“You are unreal,” he breathed.
His voice turned me on so much it was almost embarrassing. He only had his hands in my hair, but I could feel him all over my skin, burning and pulsing in all the right ways.
I wanted to be disrespected, devoured, and cherished all at the same time.
But as I took him in my mouth as far I could, the deep growl that hissed through his teeth made me want to keep pleasuring him until he was saying my name.
He gripped my hair tighter and tossed his head back. “Fuck, Anna.”
I kept going. I never particularly enjoyed this act of floor play, but for some reason, with Isaac, I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t get enough—not until he was spilling down my throat.
I sat back on my heels and looked up at him with a delirious smile on my face as I swiped my bottom lip with my thumb. His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath, bringing him down. He let out a low laugh before beckoning me to stand before him. I rose slowly with his finger under my chin.
“Anna, that wasn’t fair,” he whispered, deep and throaty. “I haven’t even gotten to see you yet.”
A euphoric laugh escaped my lips as he backed me into the central part of the hotel room. When we stopped, we were standing at the end of the bed. His undone pants were slung at his waist, and his shirt was open. I was shoeless with smeared lipstick but otherwise wholly dressed.
“First,” he began, slipping my dress over my shoulders. “I’m going to take this off. Then I will admire every freckle on your skin and every curve of your body.” He flicked the last of the fabric over my shoulder, and the delicate material fell and pooled at my feet. “Then I will touch you in every way I possibly can. Then, I will make you say my name like you just made me say yours. And if you don’t want any of that, I need you to tell me now.”
I smiled at him as he gingerly brushed his fingertips under the lace of my panties. “And here I thought you were going to surprise me,” I teased, then inhaled sharply as his fingertipstouched me, swallowing my words as my legs weakened at his touch.
The movement was soft and circular and perfect. I clung to his shirt and pulled it off him. I needed every piece of clothing off of both of us... immediately. There was a primal need to feel his skin against mine no matter what regret may hit me the following day.
I didn’t care, not about anything.
Except him.
Within moments, we were bare, face to face and skin to skin. He danced his fingertips on my body, finding the freckle on my shoulder. He kissed it once. He traced his finger to the next one on my chest and kissed it, too. Then to my belly. Then, he moved over to my hip and around to the middle of my back. He traced each freckle like he was charting constellations. It made the moment far more intimate than anything I would have ever expected. It was like he wanted to commit me to his memory.
And I hoped he did. I hoped he found precisely what space in his mind I would occupy for years to come.
“Lie down, Anna,” he said, and I didn’t hesitate.
He hovered over me, kissing my hip bones, my navel, my chest, my neck. My throat hitched as I felt him position himself above me in a way I knew that everything I wanted was about to happen. But before I felt the pressure I so desperately needed, he spoke.
“What do you want, Anna? I’ll give it to you. Just tell me,” he whispered against the skin just below my ear.
My fingers curled into his back as I pulled him closer. “I want you to make this so good, I never forget. Months, years, decades from now. I want the memory of tonight to be something I’ll never forget.”
He pulled back so I could see his eyes, hooded and determined.
I wish I could say the rest was a blur, but it’s all a vivid memory, alive and replaying in my mind.
Every touch, every taste, every turn, every movement, every moan, every word, every time I said his name. I knew it was only for one night, so I treasured all of it and hoped I’d never forget.
And the same for him. I wanted him to remember me. I wanted him to remember that for one weekend, we pretended to love each other, and somehow, it would become one of my favorite memories for years to come.
Afterward, I laid on his bare shoulder, tracing a languid finger from his chest hair down his abdomen.
“What is your real name?” I asked.
“Oh, now you want to know my real name? After you’ve been yelling my fake one.” He laughed, and I buried my face in my hands.
“I think we decided your name was Isaac before you could be anything else,” I admitted. “But honestly, it worked because I didn’t call you the wrong name once.”
He smiled down at me and kissed my forehead. “It’s Isaac.”
My jaw dropped. “Stop it.”
