Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
RACHEL
This man. He’s not my type. A little too rough around the edges, and he’s just lived such a different life than mine.
But oh, can he kiss. His hands are rough because he works with them, and he’s not a banker or whatever the hell those other guys I’ve dated do.
Those rough hands feel good on my skin, reminding me that he is all man and I am all woman, and my God, every time we touch, it’s just electric.
The biggest turn-on was he knew exactly where to touch me. He zeroed right in on that spot where I wanted him the most, no issues whatsoever in finding it. My past experience with men was more like they needed a map to discover my clit, and they still had a hell of a time.
Not Wyatt. Is he like some . . . perfect man?
No, I’m sure he’s got plenty of faults. I even witnessed a few today.
Oh, and that’s the other thing: I only just met this guy today.
And now I’m half naked with him in the back seat of my rental car, up to no good.
Eager to get down to it because I am dying to fuck him.
Maybe I’m moving too fast, but the connection is strong, and I’m pretty sure he feels it too.
Like, he can’t stop kissing me. His big hands cupping my face like he has to keep me in place for fear I’ll run away?
No worries, sir. I’m not going anywhere.
I’ve got him where I want him, and I reach in between us, never taking my mouth from his as I undo his button fly.
One after the other, they pop open, and then I’m diving my hand inside, holding his thick erection.
He groans against my mouth, his hands tightening around my face, and I rub him, impressed with his size. Though anything’s better than what I had previously. And here’s where I remember that Edmund had a rather small penis—
no. I push the thought of my previous lover’s body parts out of my brain and focus on the man who’s currently wrapped all around me. Why does he smell so good? Feel so good? There are better words to describe all of this. Amazing. Fantastic. But good works too.
I somehow work my fingers beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs and touch his bare flesh, wrapping my fingers around his thick length. He’s hot and hard yet velvety soft, and I pull away from his lips, watching his face as I stroke him.
His head falls back against the seat, his hands fumbling underneath my dress and gripping my hips while I basically jerk him off.
I’m not about to give this man a blow job because I barely know him, but I can certainly make him come like this.
Like we’re teenagers with limited time, desperate to get each other off.
“Fuck, that feels amazing.” His words come from somewhere deep inside him, his voice so low that a shiver moves through me when he speaks. The heated glow in his dark eyes as he watches me watch him makes me wet. Makes me wish we could have actual sex.
Wait a minute. What’s stopping us?
Letting go of his magnificent dick, I crawl on top of him once more, pressing my chest against his, my mouth at his ear as I whisper, “You have a condom?”
He goes completely still. “You sure you want to do that?”
Remaining quiet, I kiss his earlobe. Lick it.
He curses, his hands tightening on my waist, and I slowly flex my hips, moving my dripping pussy over his cock.
Back and forth. Slow and easy. “You didn’t answer my question.
” I go still, the throb of his erection matching the throb that steadily beats deep inside of me.
He swallows hard. I feel the movement of his throat, and I kiss his stubble-covered jaw, waiting for his answer.
“Maybe,” he chokes out. “In my wallet.”
“You should check.”
“I don’t want to move. You might stop what you’re doing.”
I smile, feeling naughty. Feeling in command, which isn’t normal for me.
Look, he’s not some wimpy beta guy who can’t take control because, clearly, he got me into this car in the first place, but right now, I’m desperate to rock his world and make him never forget me.
I want to put him in a sexual fog. A dreamlike sexual haze.
I want him to think about me thirty years from now and remember that hot city girl who practically made him come in his pants that one night after drinking at the Snowline.
I angle my hips just so, the head of his cock barely slipping inside of me, and his hands tighten on my waist, keeping me still. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I want to feel you,” I whisper against his cheek, moving so I’m facing him, our mouths on each other’s, though we’re not really kissing. “And you feel so fucking good.”
“Jesus.” He grips my hair in one fist, tugging on it, making my scalp sting.
Making my entire body more aware of every single thing we’re doing.
My thighs quiver as I hold myself in place, the head of his cock pulsating inside of me.
All I want is to feel him push all the way inside, but the death grip he has on me won’t let me move. “We can’t do this without a condom.”
I don’t take anything. Every type of birth control makes my hormones out of whack, and Eddie was always so good about using a condom. No doubt because he was also fucking Cocksbury. God, what an asshole.
“What if you pull out?” I wiggle in his grip, trying to get free, but he’s immovable. It’s aggravating. “Just a couple of thrusts.”
“No way.” He tips his head back onto the seat, his voice one of pure agony as he stares up at the ceiling. “All I want to do is fuck you, Rachel. Let me see if I have a condom.”
I pull away slightly, squinting my eyes as I watch him. He’s sweating profusely. The tendons in his neck stand out in stark relief, and his arms are shaking. As if he is using all of his strength not to just let go and unleash on me.
Who knew a man trying to show restraint could be so freaking sexy?
“Don’t move,” he demands as he reaches behind his back and fumbles around for what I’m sure is his wallet.
He pulls it out of his back pocket, flashing the simple black leather wallet at me before he flips it open and searches inside.
A triumphant smile appears on his face when he shows me the singular wrapped condom in between his pinched fingers. “Found one.”
“Thank God,” I breathe, dipping my head and watching him tear the wrapper and slip the condom onto his dick. Once he’s finished, he grabs me by the waist once again, shifting me over him, and a soft exhale leaves me.
