Natalie
Never did I think I was that type of girl.
The kind getting hot and bothered by the low command in a man’s voice.
But here I am, trembling to a stop while he sits in front of me, his pants undone, the large bulge reminding me of how it felt to be pressed up against it back at the club.
The air in the large hotel room is cool, and my spiky heels sink into the soft carpet beneath my feet as I think about a movie I saw once where the girl tosses her hair, lowers herself to the floor and crawls to the man she wants.
Me, who’s never wanted to be around anyone.
I never felt like I was missing something when I saw other couples.
I certainly enjoy reading hotter scenes in my romance novels and I absolutely can satisfy those urges myself.
In my mind, I didn’t ever need anyone to do it for me.
But right now, I want to hear every filthy word that was ever whispered and I want it whispered by a dark, sultry voice. I want to feel the carpet under my knees as I crawl, panting and desperate to this man with the sinful body.
I want Ajax, heavy and hard inside me, his hands rough on my skin, his teeth sharp on my nipples.
I wanted him the minute I felt that hand on my leg, and again when he oh-so-carefully took care of the tape on my skin and oh, I was wet with wanting him when I watched him punch his brother in the face, despite the awful fear crawling down my back at Castor’s words.
It’s like I’m some medieval princess who was won in a conquest. And to the victor goes the virgin.
And it’s ridiculous but I can’t deny how turned on I am by that fantasy.
“Take off your jeans.” His gravelly voice is hoarse, the sound of it in the silence of the room raising goosebumps on my bare arms. My fingers drop to the buttons of my jeans, quickly undoing them and sliding them down my legs.
I can’t get them off over my shoes, so I bend over fiddling with the straps.
“Turn around.”
I blow out a strand of hair that’s fallen over my face. “I’m just taking off my shoes.”
“I didn’t tell you to talk.” His hand drops back to his bulge, massaging it and I nearly cry. I want his hands on me.
“I told you to turn around.”
Slowly, I turn and bend at the waist, fingers clumsy on the strap across my ankle.
I hear his groan and I know he can see the dark silk from the wetness on my pale pink panties.
I can feel them between my legs, and I stretch slightly to make them ride up more, to create the friction I need against my sensitive flesh.
“I see what you’re doing to that juicy pussy. Does it ache, baby?”
It did ache. Nothing has ever felt this urgent, and I work the other shoe, stepping out of them to curl my abused feet into the soft carpet, when I realize Ajax is right behind me, his hands gliding up my bare thighs.
I freeze when his hands go to my hips, pulling me back against his leather clad legs.
His hard ridge surges against me and I push back, wanting the pressure of him to ease the ache inside me.
My heart is racing but it’s not like at the club, this isn’t fear, this is pure excitement.
“Tell me what you want.”
“You.”
“Not good enough.” He places one hand on my back, pushing my shoulders down, while he slowly circles his hips. His groan vibrates through me and I gasp. “I want you inside me.”
“Not good enough,” he says, caressing my skin with his free hand like he can’t stop touching me.
“Please,” I’m panting. My muscles are burning and I’m soaking wet as every little nudge he gives me is bringing me closer and closer to pleasure.
“Tell me what you want me do.”
He stops, pulling away from me, drawing his hand down my back. “Are you too shy to ask for what you want?”
“Maybe I don’t know what to say.” God I’m awful at this and my brain is misfiring all over the place. I can’t think when his hands are on me.
He urges me to stand and turn, drawing me back to the couch. “I want you to tell me how you’re feeling.” He kisses me, deep and hot and wet, his tongue stroking mine.
“Like I’m going to scream if you don’t touch me.”
He sits, pulling me into his lap where I immediately try to get closer to the pressure I want. I’m almost too sensitive, my breasts aching to be touched, the hot wet heat between my legs needing to be stroked. He grips my hips, keeping me from where I want to be.
“Little professor.” His words feel like a stroke of silk across my skin. “You need to teach me what you want.”
I whimper, needing to be close to him. He’s still practically fully dressed, and I want to see him naked; I want him to be as needy as I am.
“Don’t pout little professor. I’ll give you exactly what you want.” He leans forward and sucks my bottom lip between his teeth. “But first you need to give me what I want.”
“I thought you wanted me.”
The sting of his hand on my ass makes me jump. Did he just spank me? He’s watching me closely and then does it again, a deliberate smack that feels … good.
