“Sorry…” I breathe out, my head spinning uncontrollably.
I’m starting to feel sick. And I’m damn certain that my dinner is about to get launched onto that man if he doesn’t move aside.
Please, don’t let me projectile my vomit onto someone.
My knees suddenly buckle under me, and I slam headfirst into the stranger in front of me. He smells like rum spice and musk–and it envelopes my senses like a tidal wave. He catches me by the waist, holding me up with one hand. His touch is gentle, yet firm. I try to steady myself and push the man away, but any strength has left me.
I peek up at him, but I can only see a blurry face. He mouths something, but I can’t make out the words over the sound of my heartbeat pummeling, and it feels like it may burst any second.
It’s freaking hot in here. Why is it so damn hot?
I can’t stand the feeling of my suit pants straining against my erection. Wait a damn minute. Why on earth am I hard?
My body no longer responds to me, and I cling to the man in front of me, pathetically hoping he’ll save me from this anguish. “Fuck…me.”
My voice comes out whiny, and I internally cringe. It’s as though my mouth is working by itself. What am I even doing? Did someone slip something in my drink?
Fuck, this is bad.
The fucking worst.
The man’s hand shifts from my waist to my lower back, tightening his grip on me. He presses me against his firm body, making me shudder.
Shit, he’s muscular. I can feel a six-pack pressing against my stomach. He’s at least a head taller than me, and I’m not considered short by any means. He must be at least six feet two. I can’t see his face with the blazing heat hazing my mind and vision.
“Should I help you, then?” His voice sounds like warm whiskey in a cottage during the peak of winter. A rich, silky, and deep voice. Exactly my type–what are the odds?
I cling to him, throwing my arms around his neck. He lowers his face to mine, and his lips graze my neck as he inhales my scent. The man releases a hum of satisfaction, as though he’s been waiting for this moment for a century.
In the face of danger, I should fight my way out of his arms. Yet, I part my lips and kiss him–deeply. I genuinely expect him to push me away–but he does the complete opposite and instead bites down on my lip. It’s sloppy at first, but he quickly gets the hang of it, making me crave more.
I taste the faint flavor of alcohol on his tongue and slightly relax in his hold. He’s as fucked up as I am, isn’t he? Two wasted men making out in the middle of a hallway.
Goodness, it’s ridiculous.
I have to fight these weird urges. I can’t just fuck some random man whose face I can’t even see. This is risky, to say the least, and we’re in the middle of the fucking hallway!
As if he read my mind, he takes a step back and grabs my hand, leading us toward one of the many hotel rooms.
Wait a damn minute. What’s happening? Are we really going to do this? Honestly, I’m all for it, but I doubt that’d be a smart decision.
He kicks the door open like he can’t wait to get inside, then slams it shut behind us. I barely have enough time to say a word when he pins me against the wall and undoes my tie. Throwing it on the ground, he unbuttons my shirt, eager to taste my skin. His hands reach for my shirt and strip me out of it, releasing me from my shackles.
“Wait...”
Wait, my ass. I want him to devour me on the spot and end this suffering.
He slows down his pace and gazes at me for a beat. Oh my, he’s actually waiting as I told him to. Obedient and blessed with a maddening physique. Perfect.
I let out a chuckle and arch my back away from the wall. Our lower halves graze, and he grips my hips, grinding into me. A soft whimper escapes me as his teeth find the tender hollow space between my neck and shoulder. It stings, but it sends my mind into oblivion, and I want more.
I need more.
My fingers clench on the hem of his suit vest, and I gasp when his hands reach for my zipper. He caresses me over the fabric, and my dick twitches at the contact.
He smiles against my neck. “I missed you.”
The night begins now and will only end when this ache has been extinguished. Maybe he’s imagining someone else’s face as he trails kisses down my throat. But again, who cares? He’s kissingmyskin, and right now I need him inside me, or I’m going to lose it.
