Hot and hungry.
Starving really. Both of us desperate to consume the other and the tug of war our mouths were playing wouldn’t suffice. It had to be everything—all or nothing, and even then I wasn’t sure I’d get my fill of the stranger loving on my body.
But we weren’t really strangers were we? Not that it mattered much, asking him those few questions and offering some facts about myself was just a ploy to ease my conscience. I knew we’d end up like this; I knew before he told me his favorite color or his preference in candy.
From the first smirk he threw my way, I knew I would go home with him.
Which says a lot because I’ve basically been celibate the last few months—I know, I know, my poor vagina. I don’t know why I chose him to break my dry spell. He was everything I wasn’t used to and everything I craved all at the same time. He was the type of guy that came around once in your lifetime. The guy who shakes things up and makes you wonder if the suit and tie guy is really what you’re after. He’s the guy who entices the bad girl buried beneath the class, the guy that makes that girl want to come out and play.
He tastes like cinnamon and the faintest hint of whiskey—he tastes like everything I didn’t realize I was missing in a man. Planting one boot between my feet, he nestles his hard body between my legs as he walks me backward into my apartment. He kicks the door closed behind him and spins us around so that my back is flush with the door.
Lifting one of my legs, he brings it against his side as his fingers travel up my skin, digging into my thigh. I frantically run my hands over his body, kissing him as if he’s my salvation, which he kind of is because I’m not sure I’ll survive without having him buried inside me. He tears his lips away from mine, forcing me to blink and stare at him.
Please don’t change your mind.
His lips threaten to curve, his eyes playfully assessing every feature of my face as I reach for the button on his jeans. My palm glides over his erection as I continue to stare at him through the fringe of my lashes. Suddenly his gaze turns feral, his brown eyes darken so his irises match his pupils and I watch him lick his lips hungrily, pushing the hair away from my face. The tip of his nose travels down the length of mine and his lips touch mine again, forcefully sucking on my lower lip. His hands snake around, cupping my ass and lifts me against the door. My skirt continues to rip, becoming more of a nuisance. I remove my hands from around Stryker’s neck and drop them to the waistband of the skirt when Stryker sets me on my feet.
“Turn around,” he orders breathlessly as he reaches behind him. I huff, kicking off my heels and brace my palms flat against the door. Instantly, I feel one large hand glide across my ass and for a second I close my eyes expecting a playful smack that never comes.
“Hold still,” he grunts, rustling around behind me. I glance over my shoulder and find him on his knees with the knife he split the seam of my skirt with in his hand.
“What’re you doing?” I breathe.
“Cutting this fucking thing off you,” he growls, working the edge of the blade up the slit in my skirt.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to just pull the zipper?” I question, trying to peer over my shoulder as he continues to cut through the stitching.
He looks up at me, pocketing the knife into his back pocket before grabbing the ends of the skirt and pulling them apart, tearing what’s left of my skirt.
“Easy but not as hot,” he points out, chucking my skirt to the side and lifting his hands to my ass. “Been taunting me with this ass all night,” he seethes, cocking his head to the side.
My breath hitches as I continue to stare over my shoulder at him, wondering what his next move will be and when he will finally put me out of my misery.
“Later,” he decides. Grabbing me by the hips he spins me around and hoists me back up into his arms. He wraps my legs around his waist, pressing the hard denim covered length of him against my throbbing pussy. I moan against his mouth as he removes one hand from my ass and slides it down, finding the drenched scrap of lace covering the part of me that aches most for him. Rocking back and forth, he presses the heel of his hand against me, and I swear on everything holy I almost come.
“Stryker,” I plead, knowing I’m hypersensitive and this will probably be the most embarrassing sexual encounter of my life.
“Shh. The next time you say my name I want you coming,” he demands in a gravely tone, slipping a finger beneath the lace and between my lips. “Christ,” he growls, running his finger up and down before pressing his thumb against my clit and inserting two fingers inside of me. “Your pussy is so fucking wet,” he mutters, giving me the filthy words he promised. I want to remind him of his no speaking rule but I want the dirty talk. I fucking want it as much as I want him to sink between my legs and never stop fucking me. His teeth pull on one strap of my camisole, sliding it off my shoulder before repeating the move on the other strap and freeing my breasts.
