ou look like you need someone who isn’t going to leave you all night. Or someone who won’t bore you.”
Well, well, well. I’m guessing this guy’s going to tell me he’s exactly who that is.
A waiter passes us and my prospective suitor reads my mind, taking two flutes of champagne off his tray. “What are we drinking to?”
“To the promise of something thrilling,” I flash a smile with teeth at him. He’s all confidence and cockiness. I’m not about to let him hog all that fun.
I swear, a designer dress, glossy red heels… something about these labels just makes me stand five inches taller.
Literally, in this case.
“What’s a good-looking guy like you doing in a place like this?” I pose an airy question to him.
His smile would light a fire. Actually, it kind of does. “Clients. Practically the last year’s worth of clients, all collected in the same room. Word of mouth really must be how I get all my work.”
I find I’m surprised to discover he works for someone else. The way he walks around, acting like he owns everything… you’d think he was the boss. Princely, that’s the word you’d use to describe him. Look at his build. All upper body strength and muscularity, arms like tree trunks. A chiseled sort of hot. “Tsk,” I say with casual dismissiveness. “I didn’t realize you were just like the rest of us, underlings working for someone else.”
“That’s how the world works, angel,” he tells me. “I’m Jagger. I pilot for these guys, so technically… they might pay me, but I own them. Up in the air, I’m the boss. Their lives are in my hands.”
“The boss? Or the captain?” I tease him.
His eyes light up. “You know how some guys get crazy turned on when ladies like you pout and call them ‘Sir’? Well, I’m like that with Captain. Be careful now…”
“Oh, I will,” I tell him, practically thinking out loud.
He’s definitely hot. I mean, I have eyes, everyone can see that. And he strikes me as fun, too. Almost on the edge of being too cocky, but I can tell he’s the rare sort of man with a self-assurance that comes validated by his mastery of all of the things he brags about.
Cocky… and probably with a big cock.
My toes curl in my shoes at the thought. Otherwise the shudder of excitement would trill up my body. And that would give too much away. Most men don’t read all of those little signals. Damn it, most men don’t read any of them. This one, though, I’ve a feeling he can read me like the instrument panel on a flight deck.
“So, these events involve polite high society,” as he talks, he doesn’t hide the fact that his eyes are sliding all over me, “I’ve told you my name. You gonna tell me yours?”
I pause to sip on my drink. He can have my name, but I make him wait for it. “Alexa.”
“Beautiful name.” He lifts his glass. “Naturally, of course.” He leans closer. His voice is low and his breath is warm on my throat. Under my ear. “You’re a beautiful girl.”
That sort of flattery is the exact kind of thing I immediately see through, typically — it’s always such a cheap, easy thing to go with. But with him, it doesn’t ring false.
It’s not even in the way he says it. It’s in the way his body exudes a primal desire.
Yeah, I bet he’s amazing in bed.
Sure, I like going out and seeing if anybody could rock my world like that… but most of the time it’s something that’s just hypothetical. Sonya might tell me not to misbehave, but when do I ever do that, really?
So it’s even more atypical of me to actually lean forward, brushing my fingertips along the front of his shirt. Expensive, I can tell. Tailored, too. “Nice to meet you, Jagger.”
“Pleasure’s all mine, Alexa. You’re not here for work, I hope? That was your friend there.”
I raise an eyebrow. “How’d you tell?”
“She had a notepad app out on her phone as she made a beeline for a B-list celebrity. Then she flitted around every photographer in the house,” he grins at me. “Not so hard to tell.”
“Well, yeah. That’s Sonya for you. She’s a diligent one.”
“And you?” he asks.
“Oh, I always come to these things. So often that I have to temper the boredom by hoping I’ll bump into someone outside my usual set,” I lie, enjoying the act of weaving a silly fantasy for him. It’s not likely to impress him, but it’s harmless and a little morsel of fun. “Has to be done. If only to keep up appearances, you know?”
“Tell me about it,” Jagger says. “I hate these things. But hey, Miss Karina’s comped me a hotel room, so consider me well-compensated.”
“Well-compensated is better than overcompensating,” I tease him. Miss Karina? I act like I know the name, but it doesn’t really ring a bell.
“Trust me, I’m not the kind of guy who drives a big Hummer because in middle school he was too shy to shower with the other guys,” Jagger says, watching me carefully.
