Kiss a Stranger
Page 8
Keeping his gaze on my body, he took his clothes off at a leisurely pace. He was lean, tall, and strong. His broad shoulders were thick, his chest was wide, and his stomach was curved beautifully with pronounced abs.
He wasn’t overly muscular, but right in the middle between thick and lean. A perfect combination that made him appear all the more ripped. My eyes lapped him up and down, until I was wetting my lips and staring heatedly below his V-line.
He was long. Thick. Hard.
Clothed and naked, Ben Costigan was the sexiest man I’d ever seen.
“On the bed,” he ordered. “Rest on your back.”
There was a kind of buzz at being ordered what to do. It wasn’t some drunk make-out session followed by a rushed session of sex. Ben was direct and demanding.
I lay down on the bed and waited tentatively for his next move. He approached the bed and loomed over me. His eyes skimmed my body from head to toe, and my breathing slowed when his hand wrapped around his length. He pumped himself once, twice, before he asked in a low voice, “How long has it been since you’ve been with a man, beauty?”
My eyes were glued to his slow movements when I weakly replied, “A long time.”
“How long?” he pressed tightly. “Be specific.”
“Nine months.”
I looked up at his face just as he nodded. “Good.”
The bed shifted as he climbed on. The anticipation was killing me. His movements were slow and unrushed. He looked at every part of me, and it was difficult not to feel self-conscious. My body had changed dramatically in nine months. My muscle tone had gone. The curves of my hips had shrunken. And my breasts…well, each could easily fit into the palm of his hand.
“Are you on birth control?” he asked, positioning himself on his knees.
I nodded. I’d been on birth control since I was fifteen.
“Good. Now spread your legs.”
I did as he asked, keeping my vision fixed on him. I spread my legs apart, feeling the cold air drift between them. He took my legs with each hand and skimmed up them. Once he reached my inner thighs, he spread them further apart.
“Like that,” he whispered.
I felt vulnerable and completely open to him. He stared between my legs with parted lips and a hand still wrapped around himself. Then he glanced back up at me, and a wolfish smirk formed his lips as he said, “Show me how you pleasure yourself.”
Startled by his request, I blinked helplessly at him. For a few seconds there was a hesitant silence. Sure I’d been with many men, but I wasn’t technically experienced. They’d been drunk moments that lasted minutes. And I certainly never pleasured myself in front of someone before.
Ben took my limp hand and rested it between my legs. “I want to see how you do it. Show me how you fuck yourself.”
While we’d long adjusted to the darkness, I was suddenly very glad he couldn’t see the blush heating my cheeks. Trembling, I stroked myself. Too nervous, I didn’t feel the usual sparks when I was turned on. It sort of felt numb as I moved my fingers in random directions. I couldn’t relax while being closely observed like this.
He seemed to sense this too and frowned. “Do you like what you see, Claire?”
I nodded.
“Speak.”
“Yes.”
“Stare at my body. Hell, look at my damn cock and see how hard I am for you. This is what you do to me. You leave me completely pining to be inside of you. Pining to fuck you silly. I’m hard as a rock.” He took my hand and wrapped it around his length and I sucked in a breath. Fuck, this was hot. “See? Now relax and enjoy yourself. Because it’s just you and me, beauty. This is between us, and it’s going to feel good when you’ve let go. So, let go.”
He moved my hand back between my legs. I relaxed like he told me to and feasted my eyes on his body. His length was what got to me the most. He was hard. For me. And I felt it. He liked what he was seeing, and he’d like it even more if I touched myself.
I rubbed myself again, slowly running circles along my clit. A thunderbolt of pleasure ran up my body and I gasped at the feeling. He watched me closely, stroking his erection as I continued to pleasure myself.
I shut my eyes as the tingles began to multiply. It felt naughty being observed. I moved faster, arching my back. I felt the mattress shift, and his warmth drew nearer. I moaned lightly, already lost in my movements. I wanted to get there and I wanted him to see and enjoy it.