“Gonna bury my cock inside that sweet cunt,” he hisses, his voice just as rough and sinful as his mouth sucking my nipple.
I pant, slamming the back of my head against the door as I arch my hips against his hand. Sliding my hands down his back, I drag the waistband of his jeans down his hips.
He withdraws his fingers and in one swift move he tears my panties from my body. I hear his jeans drop with a thud to the floor before he brings both of his hands back to my ass cheeks and guides my pussy over his cock, never entering me just brushing the thick length between my lips. I bite down on his shoulder to keep the slew of words, no the pleas, from escaping my mouth.
“Want your eyes on me,” he rasps against my ear. “I want to look into those pretty fucking eyes that have me turned inside out since I first saw them. I want to look into them as I fuck the shit out of you,” he continues, taking my earlobe between his teeth. “Give me your eyes and I’ll give you what you want, pretty girl.”
A noise falls from my lips, a whimper, a cry—some desperate sound leaves me as I wrap my hand around his cock and he pulls his head back a fraction.
I give him what he wants.
I give him my eyes.
And take his.
Without so much as a blink, I lock my ankles around him and pull him closer so that every breath he releases I swallow. He hesitates for a split second before gripping my hands and pinning them over my head, lining the head of his cock with my pussy. His mouth covers mine, swallowing the moan that vibrates through me as he slams his full length in one deep thrust, nearly killing us both. Our eyes still locked, he stills, his mouth parts and leaves mine for a moment before he lets out a stream of curses. I fight not to throw my head back in pleasure, fight to keep my eyes open as he slides out—inch by excruciating inch before pushing back inside of me, a little less forceful this time, stretching me as he fills me again.
“So fucking tight,” he grunts.
I have no response—none whatsoever. I’m in my own fog, one that intensifies with every thrust and I try to keep my orgasm at bay, but he moves and his pelvic bone provides friction against my clit sending me over the edge.
I turn my head from side to side, hoping to stop myself from falling and then he cups my chin and forces my eyes back to his.
“Eyes on me when you come,” he says through gritted teeth. I angrily bang my head against the door as my clit tingles and the rest of my body thrashes when my pussy clamps around him and my climax reverberates through me.
“Fuck,” he grits as his pace quickens, his hips jerk and he pulls out of me. One hand pins both of mine over my head as the other wraps around his cock and his release sprays across my stomach. We’re silent except for our ragged breaths and neither of us attempt to move as we both come down from our orgasms, neither of us seeming to mine that we’re a mess.
I can feel my cheeks flush and not from the sex but because that might’ve been the quickest quickie in history, and I’m pretty sure neither one of us meant for it to be a quick fuck. I know I didn’t at least—I had my hopes on a long night filled of Stryker and his cock, but it was more like seven minutes in Heaven.
“That was—” his sentence trails off as he takes a deep breath and lifts his head from my shoulder.
“Quick,” I finish, swallowing the embarrassment. “I’ve been kind of having a dry spell,” I blurt, slamming my eyes shut. “Not that I’m dry like you know…down there, but dry as in…oh fuck this,” I hiss, sighing heavily as I open my eyes and stare back at his amused face. “I’m trying to say I haven’t been with anyone in a while,” I admit. “Like months.”
His lips quirk as he releases my hands from above my head and reaches for the hem of his shirt, using the t-shirt to wipe my stomach. He then takes my arms and wraps them around his neck.
“Glad I could be of service to you,” he teases, pausing a moment to stare at me. He brushes the hair away from my eyes and kisses the tip of my nose before speaking again.
“It’s been a while for me too,” he confesses. “I can do better than that. Fuck, I want to do better than that. I want you every which way I can get you, make you come as much as you can in a single night. I want you wet and screaming so long after we’re done, and when the morning comes you’ll get off to the memory of us alone,” he says as he presses his lips to the swell of my breast.
“Are those dirty promises?” I smile faintly.
“Give me five minutes and I’ll make good on them,” he vows, setting me down on my wobbly legs. My hands fall to his shoulders as he bends down and drags his jeans back up his legs, not bothering with the button and only zips them. He winces as he straightens his body and stands to his full height.
An awkward silence falls around us and I start to search the floor for my clothes.
“Would you like something to drink?” I ask, not meeting his gaze as I fit the camisole back on and lift my torn panties from the floor, realizing I won’t be able to put them back on.
