Isabelle #2
Already, he's better than anything I've ever had before.
I'm not letting him out of my bed until the morning, I decide dimly in the back of my mind, as his fingers curl inside of me and his lips ghost down my throat.
I brace myself against his chest, feeling the heat of his skin against my fingers, the soft dark hair there, the dampness of sweat on his skin.
He groans at my touch, abdomen flexing, and I can imagine how hard he is, straining against his pants with the urge to get inside me.
I roll my hips against his hand, fucking his fingers into me.
The driver can probably see my ass if he looks in the rearview mirror, and I don't care, not until the man beneath me grabs the hemline riding up and jerks it down sharply, his teeth nipping at my throat as he drives his fingers harder into me.
"That's just mine tonight," he growls, and fuck, that does it.
I come all over his hand. I feel myself clenching around his fingers, and I hear his muffled groan against my neck as my pussy flutters and grips him, my arousal soaking his hand as his thumb rubs my clit. "Fuck," he groans. "Good fucking girl. That's it. Keep fucking coming."
Fuck, it doesn't stop. Instead of a few quick, bright flashes of pleasure like other hookups, the orgasm seems to well up from deep within my core and flood through me, pulsing through my body like the music from earlier.
The kind of orgasm I've only ever had with a really good vibrator and dildo combination, and this man did it with his hand.
I'm going to fuck him until he can't get it up any longer.
"God, I can't wait to make you come on my fucking cock," he growls against my throat, as if he heard my thoughts.
I shudder around his fingers again, and just then, just as I think he might actually try to get me off again on his hand, the driver clears his throat, and I realize we've rolled to a stop.
The man beneath me lets out a low, rumbling laugh, and I giggle, sliding off of his lap and yanking my dress down. He looks at me, his eyes locked on mine, and the driver clears his throat again.
"Here." The man reaches into his pocket with his other hand, grabs a wad of cash, and shoves it at the driver before opening the door and bringing me out with him onto the curb in front of my hotel.
I catch a glimpse of the driver peeling away, shaking his head, right before my companion wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close.
He reaches up, pressing his two wet fingers against my lower lip.
"Taste how good you were for me, pretty girl," he murmurs, swiping my arousal over the full curve.
Normally, even I'd be embarrassed at what we did in full view of the cab driver.
I don't know how I'd feel about this. But all my inhibitions are gone, washed away in a haze of booze and sweat and dancing and impulse, and I part my lips, sucking his fingers into my mouth like I'm going to suck his cock later.
The taste of my own arousal floods my senses, and his dark eyes go darker still, pupils blown wide with lust. When I moan around his fingers, tongue curling against his roughened skin, he growls low in his throat, one hand gripping my ass as he pulls me flush against him again.
"C'mon," he mutters. "Let's get inside before I fuck you out here, and we end up in jail instead of in your bed."
I giggle at that, adrenaline rushing through my system, and we both hurry toward the front door of the hotel.
The man takes in the lobby in one quick sweep of his eyes, an eyebrow rising as he sees all the luxury—the stone floors and gold mosaic and well-dressed concierge.
He heads straight for the latter, fishing a money clip out of his pocket and peeling off several hundred-euro notes…
well over a thousand euros or more, I think.
"Send up vodka, champagne, and whiskey with mixers," he says. "Quickly, or the room service guy is gonna get an eyeful. Keep the change."
The concierge nods quickly, and then we're heading for the elevator. It's empty at this hour—most of the partiers either haven't come back yet or are already in their rooms, and I stab the button for my floor before the man spins me so that my back is against the elevator wall.
"Let's see if we can't get another out of you before we get to the room," he mutters, and then he drops to his knees in front of me, shoving up my skirt to my hips.
I gasp. "What are you doing?" I squeak, just as he yanks my thong to the side with one hand and lifts my leg over his shoulder with the other, making my question completely redundant.
The instant his tongue finds my clit, I'm in heaven.
I stare blurrily at the mirrored wall on the other side of the elevator, the sight of this gorgeous man kneeling between my thighs sending me into the atmosphere of pleasure.
