1. Valeria #2
I scan up. His fingers are lean and strong, with an abstract design swirling over the back of his hand. His pants are tight enough to offer a promising glance at his bulge. Closer, I make out that the tattoo on his neck is a snake, rearing up with its fangs extended.
Angular jaw, full lips, and a sharp expression that hints at cruelty.
He could be Italian.
It’s hard to tell with his hair so short.
I hold myself very still, a prickle of fear running down my spine.
He drops his cigarette into a ceramic ashtray on the table behind me and leans forward to slip the scarf over the back of my neck.
My dislike at being touched wars with my need for release. I sit stiffly until he’s done, his icy fingers making me shiver as he pulls my short hair out from under the scarf, his thumb brushing my jawline.
He stands, considering me for a moment. “You can keep that.”
I want to tell him I have my own scarves, that I don’t need his, even if the scent of spice and cigarettes is making me salivate.
But I haven’t made up my mind whether his bad-boy look is a performance or a warning, so instead, I’m silent.
We’re locked in our strange little standoff for a moment longer, and then his interest fades. He looks away. He steps toward the door.
I release an exhale. I was wrong. He’s not a danger. He doesn’t know who I am.
I stand and catch his elbow, squeezing around his thick coat to the firm muscles there. “Wait.”
Fuck. I know I’m going to sound desperate, but I kind of am.
I nod toward the other door to the guest bedroom, my cheeks burning.
Now that my imagination’s settled, and he’s just a normal man, I’m humiliated to ask.
“Do you want…” God, it feels like there’s sand in my mouth.
“You want me to fuck you?” A hint of incredulity colors his cool voice.
I shrug, wearing a coy smile. Better he thinks I’m a shy flirt than a beggar.
His eyes narrow, and a smirk plays at the corner of his mouth. “Say it.”
The husky, teasing note in his voice flares arousal through me. And irritation. He wants this too, or he doesn’t. I’m not asking for a handout.
“No, thanks.” I let go of his coat and brush past him, stopping in front of the other door. My fingertips rest on the handle. “My mouth can be put to much better use.”
He tilts his head at an angle, considering me.
Without looking back, I twist the handle open and slip inside.
The guest bedroom is warm and dark. Music pounds against the door.
I tug off Mei’s jacket and set it over an armchair.
The click of the door behind me and the rustling of clothes tells me my stranger has followed.
I smile.
We meet in the almost darkness. His hands rise to my waist and squeeze. I curl my fingers around the nape of his neck, a thrill racing through my veins.
His breath, smoke and mint, warms my ear as he traces his mouth along my cheekbone. I arch into him, letting the last of my reservations fall away. I want his hands everywhere. I want the forgetting you can find in another person, and I know this man will give it to me.
His fingertips drop lower, flirting with the hem of my dress, skimming along my upper thighs and sparking electricity across my skin.
It’s been so long since I’ve let a man touch me. Months, maybe a year. First-time nerves flutter in my belly. I want this to be good, and—I’d never admit it—I want to impress this stranger.
I scrub my fingers along his short crop of hair, thrilling in the feel of a man.
Even with my heels, he looms over me, but I still have enough height to grind against his upper thigh.
“So eager,” he murmurs. It sounds like praise.
Power surges through me as I nip at his ear. “Take your clothes off.”
He chuckles against my throat. “Don’t you want to know my name?”
Another night, maybe I would, but tonight, I’ve already decided to be selfish. I’m being irresponsible for once and having fun, and the moment I learn his name, he’d become more than just a man—he’d be a person—and right now, the only person I can look out for is myself.
He lifts his jaw until our breaths mingle, but he doesn’t take it further. Another reason not to entangle myself any more with this guy. He’s too thoughtful—giving me his scarf and pausing at all the right moments in case I want to back out.
I hold his face in my hands and tip forward. His lips are deliciously full and part easily for me to slip my tongue inside. I taste mint for a moment until he fists a handful of my hair, tilts me back, and forces his tongue into my mouth like he wants to devour me. Pleasure arcs through me.
When he pulls away, I let out a stunned, breathless “no”.
He laughs and jerks off his coat, shedding his layers like he’s as desperate for this as I am. “Your loss. It’s a good name.”
I melt forward to spread my fingers over the hard planes of his chest—god, he must work out every day—and shove my face into the nape of his neck to inhale more of his intoxicating scent. I want to map out every scrap of this moment, to remember this long after I’ve gone.
I offer no resistance as he shimmies my dress up past my hips, my breasts, and tosses it to the side. Before I can lower my arms, he catches my wrists in one hand and holds me lightly in place, kissing me roughly and stealing the breath from my lungs.
“That was underhanded,” I say once he lets go.
“I like to fight dirty.”
He can’t see my smile as I guide him to the bed and sit him on the mattress. Finally, someone fun. “So do I.” I drop to my knees between his legs.
“Bad girl.” His long fingers thread into my hair as I peel open his jeans.
He’s not wearing boxers, and the moment I have his jeans shoved down, his cock springs into my empty hand. It fills my palm entirely, and while my pussy pulses between my legs, I hesitate.
His voice carries that teasing lilt again. “Having second thoughts?”
I want to tell him it’s the biggest cock I’ve ever held, but something tells me he doesn’t need the ego boost, so instead I squeeze him and wet my lips. “Just giving you a chance to mentally prepare.”
His laugh dies in his throat as I lick a long, wet stripe up his cock.
“So considerate,” he rasps.
My tongue meets something hard as I draw the head into my mouth—a metal ball, a piercing. I trace the shape out with my tongue. It’s a single bar that travels directly from the top of the head to the bottom.
He must be able to tolerate a lot of pain.
I wonder how it’s going to feel inside me.
His fingers curl against the back of my head as I suck him deep into my mouth.
“And so talented.” He sounds surprised.
I drag my mouth up and down him, suctioning with just the right amount of pressure, and using my hands when I need as he melts warm praise over me and rubs at my cheek with his thumb.
When I taste precum, he hauls me off my knees.
“If that’s what your mouth can do, I can’t wait to see what else you got.”
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “I was just getting started.”
“Me too. Does your friend keep condoms in this room?”