“I didn’t realize that was your thing,” I reply. “Showering with other guys.” I give it a moment. “Yet here you are trying to pick me up?”
He looks in my eye and I feel a thud inside like a low depth charge as he touches my arm. “That a challenge, Alexa?”
“Maybe,” I tease.
“Well, how about we get out of here, and see if we can find us a real good time?” Jagger offers. He looks around, waving his hands theatrically. “It sure won’t be here. Just a bunch of suits talking shop.”
I’m about to say yes, then I feel the sudden smack of reality catching up with me. “I… uh, I’m really not looking for anything with anyone right now. Thanks, though.”
Now that got Jagger interested. He even laughs a little. “Princess, what I’ve got, every woman’s looking for that. And I feel like you really don’t want to miss out on a wild time tonight. This could be a magical one…”
“You’re a romantic,” I tease back. And arrogant as hell!
I look around and know that Jagger’s not wrong. I’m not exactly at ease here at the party, and if I was ever going to leave with anyone, it would only ever be with someone like Jagger.
He knows it, too, because he’s lingering just long enough to hear me reconsider.
I giggle. “What could you possibly do to prove it?”
The doors of the hotel elevator close and we’re surrounded by mirrors. His hand rests on my waist. I could turn my head. Our mouths could touch.
I tell myself I’m not going to stay the night. I might not even stay longer than ten minutes to swallow a drink if I get even the slightest hint he’s all talk and no action.
Of course, in Jagger’s hands, I can easily tell that there’s no such thing as all talk and no action.
The ding of the elevator bell startles me. My knees are watery as we move down the hallway. In one movement, he slips a card in and out of the lock, he has the door open and he’s swept me inside. Big suite, I just about notice.
He’s got his hands on my waist, a firm grip reminding me of his intense interest. Intense. That’s a perfect way to describe him. A man like Jagger. I barely know the man, but I know he’s someone who never resorts to half measures.
It doesn’t look like he’s spent much time in the hotel room — his bag’s at the foot of the bed. It’s a plain, cabin-sized black rolling suitcase that looks exactly like what someone takes on a plane. Not showy. Probably expensive.
“Guess you weren’t lying about the job, Captain,” I tease Jagger. His body vibrates with the sort of sexual energy that makes me realize just how much smaller I am compared to him, and just how much that turns me on.
His arms are so much stronger than mine, especially when he pins me against a wall, the moment the door snaps shut behind us. “I wasn’t lying about this, either,” he growls, making me instantly wet at the sheer virile growl that carries his words.
It also helps that my hand finds its way to the bulge of his suit pants.
Holy. Fuck. I gulp
My body is perfectly ready for him, and I duck down so I can keep myself from being cornered by this ravenous man. The giggle trickling out of my lips makes him want me even more. I can tell and he can, too. I pull him by the front of his suit jacket towards the bed.
“This doesn’t mean anything, okay?” I tell him, first and foremost.
His mouth sets, stern. “Hard, rough sex is always a very serious matter to me, Alexa,” he replies.
“Uh, I’m serious,” I remind him, although my seriousness may be undercut by the way I fling my arms around the back of his neck and pull him, encouraging him, urging him to kiss me, deep.
Our lips connect. First the thrill of unfamiliar flesh. Exploration, testing and and tasting. Intimate closeness. Discovery. And our breaths mingle. I feel his heart bang against my chest and my heat swells. It’s like he plugged his soul into mine. Or mine into his.
Just the right buzzing flutter of pressure. Lips, mouth, tongue, all work together to make the whole show happen. Fireworks.
“Goddamn,” Jagger whispers, once we pull away from the kiss. “Alright, no more joking around. Doesn’t mean anything. That’s how I like it. One and done.”
“One and done, lots of fun,” I rhyme.
“That’s a good girl.” His voice is all hunger and appetite.
Jagger growls as he pushes me down on the bed. He lifts my dress by the hem of the skirt. “Pretty little thing,” he says, sliding it up, as I gyrate my thighs to make it easier for him.
An absolutely wicked thought comes over me. “Maybe we can keep the dress on,” I say, biting my lip.
It will have to go right back to the dry cleaner’s, but it’s not like Helen needs to know.
Not unless Jagger messes things up for the both of us, that is.
He sees the look in my eyes and I see his eyebrows arch with curiosity, but to his credit he doesn’t ask — he does. He lifts the skirt just enough to bare my panties, my best pair (ahem, Sonya and I did plan for this to be a night of hedonism, at least for me), leaving the rest of the dress.
