Exorcism
I TURNED TO RYAN.
"I need you to fuck me. Right fucking now," I exhaled.
His body stiffened, and he looked at me in surprise. Then he started to grin, but looked me in the eyes and looked concerned, his eyebrows furrowing, his jaw set. "Do you want the coat closet or do you want me to get a room?"
I loved that he didn't question it.
"Either, Ryan. Now." I ordered.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me to the check-in desk. "We need a suite," he demanded.
"Yes, Mr. Fielding," smiled the obsequious male employee, who started to type on a computer. Of course they fucking knew him at Bacara. The employee continued, "That will be-"
"It doesn't matter," Ryan cut him off and handed the employee a black AMEX credit card (why hadn't I noticed it before?) and signed the check-in form. The employee handed him two keys, and then Ryan grabbed my hand, and pulled me to the elevator.
The elevator opened immediately, and he hauled me inside, then pushed me to the walls, pressing his hard body against mine.
"What the fuck, Amelia? Are you okay?"
"No. No, I'm not. I need you to fuck it out of me."
"Fuck what out of me?"
"That I'm a fucking snob."
He shook his head slightly, and looked adorably confused. "What?"
"I thought you were a coffee shop manager."
"I am a coffee shop manager."
"But you're Ryan Fielding. Everyone knows about Fielding Pharmaceuticals. I had no idea you were related."
"So?" he challenged.
"You're completely out of my class."
He pulled back, his face looking thunderous. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"Do you own that coffee shop?"
"Yeah. I own ten, and I'm working on franchising them."
"Then why are you working the counter and wiping down tables and driving around a beat up old truck, for fuck's sake?" I yell-whispered.
The elevator door opened. He grabbed my hand and pulled me down the hall. I was practically running in my heels to keep up with him. He opened the door, hauled me in, and closed the door, then slammed me up against it. He didn't turn on the light and I didn't bother to look at the room. I only saw him. He glared at me, his body pressed to mine, fury emanating from him.
"Slowly, now, so that I understand. What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On?" he demanded.
"I thought you were just a surf bum and a coffee shop manager. I'm totally attracted to you, but I thought … I thought … I'm such a bitch …." I trailed off.
"You thought I was lower than you," he hissed.
I really didn't want him to know that was what I'd thought of him. But I wasn't going to lie. Time for the truth. "Yeah," I admitted.
He pulled away from me with a growl, turning away. Then he looked back at me, his face pained. "What does money have to do with anything?"
"I'm sorry. It's the way I was raised. It's everything to my parents. In fact, my mom found out I was seeing you, and tried to get me to stop." He looked incredulous. "Obviously I stuck up for you, and told her she was wrong. But still, there was this part of me who was, who was … ." I couldn't finish that sentence. "So now I come here and I find out that you've been hiding all of this from me," I continued, gesturing around the room.
"What, exactly, did I hide from you?" he asked, dripping with venom.
"That you're way out of my league."
"I'm not. I didn't hide anything from you. I invited you to my house, for God's sake."
"Where do you live?"
"Faria Beach, on PCH." It figured that he lived on Pacific Coast Highway, the ocean-front location of world-class real estate. A shack cost two million dollars. I shook my head. "Honestly, Amelia, I figured that since you looked me up, and knew that I went to high school with you, that you Googled me." I shook my head in response.
"Is there a Wikipedia article about you?"
"Yes. I figured that you'd already read it, since you Google everything."
Fuck. Completely out of character, I hadn't Googled him. We stared at each other.
"Is this a reason not to see me?" he asked, still pissed. "My money?" he spat out.
I paused.
"No." But then I went on. "But you're not who I thought you were."
"I'm exactly who you thought I was," Ryan argued back. "Nothing's changed." He looked me in the eyes and, after a moment, when he spoke again, his voice softened. "You really didn't know, did you?"
"No," I said, quietly.
"I'm so used to people knowing who I am and wanting me for my money, I just assume—" he began.
"I assumed, too. We were both wrong, I think. I think I just learned a lesson about not jumping to conclusions about someone."