“Stop,” he suddenly told me.
I almost whimpered at the loss of pleasure, but I obeyed. I stopped rubbing myself and waited.
“Open your eyes.”
I opened them and looked into his.
“Put a finger inside you,” he instructed, “and look at me while you do it.”
Holy hell.
My body felt like a ball of fire. Any second now I’d disintegrate into a cloud of smoke. But I was too turned on to stop. I stared at him as I slowly edged my finger into my entrance. I resisted moaning at the pulsing feeling of pleasure shooting up. His eyes stared hard at me, but his chest moved faster, a sign that he was not as composed as he let on.
“That’s it,” he muttered. “All the way in.”
Shaking, I slid my finger inside.
“Good. Now take it out.”
The second I withdrew my finger, he grabbed my wrist lightly and brought my hand up to his face. My breathing thinned as he took my finger all the way into his mouth and slowly sucked it from end to tip. Oh, my God, if I wasn’t drenched in lust before, this had done it.
He set my hand back down to my side and brought his body over mine. I knotted my fingers into his hair as he kissed me hard. He stroked his tongue against mine, urgently spreading my legs wide to accommodate himself between them. I lifted my hips and felt his hard length near my entrance, brushing against my core. I brought my hands down to his lower back and tried to pull him down to me.
I was so turned on, I couldn’t see straight. I didn’t care how desperate I looked either. I just wanted him. I wanted that need to be quenched. I wanted to feel the warmth of him like it was all that mattered in my world.
“I’m not a gentle man,” he suddenly whispered into my ear, “but I’m going to be gentle this first time. Okay?”
I nodded. I could feel the impact of those words, insinuating to me there was more to come. It excited me. He wanted me, and not in the way most others have.
He looked down between us as he rubbed the head of his cock against me, coating himself with my wetness. His breathing was hard and strained as he pumped himself outside of me a few times before settling back to my entrance. He leaned down and, with a kiss as soft as satin, he finally pushed into me. I stifled a moan and went to close my eyes when his hand gripped my chin suddenly.
“No,” he breathed against me. “Look at me.”
I opened my eyes and looked at him. He looked just as drunk with pleasure as me, but he kept his eyes on mine as he continued his slow trek within me. It’d been so long, and the feeling of fullness had my eyes rolling to the back of my head.
“Look at me,” he repeated softly.
When I did, my chest squeezed and a strange feeling soared through me. It was hard looking at him. It felt too… personal. I wanted to close my eyes and just drown myself in the feeling, but he kept his hand cupped at my chin and my face directed at him. He moved in and out slowly, as if savouring every inch, and when I made to close my eyes again, he paused and waited for me to open them.
So I kept them directed at him, even though it was hard. While I felt the pleasure of his thrusts, I was too distracted by the personal invasion of his gaze. I felt stripped bare and he could see all of me.
He brushed his tongue against mine again before his lips roamed my face. My breathing stopped entirely when his mouth made contact with my scars. He kissed every individual one delicately, like that part of my face deserved to be cherished. Pain shot through my heart, and I was terrified he could see it in my eyes.
This was too much. I wanted him to stop. I couldn’t bear to be touched there.
But I only found myself gripping him tighter and fighting back the tears that surfaced behind my eyes as he continued to move into me. His breaths turned to pants as his thrusts quickened. He gripped my ass above the mattress and sent sharper, harder thrusts into me. He groaned at this, pulling my lower body a few inches up so it was elevated. His thrusts went deeper this way and I shook suddenly at the pleasure that I was edging toward.
How did he get me there so fast?
I moaned loudly as I began to approach the crest.
“That’s it, lovely,” he growled. “You feel incredible. The way you’re hugging my cock right now, it’s killing me.”
I dug my nails into his skin and frantically kissed him. It was more breath than kiss, though.
“That’s it,” he repeated. “Get yourself there.”
