“Tell me to stop, and I will. Tell me you want to end it, and it will end. Tell me what you want me to do, and it’ll happen.” His voice was low, sending vibrations through my skin. His torso was centimetres from me, his cologne heady and the feeling of his nearness – but not quite touching – teasing me enough to make my nipples harden and heat to bloom between my legs.
“I want you to kiss me.”
I didn’t have to tell him twice. He hitched me up onto the kitchen worktop and his mouth took mine in an act of possession that elicited a moan from me immediately, my arms hooking over his shoulders to stop my legs from giving way.
He made me weak-kneed, my body shouting at me that it had met its manna, and I wasn’t giving this up.
We didn’t need to give this up.
Whoever Ryan was didn’t matter. He was who I needed him to be, and that was all that was of concern.
Hands moved rapidly, fingers fast but deft, undoing buttons, unzipping, yanking material away to expose skin that was now a necessity to touch.
Ryan’s hand cupped between my legs once I was naked, his fingers running along my seam, finding my wetness. He toyed with my clit briefly, firmly, demanding my response, then filled me with one, two fingers, stretching my pussy.
Dirty words filled my ear as he whispered what he was going to do to me, how he was going to fuck me, telling me how I was going to make him feel.
I took hold of his hard cock in my hand, running it up and down his shaft until he roughly shifted my hand away.
“Do I need a condom?”
I made myself remember taking my pill this morning, weighing up the risk and deciding it was one I’d take. “No. No.” I shook my head. “Just…”
“Just what, Otillie? What do youjustwant me to do?” He’d removed his fingers, leaving me empty.
“Just fuck me.”
“Good girl. I like it when you give me words.”
I had no words after that. He pushed his swollen cock inside me in one slick motion, my body already on the cusp of exploding.
His movements were deep and hard, controlled, as if he knew exactly what he was taking from me, because he was taking.
Pleasure was etched on his face, but his eyes were demanding of me, and I knew there was no way he was going to let himself get there before me.
It didn’t take long; the angle of his cock and his relentless, steady rhythm found my edge and I came hard and ferociously, my body melting and becoming boneless.
Ryan held me up against the cupboard, his speed increasing, my body there for his using. Four, five, six more deep thrusts and he came, pouring into me, stealing my mouth for another kiss.
He carried me to his bed, roughly made up in the middle of an empty room, and the kisses continued. Softer, lighter, without the same level of urgent need.
We left the words in the kitchen, the discussion over for the night and instead lost ourselves in each other. It was easy to do, and there was a voice inside my head that told me it was too easy. I could become lost in this man, whoever he was, and I did become lost in him.
At midnight, I rode him like my life depended on it, teasing him almost to the edge, pinning down his wrists with my hands so he couldn’t touch, taking some of that control that passed easily between us.
By one, we were asleep in each other’s arms, cocooned and safe. London wasn’t even outside anymore, there was just a world that encompassed us, one that wouldn’t exist unless we let it in.
By six, I’d left his house, slipping out of the door into a taxi. I sent a message to his phone, carefully chosen words.
We had set the boundaries of our relationship: nothing more than sex in anonymous rooms. Long, luxurious fucks without demand or expectation.
Me: I’ll be in Manchester in a fortnight.
His response came a few hours later.
Ryan: I’ll let you know what name the room’s booked under. Take care until then.
Excitement was already brewing.