“I do want you. I want all of you. But if I can only have you once, I’m making the most of it.” He leans back, sliding his hands to my hips. “Now. Tell me about what makes you feel good.”
I shiver, feeling the heat spread across my face. I can’t talk about that out loud. “Ahh, we are shy. Professor, I need some instruction about what you want. Let’s call it class expectations.” He squeezes my thighs. “Let’s start with something easy. Do you touch yourself?”
I nod shyly.
“Do you watch anything while you do it?”
“No… sometimes I read.” The back of my neck prickles. This is so embarrassing and so hot at the same time.
“Are you in bed?”
“Usually.”
“Tell me what scenes get you hot.”
I’m rocking on his lap, and he taps my backside again. “Stay still.”
I obey and he smiles, swiping a lock of blond hair out of his face.
His fingers glide, featherlight up the inside of my thigh and he skates along the crotch of my panties.
My legs widen and he hooks a finger inside the soaked fabric, rubbing one knuckle up the seam of my pussy.
I try to get closer, but he removes his hand. “Tell me.”
“I like it when the man uses his mouth on the woman.”
“Would you like me to do that to you?”
“Yes.”
“You have to talk me through it. I want to hear the excitement in your voice. I want to know how it feels for you when my tongue laps at your sweetness, where you are most sensitive and whether you’d like one finger or two filling you while I suck on your little bud.”
I’m going to fall apart just from the sensations aroused by his voice. “I want all of that.” I say, like I’m at an ice cream bar with limitless toppings. I hear the breathlessness in my voice. “I want to feel your mouth on me.”
“Where?” That low husky drawl makes it seem like he has all the time in the world, but his sharp cheekbones flush dark red and his chest is rising and falling like he’s in a race.
The tip of his cock lies outside of his pants and I’m desperate to stroke it to see what it feels like, if I can make him groan and shake the way he’s doing to me.
I want to be sexy and so desirable he can’t take his hands off me.
“Where do you want my mouth, Professor?”
I slide my hand down over the wetness between my legs, watching his eyes follow and he swallows hard.
“Here. On my pussy.” I think about the books I’ve read alone in bed, what gets me hot, the dirty words that make me open my legs wider, rub myself a little faster.
“I want you to spread me and lick deep inside me.”
Ajax covers my hand with his, curling his fingers around mine. “This is making you so wet, isn’t it?” He slips a finger around the fabric of my panties and pushes inside. “I could play with you all night.”
A wave of desperate need washes over me. “The night is almost over.”
He glances over my shoulder. “You’re right. And a one-night stand ends when the sun comes up.” The sky is brightening behind me as he pushes his finger deep, a slow caress that still doesn’t give me what I want. I moan, riding his hand. He leans forward, “I want to watch you come.”
“I want your clothes off.”
His finger slips out. “I thought I was the one giving the orders here?”
Desperation makes me bold. “You told me to say what I want.”
He laughs softly. “I did, didn’t I?” He gently hooks his arm under my leg sliding me off his lap as he stands, pulling his shirt off in that sexy one-hand over the head pull guys do in movies all the time.
His chest is broad and deeply tanned and I see his sexy tattoo is actually something that looks kind of like a Viking emblem.
With his blonde hair and pale eyes, his chest heaving as he shoves his pants to the floor, the whole scene reminds me of a book I once read about a Viking warrior and his kidnapped bride.
I’m only too eager to be ravished. He falls to his knees next to the couch and tugs me around so my legs are on either side of those big shoulders, and he drags his teeth along my inner thigh. “You are so beautiful.”
“So are you,” I say, reaching forward to sweep his hair off his forehead. He looks up at me and while his gaze is hot, it’s also somehow tender and again I have no idea how I ended up here tonight, about to lose my virginity to a rock star.
He hooks his fingers around my panties and leans back, sliding the wet, wrinkled fabric down my legs. He bunches them in his fist and brings it to his face, inhaling deeply. “You smell good enough to eat.”
My teeth sink into my bottom lip, hard. Having him kneeling between my legs, my panties in his hand, looking like he’s about to ravage me is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Never in my wildest imaginings could I dream this up.
“Bon appétit?”
He bursts into laughter and I cringe. I’m pushed beyond desperation and my mind is working overtime. Did I really just say that? “I’m so sorry.”