I trembled and cried out. Oh, the pleasure. On and on it went. On and on he went. It built and built and…
Oh, my God. Oh, my God. “Oh, my God.”
The orgasm that rocked my body was sudden and bittersweet. It stretched on, a buzz that seemed to flow as fast as my bloodstream. I shook and rode it out as Ben gripped me tight and followed with his own release. Eyes still locked with mine, he grunted against my mouth. I felt his cock jerk inside of me, and his body quaked as he came.
For a split second his walls went down, and I saw a vulnerability in him. I felt his melancholy before he panted and buried his face into my neck, as though he didn’t want me to see.
The minutes that followed were silent as a grave. I felt the pounding of both our hearts against each other’s pressed chests, and I wrapped my arms around him. I held him close, and stared up into the darkness. I found myself asking the same question over and over again.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
Chapter Seven
I’m very picky
He moved off of me. For a split second I expected him to get out of bed and start to get ready to leave. That had been my reality when I’d started bedding men: screwing someone and getting out of there minutes after it ended. Like a quota that had been filled, you were of no more use.
I watched Ben closely as he ran a hand through his hair and rested on his back. He was still catching his breath when his arm reached out and found me. To my astonishment, he pulled me to him, until I had my head over his chest and my front body against his side. We were sweaty and we smelled of sex, but beneath all that I still caught the whiff of his unique scent.
I relaxed after a tense few moments. He absently ran his fingers up and down my spine, and I couldn’t help but feel like one of the many heroines I read about in my books. The way they felt safe and warm in the hero’s arms, I understood that feeling now. Ben was the first guy that bothered to bring me close after he got what he wanted. But unlike the other guys that came and went, he’d looked after my needs too.
I felt cherished.
“Why’d you ask me how long it’d been since I’d been with someone?” I wondered out loud, breaking the silence.
His fingers paused at my lower back. “Because I didn’t want to be another number to you,” he answered bluntly.
“You? A number?” I nearly laughed.
“Why is that so funny?”
“Because you can be with anyone. If anything, I’m the number.”
He chuckled dryly. “Then you’re a very low number because I don’t have sex with just anybody, little lady. I’m very picky.”
I smiled discreetly. What had I done right to be chosen? I hated having all these questions in my head. I was not the type of girl that liked to stew on shit or misconstrue it. So I simply asked him, “Why did you decide on me right now? I don’t understand.”
He looked down at me with knitted brows. “And I don’t understand why you find that so shocking.”
I shrugged, not meeting his eye. “Well, you just showed up out of nowhere and you tell me you want me… and I don’t get it.”
“I’m very attracted to you.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and slam my head against the wall. How many ways did I have to ask him why he’d suddenly appeared in my life? He didn’t strike me as the type that wanted to just bed me and move on. No, he wanted me. And I needed to know why!
“Have I taken advantage of you?” he asked.
“No.”
“I know I should have slowed down, but I couldn’t help myself.”
“Neither could I.” I inhaled sharply and closed my eyes. God, this warmth was addictive. “I’ve never been like this with someone before.”
“Like what?”
“Like this.”
“Never?”
I shook my head slightly and continued to relax. I listened to his heartbeats, and it soothed me. Nine months of rainy days and the sun finally came out. Whether this was just a fleeting moment of happiness or not was irrelevant. The point was I could feel again, and that gave me hope.
He resumed stroking me, and, like a child, I wrapped my arm around him and clung to him like he was my lifeline. It felt good, yet my heart was acting funny. While it felt like it was soaring, it also squeezed as though it’d been wound up tight by a thread. That thread was tugging, and with every tug it felt painful.
Is this what likeness was? I’d never truly experienced it before. I’d been attracted to men, sure, but never gotten close enough emotionally to truly like them.
And to think, I used to hate the heroines in my books for turning into spineless goo around a man. If this was just a tenth of what they felt, then I was in deep shit.
Because at this rate, I was becoming one of them.
