Chapter 3
THREE
Noelle
It’s hard to navigate through the crowd around us, but I make it work, pushing my way past some people and slipping between others like a plane maneuvering between two landmarks that are just a little too close to each other.
I don’t look behind me while I run, but I can still feel Eric hot on my tail. There’s something powerful about him; just talking to him, he seems like a nice enough guy – maybe a little bit ditzy, but still nice. He radiates a strong, powerful energy, though, that sends a shiver down my spine.
In life, I’m not a weak person. I’ve built up a thick skin and I like to think that I wear it well.
But right now? Right now, I want this big, strong man to catch me and tear me apart, piece by piece.
I duck and weave through the club until I reach the exit, and I check on either side of me to determine which direction will be the best to choose, opting for the left near the alley next to the club.
I know that I should probably be worried that no one seems to care that I’m obviously running from something, but I’m too busy being glad that no one is interrupting our game.
The alleyway is empty, aside from a few large dumpsters and some discarded furniture, which I toss behind me as a blockade, but it doesn’t stop Eric.
I hear him growl from behind me and I look over my shoulder to see him vault over a downed chair as if it takes him no effort.
White hot lava pools between my legs at the sight of him.
The look on his face is feral; locked in on his target and ready to pounce at any second.
The thought of him catching me sends my clit throbbing and forces me to work even harder to focus on my goal of simulated escape.
I feel him before I see him as my body is slammed forward against a wall, and I let out a whimper in response. Eric’s body presses hard against my back, holding me in place, and I can feel his chest heaving with every breath that he takes.
“You got a safe word, Sugar?”
I shake my head.
“Make one.”
“Red,” I breathe, squirming beneath his touch.
My forearms brace against the stucco wall while he works quickly to get my shorts off, yanking them down to my ankles, and judging by the clinking metal sounds of a belt buckle, his pants drop seconds after.
His foot comes between mine to kick them apart, and I let him, my chest heaving with the anticipation.
He gives me every inch of his cock with no warning; he’s big and thick and he fills me up in a way that makes me see stars. His fist balls in my hair as he enters me, and he yanks my head backward, forcing me to look at him; the two sensations combine to make me yelp.
With my head pulled back, I watch his face while he fucks me; focused, hungry.
I don’t care about the stucco digging into my skin, even though I think that it’s cutting me.
I’m completely drowned in his eyes, such a pale blue they could be silver; and the cologne of spice and wood fills my nose, overloading my senses. He smells rugged, strong.
It suits him.
Eric’s mouth drops to my neck, biting hard at my skin, and I whimper in response, my body buckling.
He uses his body to press mine harder into the wall, forcing me to straighten and making the stucco dig in deeper to my flesh.
The pain of it is such a contrast to the overwhelming pleasure shooting through the rest of my body, I actually find myself welcoming it.
He bites me again with a moan, and I can’t take it anymore. Every nerve ending is on fire, and I explode, crying out against the wall as climax takes over my body in fierce waves of electricity.
I rock my hips against his until he follows suit, grunting into my ear as he fills me with a soothing warmth that leaves me so incredibly satisfied.
“Fuck, Sugar.”
Withdrawing from me, he pulls his jeans back up and fastens them, and I do the same with my shorts while I stare at him, semi-stunned by what just happened between us.
“Shit,” he says, grabbing one of my arms. “You’re bleeding.”
“Oh.” I turn my arm over and, sure enough, I am. It’s not much; just a gnarly scrape from the stucco, but my skin is definitely angry. “It’s not a big—”
Before I can even finish my sentence, my arm is in the air and his mouth is on my skin, dragging his tongue over the small nicks, like an animal trying to lick a wound clean. I don’t pull my arm away; I let him do it, gaping at him the entire time, the two of us holding eye contact with each other.
Who is this guy?
·
Eric holds my arm under a warm stream of water in the bathroom sink of his suite, so tenderly that right now, he could be a completely different man from the man that was in the alley with me.
Pumping a dollop of soap into his hand, he carefully spreads it over my skin, and I hiss at the sting of it.
The music playing from the living room disappears while I watch him clean my wounds; the veins of his arms flexing as he coats my skin in suds, the focus in his pale blue eyes, like he feels responsible. Like it’s his job to fix this.
“You know, Sugar, when you’re bleeding,” he drawls, “that’s probably a good time to use your safe word.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him. “I kind of liked it.”
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth while he cleans my skin – something I could easily do on my own if I felt like it was even necessary, which I don’t, but I let him do it anyway. His gentle touches are just as electric as the rough ones are.
I came out here for a solo adventure, a little break from my day-to-day life, and judging by the way that Eric is keeping this hotel room, I think he did the same. Yet somehow, we keep finding each other.
I was joking when I said that this was fate, but now...stranger things have happened, I guess.