He reaches out and grabs my hand, pulling my back against his chest.
“You won’t be needing clothes for the rest of the night, pretty girl,” he whispers against my ear.
Goosebumps spread over my arms and he must notice because he rubs his hands up and down them.
“Water would be good,” he adds, before slapping my ass playfully.
I’ve lost my fucking mind.
It’s the only excuse I can come up with as I follow her further into her apartment. I peel my eyes away from her body as she walks around the island that separates the kitchen from the living room and take in her space. Everything in her apartment reflects who she is. She wasn’t bullshitting about red being her favorite color—even has a red sectional to prove it.
My leg cramps and I brace my hands on the back of the couch as I lean over, closing my eyes, taking deep breaths through my nose waiting for the pain to pass.
“Here,” she says, returning with two bottles of water and handing me one. Her smile falls as she narrows her eyes and studies my facial expression. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Yes,” I hiss, forcing myself to straighten up and shake out the pain from my leg. It doesn’t work, never does and despite my efforts to conceal it I limp the few steps toward her and take the bottle of water from her hands.
“Are you sure? You look like you’re in pain,” she asks warily.
Ignoring her question, pushing the pain from my mind, I guzzle the water until the bottle is empty.
“My leg got fucked up while I was over there,” I admit, not sure why I do as I drag the bottle away from my lips. I had meant to ignore her question, finish my drink and do what the fuck I promised I would which was fuck her senseless. But one look into those eyes and the concern radiating from them, which was something rarer than the color of her eyes, and I was telling her shit I told no one. Nobody ever looked at me like that—like they genuinely gave a fuck. But this girl, this fucking girl I just met did. Talk about a mindfuck.
Staring at my legs, chewing on her bottom lip, and if I have to guess she’s probably trying her hardest not to ask a million questions. I take the bottle from her hand and walk to the kitchen island and place both of them on top of the counter before turning back to her.
“Where’s your bed?”
I follow the direction of her gaze and glance behind me at the hallway off the kitchen before turning back to her and crooking my finger at her. She comes without hesitation but continues to stare at me silently. I won’t let the shrapnel in my leg stop me, won’t let that fucking war take anything else from me—especially not tonight. Fighting through the pain I bend my knees and lift her into my arms.
“Stryker,” she gasps.
“No more talking unless you got something dirty you want to whisper in my ear,” I challenge, walking down the hallway, passing the bathroom, the empty bedroom and finally finding hers at the end of the hall. I drop her onto the edge of the bed and watch as she bounces against the queen size mattress.
Her teeth sink into her lower lip again as she moves further across the bed, propping her elbows on the mountain of pillows and stares at me. I reach behind me, bunching the fabric of my shirt in my fist and pull it over my head. Her eyes widen as I chuck the shirt to the side and she takes in my upper body for the first time.
“Both your nipples are pierced,” she exclaims, moving onto her knees.
“Surprised?”
Walking on her knees to the edge of the bed, she laughs before flicking the barbell pierced through one nipple then does the same to the other. Her dainty fingers glide over the chest piece inked to me as she scrutinizes it.
“Wrapped up in you,” she reads the words scribed to my chest, but surprisingly her tone isn’t questioning. She runs her index finger along the body of the serpent that tangles with the vibrant eagle tattooed over my pecs. I grab a hold of her wrist, unwilling to explain the ink that adorns my body and lean over her, gently pushing her back onto the bed. Every tattoo has a meaning and only I know the significance behind each piece. I cup her chin, tilt her head back and force her focus back on my eyes. She reaches behind me and pulls my baseball hat from my head, exposing my shaved head. Her silky fingertips glide over my head before her eyes latch back onto mine.
“You’re full of surprises underneath all these clothes,” she teases, her lips curving as her hands fall to my waist, sliding around to my front and drawing down the zipper of my jeans.
I kick off my boots and lift the hem of her camisole over her head and expose her to my hungry eyes.
“Lean back,” I order, as I inch further out of her reach. This is my time to enjoy her—she’ll get hers. She has killer legs, the kind you want to wrap around you and you don’t care if they’re around your neck or your waist just as long you’re wrapped up in those sexy limbs. At least I don’t care and tonight I plan on having them around both my waist and my neck.