*****
It wasn’t dreaming that brought me back to that horrid event every morning. It was the feeling of waking up. The one thing that stayed with me – imprinted into my soul like a tattoo – was the fear I felt when I woke up.
He wasn’t overly muscular, but right in the middle between thick and lean. A perfect combination that made him appear all the more ripped. My eyes lapped him up and down, until I was wetting my lips and staring heatedly below his V-line.
He was long. Thick. Hard.
Clothed and naked, Ben Costigan was the sexiest man I’d ever seen.
“On the bed,” he ordered. “Rest on your back.”
There was a kind of buzz at being ordered what to do. It wasn’t some drunk make-out session followed by a rushed session of sex. Ben was direct and demanding.
I lay down on the bed and waited tentatively for his next move. He approached the bed and loomed over me. His eyes skimmed my body from head to toe, and my breathing slowed when his hand wrapped around his length. He pumped himself once, twice, before he asked in a low voice, “How long has it been since you’ve been with a man, beauty?”
My eyes were glued to his slow movements when I weakly replied, “A long time.”
“How long?” he pressed tightly. “Be specific.”
“Nine months.”
I looked up at his face just as he nodded. “Good.”
The bed shifted as he climbed on. The anticipation was killing me. His movements were slow and unrushed. He looked at every part of me, and it was difficult not to feel self-conscious. My body had changed dramatically in nine months. My muscle tone had gone. The curves of my hips had shrunken. And my breasts…well, each could easily fit into the palm of his hand.
“Are you on birth control?” he asked, positioning himself on his knees.
I nodded. I’d been on birth control since I was fifteen.
“Good. Now spread your legs.”
I did as he asked, keeping my vision fixed on him. I spread my legs apart, feeling the cold air drift between them. He took my legs with each hand and skimmed up them. Once he reached my inner thighs, he spread them further apart.
“Like that,” he whispered.
I felt vulnerable and completely open to him. He stared between my legs with parted lips and a hand still wrapped around himself. Then he glanced back up at me, and a wolfish smirk formed his lips as he said, “Show me how you pleasure yourself.”
Startled by his request, I blinked helplessly at him. For a few seconds there was a hesitant silence. Sure I’d been with many men, but I wasn’t technically experienced. They’d been drunk moments that lasted minutes. And I certainly never pleasured myself in front of someone before.
Ben took my limp hand and rested it between my legs. “I want to see how you do it. Show me how you fuck yourself.”
While we’d long adjusted to the darkness, I was suddenly very glad he couldn’t see the blush heating my cheeks. Trembling, I stroked myself. Too nervous, I didn’t feel the usual sparks when I was turned on. It sort of felt numb as I moved my fingers in random directions. I couldn’t relax while being closely observed like this.
He seemed to sense this too and frowned. “Do you like what you see, Claire?”
I nodded.
“Speak.”
“Yes.”
“Stare at my body. Hell, look at my damn cock and see how hard I am for you. This is what you do to me. You leave me completely pining to be inside of you. Pining to fuck you silly. I’m hard as a rock.” He took my hand and wrapped it around his length and I sucked in a breath. Fuck, this was hot. “See? Now relax and enjoy yourself. Because it’s just you and me, beauty. This is between us, and it’s going to feel good when you’ve let go. So, let go.”
He moved my hand back between my legs. I relaxed like he told me to and feasted my eyes on his body. His length was what got to me the most. He was hard. For me. And I felt it. He liked what he was seeing, and he’d like it even more if I touched myself.
I rubbed myself again, slowly running circles along my clit. A thunderbolt of pleasure ran up my body and I gasped at the feeling. He watched me closely, stroking his erection as I continued to pleasure myself.
I shut my eyes as the tingles began to multiply. It felt naughty being observed. I moved faster, arching my back. I felt the mattress shift, and his warmth drew nearer. I moaned lightly, already lost in my movements. I wanted to get there and I wanted him to see and enjoy it.
“Stop,” he suddenly told me.
I almost whimpered at the loss of pleasure, but I obeyed. I stopped rubbing myself and waited.
