed her skirt and panties down with one swoop.
She started to step out of her black strappy sandals, but he stopped her. “Leave them on, baby. They’re so sexy. And right now I want to taste that wet pussy of yours.”
He led her to the bed. “Lie down on your back,” he said, a tone of command in his voice, “and spread those long pretty legs.”
His jeans still hanging on his hips, Michael knelt between Stacy’s thighs. He closed his eyes and inhaled. “Mmm. I’ve been smelling you all night, and it’s been driving me slowly insane.”
Stacy shivered. She wanted this, wanted it more than she wanted to breathe at the moment. No man had ever put his mouth on this part of her, and though she’d written about the ecstasy of oral sex, she knew nothing about it firsthand. How would it feel? Would she shoot to the sky as Starr did? Would she… come ?
God, she hoped so.
“You’re as swollen as a ripe peach, Stacy. Swollen and so pretty down here.” He slid his fingers over her wet folds. “So slick and wet for me.” He squeezed her labia between two fingers. “Beautiful.”
Stacy took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The sensation of his fingers on her private parts was new and exciting, so much more than she had imagined despite what she’d written, and he hadn’t even tasted her yet.
Yowza! Sparks blazed across her flesh when he flicked the tip of his tongue against her swollen clit. A low moan escaped her throat.
“Yeah, baby. You like that? I’m going to shove my whole tongue up that hot wet cunt, baby.”
Cunt? She used naughty words frequently in her writing, but the c-word was one she’d refused to use. Cunt . She mouthed the word, imagined Michael’s low husky voice saying it again. Cunt . Damn, it was sexy! It turned her on.
“Tell me what you like,” he said against her wet flesh. “Tell me how to lick you, to make you hot.”
She was already hot. On fire. How could she tell him what she liked when she didn’t yet know herself? “I like it all, Michael,” she said, her breath coming in rapid pants. “Do it all to me. Lick my…cunt.”
Wow, it felt good to say the word! Like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. With that word part of her introversion melted away, replaced by raw need and desire. The carnal hunger inside her grew and grew.
“You taste amazing,” Michael said. He tugged on her labia, plunged his tongue into her passage.
Her whole body ignited. Something was happening, something big. Little pings of pleasure jolted through her each time his tongue hit her clit. The sparks broadened, intensifying, and soon her entire pussy was pulsing. Big. This was fucking big! She breathed rapidly, focusing on the steady need building within her. Part of her longed to break away, escape this mounting gratification. It was too much really, just too much. Time wasn’t suspending. She was still fully coherent. But how could the whole world be centered in her pussy? Her hips moved, seemingly of their own volition, matching each stroke of Michael’s tongue. He lapped at her, sucked her, and when he forced one finger into her slick channel…
Explosion .
The contractions started inside her but soon encompassed her entire vulva and radiated upward to her belly and chest, outward to her arms and legs. Words left her mouth, words over which she had no control. “Michael…God, Michael…so good…again….again!”
The orgasm rolled through her, and just when she thought the waves were subsiding, they started again. He thrust his fingers in and out of her.
“That’s it, baby. Come again. Come for me.”
The line between reality and fantasy dimmed as thrill after thrill shot through her. Nothing existed except her and Michael and such intense pleasure she could barely comprehend it. She floated downward gently, and when the contractions finally subsided, she lay still, spent.
A faint kiss on her lips jarred her back to reality. She opened her eyes to see Michael’s green-brown gaze locked onto hers.
“You have the softest, sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted,” he said. He kissed her lips again, tracing them with his tongue. “I haven’t even come close to having enough of you.”
She smiled against his lips, the zest of her own juices teasing her tongue. Should she tell him that had been her very first orgasm ever? That he’d shown her something amazing that she’d only imagined until now?
No. That would spoil his fantasy, if he had one, of bedding the erotic romance author. She’d play the experienced woman tonight. She’d play Starr.
“Lucky for you then,” she said, “because it just so happens that I’m not going anywhere.”