4. Jenna
Chapter four
Jenna
He peels his shirt off slowly, watching me as my eyes rake over his toned, tanned, and chiseled chest, down to his endlessly rippled abs. I feel my mouth hang open, so I snap it shut, wishing I could wipe the corners of my lips with my fingertips.
There doesn’t need to be evidence of me thinking he’s edible.
It’s like he’s stepped right out of a photoshoot, and jumped directly into my wildest fantasy. It’s the only way this scenario makes any sense.
He’s playing you like a fiddle , my subconscious tries to warn me, but I shake her off.
I deserve to have one night with the hottest man to ever walk the planet, and that snarky, self conscious version of me doesn’t get to decide otherwise.
His palms trace up the back of my thighs, the calluses on his hands dragging against my skin, slowly making their way to my ass. A loud groan rumbles through his chest, straight into the pit of my stomach.
Why is he groaning?
Does he not like what he feels?
Can he feel the individual bumps from my cellulite?
Can he somehow feel the texture changes in my skin from soft to stretch marks?
Before I can stop myself, I pull my eyes away from the incredible specimen in front of me, spotting the light switch right beside us on the wall, and my hand finds it like a magnetic field.
The room instantly darkens, and his hands pull away from me, fumbling along the wall. “Please don’t.” I accidentally beg, my voice sounding weak and pathetic, and the sound of his hand thrashing against the wall stops, and I feel him place them back on my skin, softer than they were.
“But I want to see you,” he tells me. There’s no demand in his tone. He’s telling me what he wants, but not forcing me to do it. “I’ve thought about you all night, Snow.” He snakes his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him, and the bitch that is my body betrays me.
She moves closer, sinking into him like butter, melting in the warmth that he radiates.
“I don’t do lights,” I reply quickly, ignoring the ridiculous nickname, hopeful he doesn’t push the issue.
He’s also a complete stranger.
He doesn’t owe me anything. But then I realize that I don’t owe him a damn thing, either.
“It’s either lights off, or nothing at all.”
I whimper as his lips dot kisses against my rib cage, making me hate myself for fighting this so badly when all I want is to give in and never see him again.
“Can we compromise?” he asks when his lips break away from me, my body aching to feel the connection again—to feel any part of him against any part of me.
“What do you propose?” I ask, dipping my head lower. This time, it’s me who initiates the kiss.
I just need more.
One of his hands cups the side of my cheek, the other grips my hair from underneath to deepen the kiss, but when he pulls away, he nods to the lamp on the nightstand. My cheeks puff out with an exhale. I know I’m about to regret this with everything fiber of my being.
You’ll never have to see him again.
“Fine.” I don’t think the word completely left my lips when he slammed our mouths back together, pulling me down on top of him. He fumbles for the switch on the lamp until his hotel room lights up ever so slightly.
He curses under his breath at the lack of glow, and I chuckle against his lips.
The way our bodies curve together— mold together—like we were sculpted as a pair. A piece of art to be displayed in a museum for decades to come.
His arm is still looped around my waist, pulling me down tighter on top of his until I wriggle free from his hold.
Pulling my lips away from his, I pepper kisses across his jaw, down his neck, covering every inch of his torso until my mouth lingers around the waistband of his pants.
He sucks in a deep breath.
“What’s wrong, Mr. GQ? Never had your cock sucked before?” He freezes at the nickname I’d given him in my head, but I ignore it, quirking a brow sarcastically instead. I hope my actions come across as confident and flirty, and not at all desperate.
Slowly, I unbuckle his belt, watching as his eyes somehow grow darker than their natural shade.
“Funny.” He scoffs, but his scoff turns into a loud moan when I unzip his pants, and pull out his cock, leaving me no choice but to hold it between both of my hands.
How is this man real?
Stroking the length of him in my palms, I slowly lick the head as he rests comfortably on his elbows, eyes wide, watching me like his life depends on it. Like he’s never seen anything like it before. Gripping my fingers around the base, I wrap my lips around the tip, steadying myself on my knees before sliding his cock down the back of my throat as far as it’ll allow.
“Fuck me , Snow.” I don’t think he’s asking for me to actually fuck him. Not yet, at least, anyway. It’s more of a statement of how my lips feel around him, and damn, it makes me feel good watching a man like him come undone for a woman like me.
His hands grip my ponytail, attempting to control the movement of my bobbing head, but I move myself to the side, pulling my mouth off his cock. “Let me control this,” I tell him, and he sighs, laying flat on the bed, feigning defeat.
Snickering, I do exactly what I told him I would.
I control the situation as if I know what the hell I’m doing, licking and sucking the tip and down his length, refusing to gag on it and give him a big head.
He’s already arrogant. He doesn’t need the sound of me choking on the size of his cock to add fuel to his over-inflated ego fire.
“ Fuck , Snow. Your mouth feels…” His next words are inaudible, but I pay them no mind, determined to—“Up here. Now. Sit on my face,” he commands me.
I mumble the word ‘no’ with my mouth a little too full to speak.
“I’m not asking you. I’m telling you.”
Slipping my mouth off his cock, I look up the length of his body. “I’m too…” I shake my head to rid the thought from my mind, and instead say, “I’ll suffocate you.” I stare at him in silence, disbelief washing the smug expression clean off his face.
“And if you do, put it on my gravestone, ‘Suffocated while eating pussy,’” he mocks, his hands fanning out in front of us, and I can’t stop the laugh that erupts from inside of me. “A man could only be so lucky.” He licks his lips.
Sitting up, his back now hunched over and leaning closer to me, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, looking deep into my soft, blue eyes with his dark ones, and says, “Are you going to sit on my face, or am I going to have to fuck you so hard that you’re begging to feel my tongue against your clit, Snow? I can’t say I mind either way, but I know what I would prefer right now.”