I press my chest into him as he starts to pull off his clothes, with my help.
Not that I’m helping a lot. He has other plans for me. “Keep stroking. Right there,” he growls, a glance down to my hand, holding the hot bulge of his pants, like he wants to remind me it’s still there. Like I might forget.
Like I could ever ignore that cock outline. If he’s even a fraction of the size his bulge seems to hint at, I’m already feeling my body clench in reflexive arousal.
The purest pleasure.
Jagger begins planting kisses on my thighs. Over my hips. On the cool, quivering bottom of my stomach. Then. On the stretched, hot and now wet fabric of my panties. He admires the lace with approving moans, and I can feel myself get soaked so much my panties will need their own trip to the dry cleaner’s.
“Goddamn, girl,” Jagger repeats. “You taste fine.”
He stretches the syllable long enough that I interrupt him to pull his head towards me for another kiss. My mouth trembles. His grin is evil as his head shakes. His lips plunge back down on me. His tongue traces my fold. The tip finds the hood and the base of my bean and he trills and thrills me until I writhe and begin to moan.
Then his tongue slips over my mound. Inside my panties from the side. And down. He slips it, long, strong and mobile into my folds. Slowly, into me.
Higher.
My thighs slam to clasp either side of his head. He stretched deeper. My walls vibrate around him and I clutch in my own hair. My back arches as he sends me into a gushing burst of uncontrollable splashing tingles. The flexing width of his tongue stays there while I shake and moan. He waits, like a gentleman, edging me on until I subside, moaning in trembling waves.
When he comes up finally for the kiss, I’m ready to eat him.
He rises up between my thighs, parted for him, spread and my hips grind for him already.
And with a graceful motion that reminds me more of a dancer than an alpha male hunk, he slips out of his pants and his cock approaches my petals.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, making it sound like a prayer.
The heat of him is alarming, and the hardness. But the size, as he engages with the inside of my lips, my breath is sucked away. Surely I can’t take all of that?
The first thrust he makes into me stretches me and makes me moan so loud he silences me with another deep kiss. He’s so huge, as he keeps on coming in, I’m afraid and I’m trembling with awe.
My nails claw at his back and my thighs pull and spread as wide as they can.
It seems impossible. But rather than piledriving and ripping me open, he slides in like he’s parting me with a surgical knife. Or opening me on a sword. A long, magical, steel sword.
Omigod. I don’t know whether I’m more shocked by his size or by his awesome expertise. He takes time to let me adjust. My legs wrap tentatively around him. I’m wetter than ever and I rock to help him slide all the way in. When I feel his hilt all the way against my mound, I have to kiss him.
The place, high and in front, that most men never find, he’s riffing on it. Blips and bursts of sensation explode inside me. The gleam in his wicked eye makes my think he can feel me, fly me like he flies a plane.
Soaring, turning, swooping to dive and then climbing, fast and impossibly steep. High. Higher than high.
And from there, we commune perfectly. He sets the pace. I let him fly me. He slips into me, thrusts his cock deep, grips my hips, tugging at that dress.
That’s Fendi, I want to remind him in my brattiest voice. I’m impressed I can even think at all right now, because all that’s coming to me is the rushing waves of pleasure sparking along the hot heft of his amazing cock.
“Oh my God, oh my God,” I continue moaning, pulling him to me. Our eyes meet, and I can see pure fire in his eyes. He wants this. He wants this bad.
I’ve never felt more desired by a man. Specially not one I only intend to fuck once. That idea makes it even more liberating and I raise my ass to bring him deeper still.
My body bottles up the arousal that rapidly surges to every part of me, knowing that my climax is inevitable, knowing that Jagger has perfect control over our colliding bodies. One touch of his fingers to my lips and I know he’s going to stop at nothing to give me the greatest orgasm I’ve ever had.
“I’m so close!” I tell him urgently.
“Good girl,” he growls right back, embracing the immediacy of my pleasure. “You’re going to come for me, and it’s only up to me.”
“Yes,” I moan. “I’ll come for you, I want to, so bad.”
“Good girl,” he repeats.
My orgasm shakes me so hard my slit tightens and it almost pushes Jagger right out. Then he slams back in and lets go, pumping so hard, I think I’m going to pass out. I think I did. I completely lost track around that point. The last thing I remember before I fade into the potent fog of bliss is the force of his Herculean moan.
