Beautiful Stranger
Page 7
“Someone could walk down here,” he reminded me, giving me one last out, even as he lowered my panties enough for me to step out of them.
I didn’t care. Not even a little. And maybe even a tiny part of me wanted someone to wander up here, to see this perfect man touching me like this. I could hardly think of anything other than where his hands were, how my skirt was over my hips now, how he pressed so hard and insistent against my stomach.
“Don’t care.”
“You’re drunk. Too drunk for this? I want you to remember it if I f**k you.”
“So make it memorable.”
He lifted my leg, spreading me, exposing my bare skin to the cool air-conditioning blowing from just above us, and hooked my knee around his hip, making me grateful for my four-inch heels. Reaching between us, I unbuttoned his jeans, pushed his boxers down just enough in front to free him, and wrapped my hand around his erection, rubbing it across my wetness.
“Fuck, Petal. Let me get this on.”
His pants were open but slung over his hips. From the back we could even appear to be dancing, maybe just kissing. But he pulsed in my palm, and the reality of the situation made me wild. He was going to take me, right here, overlooking the crowd below. In that crowd were people who knew me as Good Sara, Responsible Sara, Andy’s Sara.
New home, new job, new life. New Sara.
My stranger was heavy and so long in my hand. I wanted him and was also a little terrified that he might impale me. I wasn’t sure I’d ever held a man who got this hard.
“You’re big,” I blurted.
He smiled, a wolf truly about to devour me, and quickly tore the condom package with his teeth. “That is the best thing you can say to a man. You could even tell me you’re not sure I’ll fit.”
I swept the tip across my opening, and trembled from it. He was so warm: soft skin, hard beneath.
“Fuck. I’m going to come all over your fist if you don’t stop that.” His hands shook a little with urgency as he pulled himself from my grip to roll on the condom.
“Do you do this a lot?” I asked.
He was right there, poised against me, his smile aimed at my face. “Do what? Sex with a beautiful woman who won’t tell me her name and prefers me to f**k her in a public hallway rather than in a proper place like a bed, or a limo?” He started to push in, achingly slow. The light burned in his eyes, and—holy crap—I didn’t think sex with strangers was supposed to be intimate like this. He watched every reaction cross my face. “No, Petal. I must admit I’ve never done this.”
His voice was tight, and then his words fell away because he was deep inside me, here in this chaotic club with living, breathing lights and music pulsing all around us, where people walked past unaware only fifteen feet away. And yet, my entire world reduced to the place where he filled me, where he rubbed firmly against my clit with every stroke, where the warm skin of his hips pressed to my thighs.
There wasn’t any more talking, only small thrusts that grew faster, and harder. The space between us filled instead with quiet sounds of praise and urging. His teeth pressed into my neck and I gripped his shoulders for fear I might fall over the edge or even somewhere else, not onto a dance floor but into a world where I couldn’t get enough of being so exposed, having my pleasure so visible to anyone watching—especially this man.
“Christ, you’re gorgeous.” He leaned back, looking down, and sped up a little. “I can’t stop looking at your perfect skin and—fuck—where I’m moving in you.”
Light was clearly on his side because to me he was backlit, just the silhouette of my stranger. I could see nothing when I looked down but dark shadows and the suggestion of movement: him into me, and out again. Slick and hard, pressing against me with every pass. And, as if to emphasize that I didn’t really need to see anyway, the lights dimmed almost to black as a lazy, oscillating beat filled the club.
“I took video of you dancing,” he whispered.
It was a few, long moments before his words registered above the feeling of him moving in me. “Wh—what?”
“I don’t know why. I won’t show it round. I just . . .” He watched my face, slowing down enough presumably so I could think. “You were so f**king possessed. I wanted to remember. Bloody hell, I feel like I’m confessing my sins.”
I swallowed, and he bent closer, kissing me before I asked, “Is it weird that I like that you did that?”
He laughed into my mouth, moving in and out of me again with slow, deliberate strokes. “Just enjoy it, right? I like to watch you. You were performing for me. There isn’t anything wrong with it.”
