One Night: Exotic Fantasies. Maisey Yates
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walking her to the bed, up the step, laying her down on the soft mattress, his body over hers, making her feel small. Feminine. Beautiful.
He dipped his head and slid the tip of his tongue around the edge of one of her nipples. She arched into him and he sucked the tip into his mouth, his eyes never leaving hers.
“You’re so sensitive there,” he said, his voice sounding different, strained. “I love it.”
“I like it, too,” she said. It was the first time she’d ever really liked her body.
He tugged her panties down her thighs and she helped kick them off of the bed. “I stand by what I said earlier. Perfection.” He kissed her ribs, just beneath her breasts, down to her belly button. “Designed to take pleasure. For me to give you pleasure. Exquisite.” He moved lower, his lips teasing the tender skin. He parted her thighs and slid his tongue over her clitoris. White heat shot through her body, a deep, intense pleasure tightening her muscles. She gripped the sheets, trying to hold herself to the bed.
He slid one finger inside her and she thought she might explode. Then another finger joined the first and a slight stinging sensation cut through the pleasure. She held her breath for a moment and waited for it to fade. It would. She knew it would. And all the better if he took care of it this way.
He worked his fingers in and out of her body, each time, the discomfort lessened. And he didn’t seem to notice. Which was fine by her.
“I can’t wait anymore,” he said, his voice rough, broken.
“I don’t think I can wait, either.”
He moved up so that the head of his erection was testing the entrance to her body, his arms bracketing hers, his biceps trembling slightly. He was as undone as she was. It was such a wonderful, incredible feeling. It made her truly believe that she was beautiful.
He pushed into her partway then pulled out completely, swearing sharply.
“What?” she asked, hoping it had nothing to do with her virginity. Because she couldn’t stop. Not now.
“Condoms,” he said, his hands unsteady as he opened the drawer to the bedside table. He opened the box and pulled out a packet, getting the condom out and rolling it on to his length quickly.
“Oh. Good.” She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it. She should have. But there were so many things filling her head. So many emotions. She’d almost forgotten the most important thing.
Then he was back, poised over her, ready to enter her.
He slid back in as far as he’d already been, then pressed in the rest of the way. It was tight, but it wasn’t painful, the evidence of her virginity likely dealt with earlier.
He flexed his hips, his pelvis pressing against her clitoris at exactly the right angle, the sensation of him being inside her as her muscles clenched tight around him so incredible she couldn’t stop the moan of pleasure from escaping her lips.
She gripped his tight, muscular butt, so much more perfect than she’d even imagined. Everything so much more perfect than she’d imagined.
She wrapped her legs around his calves and held him to her, moving in rhythm with his thrusts, the pleasure building low in her stomach, emotion swelling in her chest, threatening to overflow. It came to a head, pushing her until she was certain that unless she found release, she would break apart into tiny little pieces beneath the weight of the pressure inside of her.
Then she was falling apart, splintering, release, pleasure, love, pouring through the cracks, filling her, washing through her. She dug her fingernails into his back, squeezing her eyes closed tight. She didn’t even try to stop the sharp cry that was climbing her throat, couldn’t feel embarrassed that she was arching and moving against him with no control at all.
Because he was right with her, his entire body trembling, his fist gripping the comforter by her head, a low, intense growl rumbling in his chest as he found his own release.
He lay above her, his breathing harsh, his heart pounding so hard she could hear it. And she was pretty sure he could hear hers, too.
“Wow,” she said.
He moved to the side, withdrawing from her body, one arm resting on her body. He was watching her closely, like he wanted to ask her something. Or like he thought he should but didn’t want to.
“You’ve never been careful about what you said to me before,” she said. “Don’t start now.”
He huffed a laugh. “Clara …”
“Actually I changed my mind,” she said. “We have one night. Why talk about anything?”
Something in his expression changed, hardened. “I think that’s a good idea.” He rolled to his side and stood up. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
He went into the bathroom and came back out a moment later.
“What do you propose we do, if we aren’t going to talk?”
She got up on her knees and went to the edge of the bed, wrapping her arms around his neck, uncharacteristic boldness surging through her. “I’m sure we can think of a few things.”
This was her night to have all of the man she loved. And she wasn’t going to miss out on a single experience.
Morning came too quickly, light breaking through the gauzy curtain that surrounded the bed, bringing reality in with the sunbeams.
She didn’t want the night to end. She didn’t want to face reality. She’d felt like a princess last night; beautiful, desired. She’d felt like her dream was in her grasp. And this morning she felt like she’d turned back into a pumpkin. Reality sucked.
She looked at the man sleeping next to her, the only man she’d ever really wanted. The only man she’d ever loved.
And today, she would have to get up and forget that last night had happened. She would have to consign it to the “perfect memories” bin along with other things she pulled out when she was feeling lonely, or when things weren’t going well.
The thought made her whole body hurt.
“I arranged to have the plane leave in an hour or so,” he said, his eyes still closed.
“Okay,” she said, swallowing thickly and sliding out of the bed, clutching the sheet tightly to her breasts, desperate to cover herself now, in the light of day. It was one thing to feel sexy, to be all right with her nudity when he was looking at her like he was starving and she was a delicacy. A lot less easy when he seemed … uninterested.
“I’m going to take a shower real quick.”
He made a noise that might have been a form of consent, but she didn’t ask for confirmation before beating a hasty retreat to the bathroom. She turned the water on and sat on the closed toilet lid, letting the tears fall down her cheeks, hoping the sound of the water hitting the tile would drown out the sound of her sobs.
Zack sat up, a curse on his lips. Last night … last night had been an aberration. A hot, amazing aberration, maybe, but it could never happen again. He had been careless. He’d nearly forgotten to use a condom. And she’d been a virgin.
If he’d thought about it, if he’d thought at all, he would have guessed that. He knew her well enough to have picked up on how nervous she was, to understand what that meant. He also knew her well enough to know she wasn’t really a one-night-stand woman. She was sensitive, emotional. Sweet.
His stomach twisted, nausea overtaking him, spreading through his limbs. She probably wasn’t on birth control, and there was a possibility that in that moment, when he’d been inside of her without protection, that he’d made a very big mistake.
No, he knew he’d made a mistake. He hit his fist on the top of the nightstand and stood, stalking through the room collecting his clothes. Had he learned nothing? Was he as stupid now as he’d been fourteen years ago?