Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
A h, yes. The gift shop provided us with dry clothes, the hotel gave us some basic toiletries, but no one thought to supply us with a handy box of condoms. Rude. They are not going to like the Yelp review I leave after this.
The logical, rational part of me knows it’s time to pump the brakes, immediately; but the horny, needy part of me wants to beg him to lean me over the counter and fuck me from behind anyway.
“Noooooooo,” I whine, which I feel is a fair compromise, all things considered. “You don’t have any with you?”
“I left my wallet back at Dumb-Ax.” I can sense how agonized he is by the rough, clipped way he says the words. He sounds almost angry , like he needs someone to punish, and?—
Whoa, Matilda. Rein it in, girl. “Me, too,” I half sob. And I left my phone. And my favorite blazer. But none of those things matter so much as that emergency condom I always keep stashed inside my purse.
I lower my gaze back to the mirror. For one long, drawn-out moment, our eyes meet in the reflection. I’m still holding up my shirt, flashing him my tits like it’s Mardi Gras. He’s still cupping my pussy. But we’re both completely still, staring, the moment charged with want.
“Whelp,” Kimo says abruptly, “plan B.”
And before I know what’s happening, he’s flipped me around, slung me over his shoulder with one arm, and started carrying me toward the bedroom.
* * *
He tosses me onto the bed, like my weight is nothing to his superior dad-bod strength, like I’m a sack of flour and he’s some kind of naughty baker. An odd but intriguing image of him in an apron—and nothing but an apron—springs to my mind and has me practically salivating. Okay, completely salivating. I prop myself up on my elbows, watching him closely to see what he’ll do next.
He’s eying me like I’m a tasty snack. I half expect him to lick his lips, and—oh, wait, there he goes, actually licking his lips. This move should look ridiculously cartoonish, but I remember what that tongue was just doing to me a moment before and shiver with anticipation. He arches an eyebrow at me, and his expression is pure filth. “Take off your clothes.”
That order makes me instinctively bristle, even as it simultaneously sends a little ping of excitement straight to my core. I arch an eyebrow back at him. “You first.”
It’s not that I don’t want to get naked. I desperately want to get naked. I want to do all the naked things together. But I’m used to calling the shots, leading the dance, so to speak. And I want to set the tone, straightaway—so there won’t be any confusion—that I’m the boss.
If Kimo takes umbrage at being ordered around, he doesn’t show it. He straightens, giving me a hold-my-beer smirk, then starts twitching his hips. “Ugh, ugh,” he sings under his breath, setting his own rhythm as he slowly begins to lift his shirt, never breaking eye contact with me. “Boom chicka boom boom...”
I blink at him. Is he doing his own bad ’70s porno music now...? But somehow butchering the lyrics? “I think you mean bow chicka wow wow.”
He ignores my feedback, untangling himself from his tank and tossing it over his shoulder. As expected by his shape in clothing, his chest is big and broad with a light smattering of hair, his torso like a barrel. He’s not fat, but he doesn’t have a ripped six-pack either; to my surprise, I find the whole spectacle powerfully erotic, even as it’s over-the-top ridiculous. His utter self-confidence, how much fun he’s having, how much he’s feeling himself, is a complete turn-on.
I can’t help it—I laugh. I’m horny and totally aroused and laughing, and that is a complete and total first for me.
Pivoting so his back is to me, Kimo continues moving his hips as he starts tugging down his sweatpants and briefs. At the first glimpse of his perfect crescent moon of an ass peeking out, my laugh instantly dies in my throat, and my mouth runs dry.
Then his pants are down, and he’s kicking them off his feet, revealing his backside in all its glory. And I mean glory . His back is broad and thick, muscles rippling underneath his skin. His legs, too, are long and strong and well-defined. And his ass... my God, his ass. I’ve never seen something so round and juicy. I have to fight the urge to lunge at him and sink my teeth into it.
I’m so absorbed by his backside that I don’t even notice when he starts to turn around, until all at once he’s facing me again, completely and unabashedly naked. My eyes instantly hone in on his cock.
“Oh my God,” I blurt, unable to help myself. I’m sure my eyes must be cartoonishly wide as I take in the sight of his huge, half-erect cock.
He must like me staring at it, because it quickly goes from half to fully erect. When I drag my gaze up to his, Kimo is smirking at me. No false modesty—a motto we share in common, apparently.
Taking his smirk as a challenge, I rise up on to my knees. He won’t get a dance from me, but let’s be real—what man actually needs an erotic dance if he’s about to see a naked chick? I tug off my shirt with no preamble, tossing it aside. Then, just to be petty, I turn my back to him doing the same slow tease of revealing my ass bit by bit.