I didn’t care. Not even a little. And maybe even a tiny part of me wanted someone to wander up here, to see this perfect man touching me like this. I could hardly think of anything other than where his hands were, how my skirt was over my hips now, how he pressed so hard and insistent against my stomach.
“Don’t care.”
“You’re drunk. Too drunk for this? I want you to remember it if I f**k you.”
“So make it memorable.”
He lifted my leg, spreading me, exposing my bare skin to the cool air-conditioning blowing from just above us, and hooked my knee around his hip, making me grateful for my four-inch heels. Reaching between us, I unbuttoned his jeans, pushed his boxers down just enough in front to free him, and wrapped my hand around his erection, rubbing it across my wetness.
“Fuck, Petal. Let me get this on.”
His pants were open but slung over his hips. From the back we could even appear to be dancing, maybe just kissing. But he pulsed in my palm, and the reality of the situation made me wild. He was going to take me, right here, overlooking the crowd below. In that crowd were people who knew me as Good Sara, Responsible Sara, Andy’s Sara.
New home, new job, new life. New Sara.
My stranger was heavy and so long in my hand. I wanted him and was also a little terrified that he might impale me. I wasn’t sure I’d ever held a man who got this hard.
“You’re big,” I blurted.
He smiled, a wolf truly about to devour me, and quickly tore the condom package with his teeth. “That is the best thing you can say to a man. You could even tell me you’re not sure I’ll fit.”
I swept the tip across my opening, and trembled from it. He was so warm: soft skin, hard beneath.
“Fuck. I’m going to come all over your fist if you don’t stop that.” His hands shook a little with urgency as he pulled himself from my grip to roll on the condom.
“Do you do this a lot?” I asked.
He was right there, poised against me, his smile aimed at my face. “Do what? Sex with a beautiful woman who won’t tell me her name and prefers me to f**k her in a public hallway rather than in a proper place like a bed, or a limo?” He started to push in, achingly slow. The light burned in his eyes, and—holy crap—I didn’t think sex with strangers was supposed to be intimate like this. He watched every reaction cross my face. “No, Petal. I must admit I’ve never done this.”
His voice was tight, and then his words fell away because he was deep inside me, here in this chaotic club with living, breathing lights and music pulsing all around us, where people walked past unaware only fifteen feet away. And yet, my entire world reduced to the place where he filled me, where he rubbed firmly against my clit with every stroke, where the warm skin of his hips pressed to my thighs.
There wasn’t any more talking, only small thrusts that grew faster, and harder. The space between us filled instead with quiet sounds of praise and urging. His teeth pressed into my neck and I gripped his shoulders for fear I might fall over the edge or even somewhere else, not onto a dance floor but into a world where I couldn’t get enough of being so exposed, having my pleasure so visible to anyone watching—especially this man.
“Christ, you’re gorgeous.” He leaned back, looking down, and sped up a little. “I can’t stop looking at your perfect skin and—fuck—where I’m moving in you.”
Light was clearly on his side because to me he was backlit, just the silhouette of my stranger. I could see nothing when I looked down but dark shadows and the suggestion of movement: him into me, and out again. Slick and hard, pressing against me with every pass. And, as if to emphasize that I didn’t really need to see anyway, the lights dimmed almost to black as a lazy, oscillating beat filled the club.
“I took video of you dancing,” he whispered.
It was a few, long moments before his words registered above the feeling of him moving in me. “Wh—what?”
“I don’t know why. I won’t show it round. I just . . .” He watched my face, slowing down enough presumably so I could think. “You were so f**king possessed. I wanted to remember. Bloody hell, I feel like I’m confessing my sins.”
I swallowed, and he bent closer, kissing me before I asked, “Is it weird that I like that you did that?”
He laughed into my mouth, moving in and out of me again with slow, deliberate strokes. “Just enjoy it, right? I like to watch you. You were performing for me. There isn’t anything wrong with it.”