One night to get it all in.
To get my fill of Gina.
Could it be done?
Probably not but I was no quitter.
My eyes drink her in starting with her long, olive colored legs to her hips, wide and full perfect to hang on to. Her body is full of curves but her waist pinches in. Her stomach is flat and tan like the rest of her—she’s perfection. I zero in on the slight scar over her belly button and I kneel onto the bed, reaching out to run my fingertips over the scar.
“I was eighteen and stupid,” she murmurs as I question her silently. “Belly button piercing,” she explains.
“Looks like I’m not the only one with surprises under their clothes,” I say, running the heel of my hand up her abdomen between her perky tits. “Anymore piercings?”
“I pierced my tongue once but took it out the next day,” she gasps as my hands cup her breasts and my thumbs graze her pert nipples.
“Pity.” I wink before settling between her legs and lowering my head to press my lips to her neck.
“I have a tattoo,” she blurts.
“I’ll get to it,” I assure her as my mouth travels down the nape of her neck to her collarbone, spreading kisses across it. Her back arches off the mattress and her nipples press against me, begging for my attention.
“How long has it been?” I ask as I pepper kisses over her tit, purposely avoiding pulling the tight bud between my teeth just to torture her.
“Hmm,” she murmurs, closing her eyes.
“How long?” I repeat as my tongue flicks her nipple teasingly. Blowing over the wetness my mouth leaves behind, I pull away and demand an answer with my gaze.
“Months,” she hisses.
I take her nipple between my teeth and tug on it earning a moan from her lips as she moves her hands to my head and presses my face against her. My tongue soothes the ache my teeth leave behind and then I perform the same assault on her other nipple.
“Jesus,” she cries, rocking her hips against me as my mouth devours her. My mouth leaves her breasts and I kiss my way down to her navel, vowing to go back for more. I want those things bouncing in my face as she fucks me, and before the sun comes up, the pretty girl with the green eyes is going to ride me—fast and hard.
My tongue slides over the part I crave most, enticing a moan from her before my teeth tear the lace, dragging it down. I loop my finger through the elastic on her hip and with the help of my mouth I peel the thong down her legs.
She bends her knees, plants her feet on the mattress and spreads her legs for me. I palm my erection through my pants as I stare at her glistening cunt beckoning me to claim it as my own.
My leg cramps again but I grunt through the ache and kneel on the bed once more, placing my hands on her inner thighs and spread her wider. I lift one leg, straighten it and kiss my way up the inside of her thigh before I drape it over my shoulder.
“You’re a goddamn tease,” she groans, throwing her head back against the pillows with a huff.
“I’ve got you,” I declare. Spreading her lips apart I steal a glance up at her face but she has her arm thrown over her eyes. “Gina.”
“Hmm?”
“Eyes,” I remind her. “Told you I was gonna give you something to get off to when this is over. You’re gonna want to watch, burn this to your memory, pretty girl.”
She moves her arm and lifts her head from the pillow. Her eyes, two emeralds, stare back at me.
“Those fucking eyes,” I seethe, shaking my head. “This pussy,” I add, running my finger down the seam, coating it with her essence. “They’re already burned to mine,” I say as I bring my finger to my mouth and suck the remnants of her first orgasm on my tongue.
So fucking sweet.
I dip my finger inside of her again, pull out, and lean my arm across her body.
“Open up,” I demand.
Her naturally pink lips part without hesitation and wrap around my finger.
“That’s all you,” I tell her as she wraps her hand around my wrist, holding my hand steady as she withdraws my finger from her mouth with a pop.
I want her to remember tonight, I want everything I do to her to haunt her long after I’m gone. But more than that I want to remember and when I close my eyes, I want the memory of her to erase the nightmare of war. I want this pretty girl with the green eyes to visit me at night and not the demons that already do.
And so I pretend I’m a normal guy who picked up a gorgeous woman in a bar—not a broken man debilitated from nightmares of war.
I fuck her until I can’t anymore, until the both of us are physically exhausted. I don’t want to move. I want to lay beside her, fall asleep with her, wake in the morning and go another round before we part ways.
But I don’t.
Me and my demons leave her tangled in the sheets of her lonely bed.
I tell myself it’s just as well because class and trash don’t mix.
Just like angels and demons don’t.