Or at least, I’m trying to. I barely make it halfway before Kimo pushes me down onto my belly, impatiently tugging off my shorts and panties and dropping them to the floor. Then he peppers my bare back with kisses, as his strong hands massage my ass and his big cock bumps up against the backs of my legs, a friendly reminder that it’s there.
Not that I could forget. Oh, God. Why don’t we have a condom...! “Maybe the gift shop is still open?” I gasp out desperately.
His voice is a low murmur across my skin. “Nope. Everything closes at, like, eight around here. They had to call the owner back from his house just to open it up and get us some clothes.”
“Did you get his phone number? We could call him again!”
Kimo laughs softly, warm breath dancing over my skin and sending goose bumps across my shoulders. “That would be a no.”
I will not give up! There has to be a solution. “Maybe the hotel has some?”
This time, Kimo’s laugh is not soft, but a full chortle. “Did you see the lady who checked us in here? You really think she has condoms?”
I did, in fact, see her. Her name is Bea, she looks like she’s about 140 years old, and she has knitted lace doilies across every available surface in the lobby. She might actually die from shock if we called down to ask for a condom—preferably more than one, if she has them.
It might actually be worth the risk to try.
Kimo moves away suddenly, and I hear the bed squeak as he gets off it. “Put it out of your mind, baby. We’re still gonna enjoy ourselves tonight, I promise.”
Baby? That feels kind of...intimate, coming from someone I’ve known for less than forty-eight hours and will probably never see again after tomorrow. But, whatever, a man can’t really be held accountable for what he says pre-ejaculation anyway.
The next second, it really is put out of my mind—or rather, pulled , as Kimo suddenly takes hold of my legs and drags me toward the edge of the bed. I’m still belly-down on the mattress, but my ass is hanging precariously close to tumbling to the floor. “What are you doing?” I bark out, more harshly than I intend.
“Spread your legs, honey. Let me worship that sweet pussy with my mouth.”
I feel another spike of heat low in my abdomen at his words, even as a spike of panic shoots through the rest of me. “Uh, no. It’s okay. Why don’t I just give you a blow job?”
“Hmm. Maybe later.” I feel him getting into position under me, bracing my thighs with his shoulders, but he pauses before fully committing. “You okay with this?”
It’s fine , I reason with myself. “It’s fine,” I say aloud, maybe just a tad too forcefully. “Just, ah, I don’t have my vibrator, so I probably won’t finish. Unless—and listen carefully to this. Actually, you might want to write it down...”
I proceed to give Kimo the exact play-by-play and precise order of operations he’ll need to follow to get me to come, down to the exact amount of pressure at each step and when it should be applied.
When I finish, Kimo is silent. “Did you get all that?” I ask him.
His response is a light smack to my bottom—not quite a slap, mind you, but no gentle tap, either. “Listen, baby. You can be in charge everywhere else. Hell, I’ll love it when you give me orders. But here, now, with my face in your pussy, I’m the boss. Capisce?”
I should tell him to take a hike. But my general horniness, or the fact that he just said capisce like golden-era Uncle Jesse, has me shutting up and spreading my legs.
It’s probably good he can’t see my face, with the inevitable disappointment I’m bound to feel written across it. But because I can’t see him or track what he’s doing, I gasp in genuine surprise when I feel his fingers trailing over the skin of my thighs, teasing me with light brushes that get closer and closer to my core. Just when I think he’s going to touch me there, where I most need him, his hands pull back, gripping me by my thighs and pushing them even wider.
“Mmm.” I feel his words on my skin, at my center, his mouth closer than I thought it was. “Look at you...”
The first stroke of his tongue is bolder than I anticipated, and I gasp, instinctively jerking up off the mattress. He responds by tightening his grip on my thighs. His shoulders push up under my legs, lifting up my lower half. I hear his grunt of satisfaction as he finds just the right angle and begins to lap at me—the pressure less forceful now, but still with dogged intensity. His tongue alternates between rough and soft, soothing and torturing, but always determined to explore every part of me.
It’s clear he’s listened to absolutely none of my instructions, but I’m still whimpering and moaning like he’s somehow managed to jump straight to step 7. I’m embarrassed, actually, at the sounds I’m making, the sounds I thought only happened when women were faking it, trying to make their partners feel better. I grip the sheets and press my face into the mattress, trying to muffle myself, but Kimo doesn’t seem to like that. After a grunt and another light tap to my bottom, he tightens his grip on both my thighs and buries his face into my pussy. The moans of appreciation he makes reverberate through the softest, most responsive parts of me. His tongue swirls around my clit a few times before his lips enclose it, and he begins sucking, sucking, sucking...
