The walk to the nearest hotel is excruciatingly long. Jack approaches the reception desk and asks for a room, and though the lady eyes me knowingly, I don’t even blush.
He gets a room card, marches me to the elevator, and virtually tosses me inside. He doesn’t even wait for the doors to close. He’s on me again, kissing me brutally, pinning me against the back wall and making sure I feel what’s concealed behind the fly of his jeans. He rolls us, now his back against the wall, our mouths going at it like starved lions. The small space is drenched in moans, groans, whimpers, and cries of passion.
When the doors open we practically fall out, our mouths still glued as he walks me backward down the corridor, having a quick check for the right room before he fumbles with the card and kicks the door open. He breaks our kiss and pushes me inside. I stumble back, dazed, disoriented…wanting like I’ve never wanted before.
He starts to unfasten his shirt as he prowls toward me, and once he’s worked his way through his buttons he shrugs it off.
And I gulp down my awe as I take in the smooth planes of his torso, the perfection of his body making me giddy. He can’t be real. Is he real? Am I here?
The way he’s looking at me—the hunger, the resolve. I’ve never felt so wanted and, weirdly, needed. It’s a satisfying revelation. But there’s an alien feeling, too, one that I should probably devote a little more time toward analyzing. How much I need him right now. A stranger.
His hands move to the button of his fly as he comes to a stop before me, just a few feet away. The waistband of his boxers is peeking above his jeans, taut material spanning a taut stomach. My eyes fix on his fingers as he lazily reveals more of himself to me, torturing me, his shallow breathing matching my own. Why so slow now? Why is he dragging this out? I flick desperate eyes to his and find him watching me closely. Then his jeans hit the floor. Followed by his boxers.
The muscles in my legs threaten to give up on me as I stare at him before me, stark naked and beyond stunning. This isn’t me. I don’t bend to a man’s will, but this man has had me bending from the second he found me at the bar. I’m unsure whether I loathe the notion, or love it. What I do know, though, is there is nothing I can do about it. Neither do I want to. A night of dirty, raw fucking is currently standing before me, with illicit promises shining from his gray eyes, and I’m going in feet first.
As soon as I find my feet.
Kicking away his shoes, jeans, and boxers, he takes my hands delicately, like he’s sensed I need a moment of gentleness and reassurance.
“Ready, Annie?” he asks softly. “Because I sure as hell am.”
He doesn’t wait for my answer. He must see the certainty in my eyes. Moving into me, pressing me against the window behind me, the side of his coarse face resting against my cheek, he grips the hem of my dress and pulls it up between us. My arms lift with it as my mind searches frantically for some poise, anything to match his calm, measured actions. I have nothing.
He’s taking it slowly now, savoring every moment, every movement, every sound. My dress is gone, but he’s still pressed against me, moving his hands around to my back. I feel the clasp of my bra release and then he steps away, pulling the straps down my arms, his eyes falling down my body.
He swallows.
Hard.
He blinks.
Slowly.
He growls under his breath.
Then he drops my bra to the floor and his eyes to my skimpy black knickers. The sight of his big, naked body before me distracts me from any shyness. The power of his presence distracts me from any restraint I should be working hard to find.
My fingers reach for the sides of my knickers and push them down my thighs, revealing myself in my entirety to him.
And I wait.
And wait.
I wait so long for him to make his move, wondering where my mind has gone. It’s lost, fallen into a pit of recklessness. All I can do is admire what’s before me.
“Ever experienced this before?” he asks quietly. “The chemistry, the need?”
“No.” My answer is easy and it’s the truth.
“Me either.” He steps forward and cages me against the window, picking up on the crazy, passionate kiss he started on the street and continued in the elevator. My mind swims with pleasure.
He’s naked. I’m naked. We’re touching everywhere that two people can touch, his erection wedged against my lower stomach, pulsing in time with my body. He moans around my lips, his hands sliding down to my bum and onto my thighs, squeezing constantly. I lock his wide shoulders in my arms and let him at me.
A swift tug hauls me up to his waist on a whimper, his cock poised and ready to enter me. The glass behind me is becoming slippery, my back sliding across the smooth surface as a result of my dampening skin.
“Open up to me,” he orders, feeling the constriction of my thighs.
Without a moment’s thought I relax, letting him hold me against the window with his body. “Condom,” I breathe into his mouth, managing to locate a shred of sensibility through my hunger.
“I don’t have one.” He continues to kiss me, and my heart sinks. “Jesus, this wasn’t part of my plan for this evening, Annie,” he declares. “You?”
I lap my tongue around his, digging my nails into his shoulders. “I don’t have one. We should stop.”
“Are you on the pill?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t make this right.” I continue to kiss him, speaking into his mouth. “We should stop.”
“I know.” He takes my hands from his shoulders and pushes them up the glass, releasing my mouth briefly to bite my lip before plunging his tongue deep again, exploring far and wide. “We need to stop.”
“We do,” I confirm through my pleasure, letting him thread his fingers with mine above my head, his lips kissing their way across my cheek and into my neck.
“Tell me to stop,” he demands weakly and with zero conviction, sucking and biting at my flesh.
“Oh God!” I breathe, slamming my head against the glass behind me, my thighs tightening around his waist again. “Jack, you need to stop.”
“I will. You want me to?”
“No!”
He swivels his hips and enters me on a ragged shout of satisfaction, his teeth clamped lightly around the flesh of my neck. My whole world explodes into a haze of powerful pleasure as I scream to the ceiling, a long, despairing, satisfied scream. He’s still now, but breathing erratically, his long, thick length fully inside of me. The fullness twists my mind, warmth fills my veins and boils my bloodstream, and the rightness prevents me from fighting him off. His grip on my hands above my head is now solid and my legs are wrapped around him like ivy.
“My heart is hammering,” he confesses, his hips shaking with the strain to keep still. “It’s beating so fucking hard, and it feels so fucking good. Where did you come from, Annie?”
I’d ask him the same question if it wasn’t for my inability to talk. So I push my face into his instead, closing my eyes and relishing the feel of our bodies connected so completely.