“Open your eyes.”
I opened them and looked into his.
“Put a finger inside you,” he instructed, “and look at me while you do it.”
Holy hell.
My body felt like a ball of fire. Any second now I’d disintegrate into a cloud of smoke. But I was too turned on to stop. I stared at him as I slowly edged my finger into my entrance. I resisted moaning at the pulsing feeling of pleasure shooting up. His eyes stared hard at me, but his chest moved faster, a sign that he was not as composed as he let on.
“That’s it,” he muttered. “All the way in.”
Shaking, I slid my finger inside.
“Good. Now take it out.”
The second I withdrew my finger, he grabbed my wrist lightly and brought my hand up to his face. My breathing thinned as he took my finger all the way into his mouth and slowly sucked it from end to tip. Oh, my God, if I wasn’t drenched in lust before, this had done it.
He set my hand back down to my side and brought his body over mine. I knotted my fingers into his hair as he kissed me hard. He stroked his tongue against mine, urgently spreading my legs wide to accommodate himself between them. I lifted my hips and felt his hard length near my entrance, brushing against my core. I brought my hands down to his lower back and tried to pull him down to me.
I was so turned on, I couldn’t see straight. I didn’t care how desperate I looked either. I just wanted him. I wanted that need to be quenched. I wanted to feel the warmth of him like it was all that mattered in my world.
“I’m not a gentle man,” he suddenly whispered into my ear, “but I’m going to be gentle this first time. Okay?”
I nodded. I could feel the impact of those words, insinuating to me there was more to come. It excited me. He wanted me, and not in the way most others have.
He looked down between us as he rubbed the head of his cock against me, coating himself with my wetness. His breathing was hard and strained as he pumped himself outside of me a few times before settling back to my entrance. He leaned down and, with a kiss as soft as satin, he finally pushed into me. I stifled a moan and went to close my eyes when his hand gripped my chin suddenly.
“No,” he breathed against me. “Look at me.”
I opened my eyes and looked at him. He looked just as drunk with pleasure as me, but he kept his eyes on mine as he continued his slow trek within me. It’d been so long, and the feeling of fullness had my eyes rolling to the back of my head.
“Look at me,” he repeated softly.
When I did, my chest squeezed and a strange feeling soared through me. It was hard looking at him. It felt too… personal. I wanted to close my eyes and just drown myself in the feeling, but he kept his hand cupped at my chin and my face directed at him. He moved in and out slowly, as if savouring every inch, and when I made to close my eyes again, he paused and waited for me to open them.
So I kept them directed at him, even though it was hard. While I felt the pleasure of his thrusts, I was too distracted by the personal invasion of his gaze. I felt stripped bare and he could see all of me.
He brushed his tongue against mine again before his lips roamed my face. My breathing stopped entirely when his mouth made contact with my scars. He kissed every individual one delicately, like that part of my face deserved to be cherished. Pain shot through my heart, and I was terrified he could see it in my eyes.
This was too much. I wanted him to stop. I couldn’t bear to be touched there.
But I only found myself gripping him tighter and fighting back the tears that surfaced behind my eyes as he continued to move into me. His breaths turned to pants as his thrusts quickened. He gripped my ass above the mattress and sent sharper, harder thrusts into me. He groaned at this, pulling my lower body a few inches up so it was elevated. His thrusts went deeper this way and I shook suddenly at the pleasure that I was edging toward.
How did he get me there so fast?
I moaned loudly as I began to approach the crest.
“That’s it, lovely,” he growled. “You feel incredible. The way you’re hugging my cock right now, it’s killing me.”
I dug my nails into his skin and frantically kissed him. It was more breath than kiss, though.
“That’s it,” he repeated. “Get yourself there.”
I trembled and cried out. Oh, the pleasure. On and on it went. On and on he went. It built and built and…
Oh, my God. Oh, my God. “Oh, my God.”
