1. Valeria #3
“I brought some.” He doesn’t comment on my preparedness as I search the floor for my dress and pull out the two condoms I brought. Maybe he’s counting his lucky stars that one of us was ready for this.
When I stand, he plucks them out of my hand and sets me back on the mattress with a light shove.
I peel off my tights and panties. The thumping of the music outside syncs to my heart’s wild beating as he drops to his hands and knees, and when I feel his breath against my pussy, I tense and fling one foot out to nudge him back.
“Not that.” The last thing I want is a stranger’s mouth between my legs.
“Need to mentally prepare?”
I relax a fraction at his teasing tone. “I’m craving something a little rougher instead.”
He exhales with a note of approval. “Yeah. I can do that.”
It’s all the warning I get before he snatches my ankles and flips me onto my belly. I yelp as he drags me to the end of the bed and arranges me so my ass is sticking up into the air and my legs are tucked underneath me.
Slap.
I barely register the bright red point of pain on my ass cheek before he’s pressed against my entrance, teasing me with his huge cock. All thought flies out of my head.
He slides in slowly, stretching me with just the tip. One of his hands splays across my back. The other holds my hips in place.
Wildly, for a split second, I feel luxuriously cared for and tended to in his hands. I let out breathy little moans as his fingers dig into my thighs. He fills and fills until he’s fully seated inside me.
His wide palm strokes along my lower back.
“You are very pretty.”
Sudden heat flushes into my cheeks, burning the tips of my ears at his unexpected compliment. I swallow hard, tensing again. “It’s too dark to even see me, playboy.”
“I’ve seen you plenty.”
A single snap of his hips fizzles the rebuttal on the tip of my tongue.
That piercing I felt from earlier rubs a perfect spot inside me, like it was made for me.
I moan and fist the bedsheets with one hand.
My other comes down to my clit and circles there, building pressure quickly.
I’m going to make myself come as much as possible before he finishes.
He grabs a fistful of my hair, and it’s just the prick of pain I need to go tumbling over the first edge. He keeps to that perfect pace, each snap of his hips crashing a new wave of pleasure against me and dragging me deeper and deeper into bliss.
When I finally slump boneless against the bed, he empties himself into me with one final, shuddering thrust.
I smile against the bedsheets. Fuck, that was good. As a rule, I don’t use strangers as regular fuck buddies, but I’m tempted to make an exception for this guy.
“You really do fight dirty. You got me close there, pretty girl.”
He’s not done? He flips me onto my back and ruts into me.
When we’re finished, I lie on the bed in a complete daze, blinking heavily at the ceiling and trying not to make a terrible mistake like falling asleep next to this guy. Our legs are tangled together on the sheets. His warm hand rests on my belly.
He rolls onto his side and inhales.
I’m struck with a sudden fear of what he might say, and even more terrifying, what I might say after.
I spin away from him, landing lightly on the carpet.
“That was really fantastic,” I tell him as I search for my clothes in the dark.
I pull on my underwear and dress and don’t even bother with my tights, rolling them into a ball and stuffing them in my pocket.
“You were pretty fantastic yourself,” he says. He doesn’t shift from his place on the bed.
“I’m a woman of many talents.”
“You stay a little longer, and I can show you a few more of my own.”
I hesitate, then tug on my socks and boots. The thought is incredibly tempting, but I’ve already stayed too long. I need to get home before day breaks.
The mattress groans under my hand as I lean over to give him one last kiss.
His full mouth meets mine, and his fingers thread into my hair. When I start to pull away, he holds me against him for a moment longer, nipping and sucking at my bottom lip until he drags a moan out of me.
Then he lets me go, and I’m unmoored in the empty room without his body.
I want to crawl back into bed with him.
Instead, I finger-comb my hair into some semblance of normalcy. Dress, underwear, tights, socks, shoes, what else am I missing?
His scarf.
It’s best I leave it.
I cup the doorknob, racking my brain for an excuse to stay another moment longer.
“Thank you. You were perfect. Thanks.” The word perfect kind of falls out of me, but I’ve already thanked him twice like he’s a server at a fine-dining restaurant, so I shut my mouth and open the door to a barrage of fresh sound.
As I step into the party, I steal one last glance at him.
He’s completely naked, resting against the headboard with the sheets pooled around his lap.
I move to shut the door—because it would be rude to let someone else see him, not because I have a strange, protective urge to hide him from sight—and as I do, his intense, predatory gaze snares me.
The afterimage of his calculating look sears into my brain as I walk away.