My hands grip and claw. My arms and legs stretch like every spark of energy is crackling its way out of me. Out through the gasp as I see the look in his eyes.
After that round with Jagger, my body is over-sensitive. I sweat and twitch in his bed, mouth agape, allowing myself to pause as everything else in the world goes on without me.
Jagger breathes heavily, a sheen of sweat bronzing his gorgeous features, and his cock is still rock hard. Never mind the way he pulled out of me and cannon-blasted a load all over the wet patch of the bed, which I had already marked with my own arousal.
The rich smell of intense sex is heady, overpowering my hypersensitive self.
So it happens that I practically perceive every microsecond of the way Jagger leans over to me, holding his cock, about to initiate round two.
Just the sight of this hunk, naked and wanting me, is enough to get me so wet I’m ready to soak through his sheets again.
Yet, as I’m about to embrace all that, I begin to feel something wrong. A growing panic, far away in my head.
I sit up quickly, almost freaking out. I instinctively begin pulling the dress down, edging away from the wet spot — wet half, more like — of the bed.
“That was wonderful,” I breathe a wistful edge on my voice. Then, with a cock of my head, “Sorry.”
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about, beautiful,” Jagger whispers hoarsely. “Although I wouldn’t mind a thank you.”
“Thank you,” I say quickly, not catching his joke. “I mean, I’ve got to go.” I flash a made-up smile. “This was just what I needed.”
If I don’t move and get out of here, my feelings will get the better of me. This was for fun and just for fun and it was fun and we both had fun and now it’s time for me to run. While I still can. Even though I’m not confident I can actually stand.
I make an effort to appear steady as I get up. I’m already looking around the room, trying desperately to find something to do, or go to. His bathroom! That becomes my first choice.
Maybe I can pee for a really long time, or something.
The problem is, as I lift myself off the bed, Jagger does the same, and he follows me.
“I get it. You’ve got a boyfriend, you just couldn’t resist,” Jagger says nonchalantly. “Hardly the first time that’s happened to me. Stings a bit each time, though.”
The glare I give him softens to a smile and a laugh. “No, I don’t have a boyfriend. That’s sort of why, though.”
“Had one,” Jagger guesses. “Until recently.”
“Let’s just say one-and-done rules make this a no-fly zone, Captain,” I shut him down.
I also can’t help but notice the way his cock pulses when I call him his favorite title. “Ooops,” I hastily add. “Captain Long, right?” I shouldn’t have.
That’s when I know. If I don’t get out of here like now, I will slip and fall for his charm, and then I’ll crash and burn.
“Like I said earlier,” his eyes are smoldering. “You got nothing to be sorry about. Fine, you need to go, that’s all okay with me. Can I call you a cab? Drive you back? Lady’s choice.”
Ever the gentleman.
“I can handle myself, I’m a big girl,” I say, with just the tiniest hint of flirtation. Can’t help it.
“That much I very well know already,” Jagger responds. And it works. The inside of my thigh tingles. “Okay, fine. You’re happy, I’m happy. One and done. Had our fun. I can rhyme too, see?”
“Sweet. You’re a great guy,” I tell him, sounding sarcastic but meaning every word. My feet are getting heavy.
“Tell you what,” Jagger says, leaping up and over to the desk by the hotel room window. There’s a notepad. He begins to scrawl, stripping the first square-shaped sheet off and folding it for me. “This is my number. Like I said, lady’s choice. I don’t mean to flatter you, but you really are a bombshell in bed. Assume this means nothing. That means I want more nothing. Easy enough to understand, right?”
I wasn’t expecting this. I’m about to slip back into my heels and exit with his number folded into my hands, when I decide that’s hardly the fairest thing to do. “Tell you what,” I counter. “Take my number instead. Lady’s already made her choice.”
“Hell yeah,” Jagger grins. He waits as I take the pen from his hands and start scribbling my number. I glance at it again just to make sure it’s correct. “So… guess I’ll see you soon, then?”
I have my hand on the door, just now realizing that I’m still flush from the blinding orgasm he gave me. “We’ll see,” I say. I’m determined to pull down the shutters. But my voice betrays me, thick and dripping with promise.
Outside the room I lean on the door. then I imagine him opening it. Me falling inside. I’m unsteady as I run for the elevator.