The orgasm that rocked my body was sudden and bittersweet. It stretched on, a buzz that seemed to flow as fast as my bloodstream. I shook and rode it out as Ben gripped me tight and followed with his own release. Eyes still locked with mine, he grunted against my mouth. I felt his cock jerk inside of me, and his body quaked as he came.
For a split second his walls went down, and I saw a vulnerability in him. I felt his melancholy before he panted and buried his face into my neck, as though he didn’t want me to see.
The minutes that followed were silent as a grave. I felt the pounding of both our hearts against each other’s pressed chests, and I wrapped my arms around him. I held him close, and stared up into the darkness. I found myself asking the same question over and over again.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
Chapter Seven
I’m very picky
He moved off of me. For a split second I expected him to get out of bed and start to get ready to leave. That had been my reality when I’d started bedding men: screwing someone and getting out of there minutes after it ended. Like a quota that had been filled, you were of no more use.
I watched Ben closely as he ran a hand through his hair and rested on his back. He was still catching his breath when his arm reached out and found me. To my astonishment, he pulled me to him, until I had my head over his chest and my front body against his side. We were sweaty and we smelled of sex, but beneath all that I still caught the whiff of his unique scent.
I relaxed after a tense few moments. He absently ran his fingers up and down my spine, and I couldn’t help but feel like one of the many heroines I read about in my books. The way they felt safe and warm in the hero’s arms, I understood that feeling now. Ben was the first guy that bothered to bring me close after he got what he wanted. But unlike the other guys that came and went, he’d looked after my needs too.
I felt cherished.
“Why’d you ask me how long it’d been since I’d been with someone?” I wondered out loud, breaking the silence.
His fingers paused at my lower back. “Because I didn’t want to be another number to you,” he answered bluntly.
“You? A number?” I nearly laughed.
“Why is that so funny?”
“Because you can be with anyone. If anything, I’m the number.”
He chuckled dryly. “Then you’re a very low number because I don’t have sex with just anybody, little lady. I’m very picky.”
I smiled discreetly. What had I done right to be chosen? I hated having all these questions in my head. I was not the type of girl that liked to stew on shit or misconstrue it. So I simply asked him, “Why did you decide on me right now? I don’t understand.”
He looked down at me with knitted brows. “And I don’t understand why you find that so shocking.”
I shrugged, not meeting his eye. “Well, you just showed up out of nowhere and you tell me you want me… and I don’t get it.”
“I’m very attracted to you.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and slam my head against the wall. How many ways did I have to ask him why he’d suddenly appeared in my life? He didn’t strike me as the type that wanted to just bed me and move on. No, he wanted me. And I needed to know why!
“Have I taken advantage of you?” he asked.
“No.”
“I know I should have slowed down, but I couldn’t help myself.”
“Neither could I.” I inhaled sharply and closed my eyes. God, this warmth was addictive. “I’ve never been like this with someone before.”
“Like what?”
“Like this.”
“Never?”
I shook my head slightly and continued to relax. I listened to his heartbeats, and it soothed me. Nine months of rainy days and the sun finally came out. Whether this was just a fleeting moment of happiness or not was irrelevant. The point was I could feel again, and that gave me hope.
He resumed stroking me, and, like a child, I wrapped my arm around him and clung to him like he was my lifeline. It felt good, yet my heart was acting funny. While it felt like it was soaring, it also squeezed as though it’d been wound up tight by a thread. That thread was tugging, and with every tug it felt painful.
Is this what likeness was? I’d never truly experienced it before. I’d been attracted to men, sure, but never gotten close enough emotionally to truly like them.
And to think, I used to hate the heroines in my books for turning into spineless goo around a man. If this was just a tenth of what they felt, then I was in deep shit.
Because at this rate, I was becoming one of them.
*****
It wasn’t dreaming that brought me back to that horrid event every morning. It was the feeling of waking up. The one thing that stayed with me – imprinted into my soul like a tattoo – was the fear I felt when I woke up.