Slowly, I work my hips, shifting my body. His grip slips, giving me more wiggle room, and I take my advantage. Flexing my lower body sends him deeper, and we both groan as I lean forward, pressing my forehead against his. He’s cursing up a storm as I sink down, taking him all the way inside of me.
We stay like that for a few seconds. Wholly connected in the truest sense of the word. I feel full, the fullest I’ve ever experienced, and he slips his fingers beneath my chin, tilting my face up, his mouth brushing mine in the sweetest, gentlest kiss.
That sweet kiss is nearly my undoing.
I start to move, controlling our speed because I’m on top, sliding all the way up before I shift my hips down until he’s filling me once again.
The drag of his cock on my inner walls has me seeing stars, I swear to God, and I clutch him close, his mouth on my throat, my head on top of his.
I ride him like we’ve done this countless times before, our sweat-coated skin slapping against each other.
I feel that familiar buzz inside of me, and I increase my pace, a silent cry leaving me when he hits a particularly deep spot.
The wave rises, hanging right on the edge, and I cry out when I feel his hands return to my hips, steadying me. Taking over the control.
He holds me still and fucks me hard, lifting his hips, groaning with every thrust. I cry out when the orgasm sweeps over me, stealing my breath, my thoughts, my everything.
I’m coming, unable to function or form words, and he follows right after me, coming with a guttural groan, his arms squeezing me tight.
We cling to each other in silence, our breath coming fast, my heart racing. I can’t believe I did this. Had sex with a stranger in a car. I’m impulsive, but not when it comes to my sex life.
This is what good dick does to me, I suppose.
“Holy.” He pants against my neck. “Shit.”
I giggle because what else can I do? The entire car reeks of sex, and for some reason, I don’t feel uncomfortable or awkward.
Instead, I crawl off him, my dress falling into place, and I’m smoothing my hair away from my face as I hear him remove the condom and tie it into a knot.
A sudden thought hits me, and I part my lips, ready to speak.
“You think Nate and Paige fucked?” he says.
I glance over at Wyatt with my jaw dropped. “I was literally just going to ask you that, but in a . . . nicer way?”
Wyatt reaches toward me, running his finger across my bottom lip like he doesn’t want to stop touching me. My skin tingles. “How would you have phrased it?”
I flutter my eyelashes at him. “Do you think Nate and Paige had sex?”
“No.” He drops his hand from my face, shaking his head.
“I don’t think so either.” Poor Paige. This is all she wants, and I get it within twenty-four hours of meeting Wyatt.
Of course, there’s a big difference between us. I’m most likely leaving tomorrow. At the very least, in the next few days. Wyatt and I will never have to see each other again, so it’s easy to exchange bodily fluids. We’ll never have to face the consequences like Nate and Paige would.
“I usually don’t have one-night stands,” I admit, my voice soft.
“That’s the only way I have sex nowadays.”
I watch him as he readjusts himself, shoving his dick back in his jeans and buttoning them up. I fight the disappointment that threatens to swallow me whole, and I realize why I don’t do this often. Ever.
I feel empty. A little bit like I was used, though I used him just as much as he did me. But still.
This isn’t the best feeling. And while I was drunk not even an hour ago, I feel completely sober now. Like, depressingly so.
“I’ve got to go,” he tells me, keeping his head averted. Like he doesn’t want to look at me. “Head on home.”
He doesn’t sound disappointed by the thought of leaving. More like he can’t get away from me fast enough. “Are you still drunk?”
“Stone-cold sober now.” He glances over at me, his gaze softening a bit, and he leans in, giving me a firm kiss on the lips that leaves me breathless when he pulls away. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget this night.”
“Good.” I lift my chin. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
His brows draw together in confusion, but I don’t bother explaining myself. “How are you feeling?”
Now I’m frowning. “What do you mean?” And do you really care?
“Are you able to drive?”
“Most definitely.” Without hesitation I grab the handle and open the door, climbing out of the car.
He does the same on his side, and we walk to the front of the car, meeting in the middle.
He stretches his long frame, his shirt riding up and offering me a glimpse of his flat stomach, and I have immediate regret that we didn’t get completely naked.
Oh well.
“Uh, I hope you have a good night,” he says with an awkward wave. He starts walking backward, his gaze never straying from me, and I don’t know how he does it. I’d fall flat on my face if I were him.
“Have a nice life, Captain Grumpy Pants,” I call to him.
His face breaks out in a wide grin, and he turns, heading for the lone SUV sitting in the lot.
I climb into the rental car and start the engine, my movements jerky as I try to beat him out of the lot.
I succeed, pulling out so quickly my tires squeal, and I grip the steering wheel tight as I lean over and grab my phone, bringing up Paige’s condo complex on the GPS.
Thank God she gave me her address. I wouldn’t have been able to find it in the middle of the night.
My stomach is hollow, and I take a deep breath, exhaling slowly.
The memories hit me one right after the other.
His mouth on mine. His fingers between my legs.
Me rubbing against his erection and getting off.
That moment with just the tip of his dick inside me and the anticipation curling in my blood.
It’s all right there, at the forefront of my mind, and of course it is. It literally just happened.
Rolling down the window, I let the cold mountain air slap me in the face, blowing away the tears that are suddenly streaking down my face. I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s stupid. I’m being too emotional, and if he saw me right now, he’d probably freak out. But oh my God. What a day.
What a freakin’ day.