“Oh my God,” I blurt out as my thighs begin shaking, and then I’m catapulted over the edge without warning, without mercy. I shudder and cry out, too overcome to try to muffle the sound. For a moment, I can’t breathe, and for a moment, I don’t actually care.
“Holy shit,” I say when I’m able to catch my breath and form coherent thought again.
I angle my head back to look at Kimo and find him smirking at me shamelessly, waggling his eyebrows, before he boldly, lasciviously, licks his full, soft lips.
As soon as the intense euphoria wears off, some post-orgasm anxiety starts to kick in. I understand what to do when I’m engaging in the physical part of sex, the dance with clear-cut rules and expectations. It’s afterward that I feel a little lost, especially when we’re on an uneven playing field. If my partner and I have both climaxed, well, fair is fair, have a nice life. If he’s the only one who’s climaxed, I have no problem telling him he owes me and better make things right, but it’s always a real mood killer when the guy acts like it’s a chore. But when only I’ve orgasmed...well, come to think of it, that’s never happened before. I’m in uncharted waters. Hence, the anxiety.
“You want a blow job?” I ask him brusquely over my shoulder, determined to get any weirdness out of the way. I won’t make him demand it, like I’ve had to do sometimes.
Kimo rises to his feet and seems to consider my offer for a moment, as he leisurely smooths his hands over my lower back, my ass. This motion is calm and deliberate, not frantic and horndog-ish, like I might expect it to be from a man who’s at full mast. “No, thanks.”
I blink at him in astonishment. I have never, in all my life, known a man to turn down a blow job. And believe me, I made up for lost time after I left my order. Noticing how he’s still rubbing up and down my backside, another idea strikes me. “You want to jack off on my ass? Or I can roll over if you prefer my boobs.”
He sighs. “Nah.”
Again with the nah ! I’ve never been so infuriated by a word before. “We don’t have any lube, if you’re angling for anal, so don’t think for a minute?—”
Before I can finish that thought, Kimo cuts me off. “I think I’d like to just hold you, if you’re down for that.”
I can’t help the dismayed look I give him. “Hold my what?”
He laughs. “Hold you , doofus. You know, cuddle. You down?”
No. Absolutely not. Normally there’d be no way in hell that I’d curl up in bed for a spoonfest—not that, frankly, it’s something that’s been offered to me much before. But...I’ve orgasmed. He hasn’t. That leaves us unbalanced, and I don’t like to feel like I owe anyone anything. That things aren’t fair between us.
“Okay,” I agree reluctantly, not even bothering to disguise my trepidation.
Kimo winks at me. “It’s gonna be fine, Mattie. I promise. Nothing weird.”
Ha. Easy for him to say.
He gathers my clothes for me, presenting them as gallantly as if they were a bouquet of flowers. “Milady.” Once I’ve taken them, he motions back toward his adjoining room. “Be right back. I’m just gonna brush my teeth...”
I dress quickly and go into my own bathroom to get ready for bed. When I return, all the lights have been turned off except for the one on the nightstand. Kimo is lying on the bed, underneath the covers, a conspicuous spot saved for me.
Woodenly, I make my way over to him, trying not to make any physical contact as I slide into the bed, promptly turning my back so I don’t have to face him. Either willfully or unintentionally, he ignores my cues and wraps an arm around my waist, tugging me closer to him so we are properly spooning. The feeling of his warm body pressed against mine is...not terrible, I have to admit, even though it is weird. I notice his hard-on is gone, so either he took care of things in his room, or he’s been picturing fungus or something.
He yawns into my hair. “I’m beat. You want to watch TV for a bit, or are you ready to go to bed?”
“I’m ready to sleep.” No need to prolong this awkwardness. Plus, between the intense adrenaline rush of being kidnapped and escaping being kidnapped, followed by hours in a police station, followed by one of the most intense orgasms I’ve ever had... I’m exhausted.
“Mmm. G’night.” Kimo switches off the light, then promptly goes back to cuddling me again.
I lie awake for a long time, just staring straight ahead into the dark. There’s no way I can sleep like this, in this foreign bed in this unfamiliar room, smushed up against a big radiator of a man...
But the next thing I know I’m drifting back into consciousness just long enough to see that the clock on the nightstand reads past two in the morning, and Kimo’s arm is still looped around me. His soft, rumbly breathing quickly lulls me back to sleep.