I swallow hard, grateful he can only make out my silhouette and not the expression on my face. Because that alone would be a dead giveaway that he’s stirring something inside of me, I’m not sure how to combat.
“I—” I pause with that thought. No man has ever left me speechless, yet somehow, he’s done so tonight on more than one occasion. It’s as concerning as it is exciting.
“That’s what I thought. Up. Face. Now .” His words are firm, his eyes boring into the depths of my soul, and I want so badly to refuse, but I can’t. I need to let myself experience this for the first time, and no matter how hard the self-conscious girl inside of me tries to plead with me, to tell me how bad of an idea this is, I decide to do it, anyway.
I’m tired of listening to the devil on my shoulder, so I listen to the one seated naked in front of me instead.
I’m never going to see this man again, so even if it ends terribly, I won’t have the constant reminder.
Unless you break his neck.
Shoving the thought away, I watch as he slides his body to the top of the bed, and I crawl toward him, thanking past Jenna for choosing to wear lingerie tonight and not Spanx or high-waisted granny panties that could probably have belonged to Dorothy.
“Are you sure?” I ask him, because if I sense any sort of hesitation at all, I’m running as fast as I can out that door, and never speaking a word of this again.
“I’m so fucking sure.” Gripping my ass cheeks in his hands, he lifts my body with ease, placing my pussy directly onto his face, but I involuntarily move my body from an outright sitting position to a hover. He grunts in disapproval. “When I say ‘sit’, Snow, I mean fucking sit.”
Looping his biceps around my thighs, he tugs my body back down firmly onto his face, sliding my thong to the side, and my entire body shudders on top of him, hips bucking unwillingly. Fighting the urge to ride his tongue until I lose all self control, I lift myself slightly above his mouth, hoping he can breathe, yet so desperately needing to feel his tongue against me.
“ Fuck .” I hiss, holding the headboard for leverage, and he groans, licking and sucking my pussy feverishly. I’ve never been tasted like this before. “Please don’t stop,” I beg him. I’ve never ever been one to beg, but this feeling is something I will happily plead for. One I will crave until it takes over every part of me, and I’m suddenly running for dear life, sprinting to the edge of oblivion. The orgasm sneaks up on me so quick, I barely have time to register it before I freefall over the edge, and into the most powerful sensation I’ve ever felt.
He mumbles something I can’t decipher, his lips vibrating against the most sensitive part of me. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s given me my first release of the night when he’s barely really even tried.
This orgasm came easily because the experience is new , I try to convince myself, but I feel like a fool knowing just how wrong I am, and how right this feels.
Slowly, his arms release my thighs, fingertips tracing the length of them, working their way up to the place I need them most. He sucks his finger, his dark eyes lift to mine, and he slides the tip of a finger inside of me. I gasp for air, clawing at his head, his chest, his arms; anywhere I can dig my nails into. “God fucking dammit, I’m going to come again,” I warn him.
“Do it,” he says, picking up the pace of his tongue and finger while I rock back and forth. I moan so loud, I’m almost certain the entire hotel could hear it, but I don’t cover my mouth to soften the sounds—I let them run free.
Stars float behind my eyelids, my body shuddering, chest rising and falling heavily as I try to catch my breath while remaining positioned over his face.
The moment leading up to this; I felt sexy.
But now, I just feel vulnerable and desperate to be clothed.
Slowly and awkwardly, I lift one leg over and away from his head, careful to not touch any part of him before I fetch for something to cover myself up. I need a plan of escape. Because that one orgasm alone will tide me over for the foreseeable future.
“What do you think you’re doing, Snow?” He watches me carefully, his arm bent behind his head as I pick up what’s left of my dress. I groan when I realize the state of it.
Ripped down the middle, and utterly destroyed.
I cannot roam the busy streets of L.A. in this .
“Looking for something to wear so I can leave,” I tell him honestly, refusing to make eye contact. I’ll cave the moment I do. He’s the love of my life for the night. I don’t need for him to be the love of my life for the morning, too.
“Did you have twelve orgasms?” He asks me as I find a shirt of his, holding it up to cover myself.
“No,” I admit with the slight shake of my head, biting the insides of my cheek. I feel the heat behind them rising.
“Then we are not finished.” He rises to his knees, the white sheet clinging to his tanned skin around his waist when he holds a hand out for me.
I hesitate.
But only for a millisecond before I throw his shirt down onto the ground and make my way back up to the bed to join him.
He kept to his word.
Actually, that’s a lie. He promised me twelve orgasms, but he delivered on fourteen. We spent the entire night kissing every inch and tracing every part of each other’s bodies. He fucked me mercilessly from behind and on top, and I rode him until the sun came up, until I couldn’t physically handle feeling him stretch and fill me any longer.
My alarm blares through the speaker of my almost dead phone, and I jolt up from what feels like thirty minutes of slumber. When I check the time, I know it’s only been fifteen.
“What sort of alarm is that?” He groans, one arm splayed across his eyes to block out the light, the other with a gentle grip on my left breast.
Before we dozed off, he promised to go again, and I would if I didn’t have somewhere to be.
“The only kind that wakes me,” I say in a hurry, a smile slapped across my face. As I reach for my phone to check the time, my grin immediately fades.
“Fuck!” I shout. He quickly sits up, disoriented on practically zero sleep, and no doubt dehydrated because of the sheer amount of fluids that left his body over the last twelve hours. “I have to go. Last night was fun. See you…probably never. The sex was great. Bye,” I ramble as I throw on the shirt he was wearing, cursing myself for the lack of buttons.
I reach for my clutch, and run out of his hotel room door without another word.