His tongue is hot, wet, flat between my folds, parting them and dragging up as he eats me like he's starving.
My knees tremble and he grabs my hips with both hands, holding me in place on my one high heel as he uses his tongue on every inch of my swollen, dripping pussy.
I look at the numbers above me and realize we have four floors to go. Four, and this man is almost certainly going to make me come before we get there. I'm going to come twice before we even get back to the room.
I absolutely made the right choice when I decided to bring him back tonight.
Three. Two…
He sucks my clit into his mouth, his tongue fluttering over it, and I fall apart.
My hand grabs at the back of his neck, nails digging into the skin, but he doesn't seem to care.
He holds me up, keeping me from falling as my knees go weak and my heel tilts against the floor, my foot going sideways so that all that's keeping me up are his hands as I come hard on his tongue.
He laps at my clit, licking up the flood of arousal that's going to leave my thong drenched, and then the ding of the elevator startles me out of my haze.
He stands, bringing me with him, lifting me up against the wall. My legs wrap around his hips before I can think, and he kisses me hard, the tangy flavor of my arousal coating my lips for the second time tonight. "Taste that?" he growls as the elevator doors open. "God, you're so fucking perfect."
A thrill races down my spine as he carries me out of the elevator and down the hall, and I giggle, clinging to him as we walk.
My dress is nearly around my waist, and I'm not entirely sure my thong is covering all of my pussy right now, but I don't fucking care.
I bury my face in his throat, licking and nipping at the salty, sweaty skin until I see my room number.
"There," I manage, fumbling in my clutch for my room key. I hand it to him. "Here."
He pushes it open, just as I see the other elevator opening and room service coming toward us.
"Just in time." The man sets me down, nudging me into the room, and grabs the end of the cart, handing the boy pushing it another hundred-euro note. "I'll take it from here."
He pushes the cart into the room after me, closes the door, and pushes me up against it.
"Fuck," he growls against my mouth, nipping my lower lip. "I can't decide if I want a drink or your pussy in my mouth again or to just fuck you. Christ, I'm going to fuck you all night. Look at you." His hands run over my waist, down to my hips, squeezing, gripping. "You're so goddamn hot."
"I know." I swing my hair back from my face, looking up at him, and he laughs, a sharp bark of a sound that oddly, even through the drunken haze, makes me think he doesn't do it often.
"Well." He looks down at me, pausing. "You're not a bastion of modesty, are you?"
"Nope." I smile. "Why don't you pop the champagne, and I'll get you a little more comfortable?"
And with that, I drop to my knees, my hand reaching for his belt.
I've felt his cock up against me, and I want to see it. I feel him lean over to grab the champagne as I fumble with the buckle, my fingers clumsy as I get it open and yank his zipper down, jerking his hips forward a little.
He lets out a grunting laugh. "Easy," he murmurs, but he doesn't sound like he means it all that much. I curl my fingers into the opening of his pants, freeing his cock, and I rock back on my heels, eyes wide as it springs free.
The pop of the champagne follows, making me squeak, and he looks down at me, a slow smirk curling his lips. "Did the sound make you jump, or the size?"
"And you want to talk to me about modesty?
" He has every right not to be, though. He's fucking huge.
Eight or nine inches, I think, and thick enough that my fingers will barely meet when I wrap my hand around him.
The tip is already leaking pre-cum, his shaft slick with it, and as I lean in, it twitches eagerly.
"Mm. You want me to..." I purr, reaching to wrap my fingers around his base.
"Fuck yeah, I do." He swigs straight from the bottle of champagne, then reaches down and wraps his hand over mine around his cock, tapping his cockhead against my lower lip. "Open up, pretty girl."
I part my lips instantly, eager to obey. I expect him to push his cock inside, but instead, he just leaves it resting against my lower lip, and he brings the champagne bottle down to my mouth. "Tilt your head back."
I do, and he pours some of the expensive champagne into my mouth. It hits my tongue, bright and sparkling, and he pushes his cock in after it. He goes all the way back to my throat, and as I swallow convulsively, my throat closing around his cockhead, he groans.