She chuckles, turning back with a smile on her face that stops me in my tracks. “No, I wouldn’t be bringing a stranger into my house the second time I meet him . . . and I’m not local. This is a hotel.”
The reception area is dark and quiet, the probability of someone working right now slim. This is reckless; if I was a dangerous man, she’d have no way of alerting anyone else.
“I’m not a stranger. You are.” My whispers carry through the space as we continue down a corridor and stop in front of a room. A room she opens with a key from the case on her phone. The entire room smells like her: oranges, lemons, maybe even grapefruit, like a citrus fruit salad exploded.
“I’m as much of a stranger to you as you are to me,” she replies, turning and letting her dress drop to her feet, leaving her in those sexy as hell heels and nothing else.
“I still don’t know your name.”
My strides reach her quickly, careful not to touch, as if she’s made of glass and I might break her. I want her to say she wants me before I go any further. Her body does, but I want words. I want to hear her say it, and I want her to tell me her damn name.
“Top drawer.” Half the time, she makes zero sense. Top drawer what?
“What?” That makes her smile wider, and I roll my eyes. She points to a drawer, where I find a clear bag full of condoms. “Came prepared, huh?”
“I’m always prepared, and I’ll tell you what.” She bites the corner of her lower lip, right where I want to bite myself. “Make me come again, and I’ll tell you my name. But hurry, because I told my friends if they don’t hear from me in the next hour, send the police.”
She twirls her hair in her hand and tosses it over her shoulder, allowing her breasts to be on full display. My dick sure as hell is happy to see them. She says we don’t have time; I can work with that. I’ve been ready to be inside her for a whole ass year.
“How do you like to be fucked, mystery girl?” I step out of my shoes and closer to her.
“Slow and tender.” Her skin breaks out in goosebumps under my careful touch down her arm.
“Fast and deep.” The space between us is practically non-existent now, and she catches a breath.
I lower my lips to the shell of her ear, breathing her all the way in and whispering, “Or you don’t care, just as long as I have you screaming my name.”
She shudders. “I’m not a screamer.”
“I would love to test that theory.” I cup her face with one hand, allowing me to hold her in place while I lick her neck—oh, she tastes so sweet.
She tilts her head back, granting me better access, and I bite tenderly. She hisses and arches her back, pressing her chest to mine.
“Go ahead. See what you find out,” she sasses.
Fuck yes.
“I’ve been thinking about this moment for a year.” I hold her face in my hands and stare at her, hoping my gaze reaches her soul. Have I invaded all her fantasies and dreams as she has mine?
“Get on your knees on the bed.”
She blushes and nods, walking backwards, her heated gaze eating me alive as I take my clothes off. “Is that a thigh tattoo?”
I nod, bringing my index finger to my lips. “Shh, it’s a secret.” This little tattoo almost got me in trouble with my parents, who are ‘your body is your temple’ fanatics and didn’t allow tattoos.The first thing I said I was going to do after leaving their house was get tattoos everywhere, but I haven’t had time at all. So just one, a small rock with waves crashing on it. My little rebellious act.
She reaches down to take her shoes off, but I shake my head, stopping her from doing it. “Those stay on.”
Her gray eyes linger on my body, raking every part of me. When they reach mine, I smirk. “So tell me—what’s better: your dreams or reality?”
“Funny, I don’t seem to remember telling you I’ve been dreaming of you.” She’s so sassy, and all I want to do is fuck that mouth of hers and see what she thinks of that.
“We both know you did . . . but let me answer that for you.” I reach for her, my hands digging into her hips and flipping her over, pushing gently until her hands touch the bed. “I’m about to give you something to dream about.” She eyes me sheepishly, and I smile. “Get on the bed.”
She climbs up, her perfect ass practically in my face, testing me, teasing me. My handprint is still on her right cheek. I lick the mark and then kiss it, whispering into her flesh, “I’m sorry for this.”
“I’m not.” She pushes her ass back, pressing against my lips. I smile; what else can I do?
“Anything off limits?” I ask.