"I'm not going to hide it, I'm pissed at you, Amelia. What the fuck are you thinking about money and class and shit like that for? Isn't the only thing that matters whether we like each other, and whether we make each other happy?"
"You're totally right." I felt contrite. "I'm an asshole. I don't deserve you."
"Stop it." He took a deep breath, let it out, and looked down at me. "First fight, huh? Well, I wasn't expecting tonight to be one for a fight." He gave me an ironic smile.
"That makes two of us," I muttered. "So what do we do now?"
"I just want to be with you. I couldn't give a rat's ass what happens downstairs. I can make excuses if I need to."
"Do you have to give a speech?"
He looked away. "Yeah."
"Fuck. When?"
"Not until after dinner. Look, you're more important. Are you ready to go back down? Do you need to chill here for a while? Do you need me to fuck you?"
"Door number three," I whispered.
"Yeah, me too," he whispered back. And then a change came over him, and he went into Ryan-Alpha-hot-guy-in-control mode. "Come on. I don't want to mess up your hair too much, it's too pretty, so we're going to do this this way." Now that I looked around, I was in the most incredible hotel room I'd ever been in. A luxury suite, tastefully decorated in soothing beiges and modern furniture, with more rooms than I could see. "Keep those sexy as fuck shoes on. I'm going to bend you over the bed, and fuck the bitch-snob out of you. Deal?" I nodded. "I need to hear you say it."
"Deal" I said, more strongly. "Make me forget that I ever thought less of you."
We went into one of the bedrooms—there were two!—and he pressed me into the bed, breasts crushed against the mattress, ass in the air, still fully clothed.
"I'm going to mess you up a little bit, but not too much. You're just too hot, your gorgeous ass in this dress. I had to fight getting hard, seeing you." He lifted up the skirt of my dress, way up over my hips and waist, and put his face on my lower back, kissing me softly. Then he hooked his fingers in both sides of my panties and put his teeth on the waistband of my panties, peeling them slowly off of me with his fingers and his teeth, his nose trailing down my lower back, my butt crack, and between my legs, as I stepped out of them. I looked back, and he had shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket, and flung it on an armchair.
He knelt between my legs, pushing them way apart, and licked his way up my leg, pausing to suck on the back of my knee, and then traced his tongue up my inner thigh to my pussy.
So now I was calling it "my pussy." Progress.
My ass up in the air, his face between my cheeks, he began to lick and suck my pussy in his dominant, giving, way. He fondled my butt then slipped a finger into my pussy, as he licked my clit, my legs spread wide, my face pushed into the bed. This was what I needed.
"Oh, fuck yes. Yes."
He built me up quickly, my sensitive nerve endings singing as he licked and caressed me with his tongue and fingered me with expertise.
It built.
It built some more.
It built even more.
Sensations, pleasure, feeling, tension, and more pleasure, all built, centered on the activity of his tongue, that man between my legs.
Then I came, a full and complete release of all the tension, all the crap, all of my mistakes, my scream muffled by the bedspread. I released my ignorance, my bitchiness, and my colossal error in judgment about this awesome guy.
In a flash, he had unbuttoned his tuxedo pants, lowered his zipper, adjusted his boxers, and released his cock, rolling a condom on.
Yes.
Quickly, he filled me up from behind with his huge cock. This time, he didn't wait for me to get used to the size of him within me, just started thrusting as I came down from my orgasm. As was my custom with Ryan, I lost the ability to process rational thought. All I was doing was feeling. I was in the moment, feeling pleasure, feeling the delicious pain of him hitting me up at my womb (or wherever in my body the tip of his penis hit), feeling him go in and out, in and out. I was glorying in the connection with this amazing man.
"Oh, fuck me, you are so wet. This is so hot. You are so goddamned beautiful, I'm going to come so hard." He kept up a kind of muttered dirty diatribe, as he thrust and thrust into me.
This was fucking, no question about it. Rutting. He was not making love to me. Even though we were in a classy place, partially dressed in classy clothes, this was baser stuff. He got me off, and now he was getting off.
But the thing was, I loved it. It was a monumental connection with him. I turned him on, he turned me on, but we also were creating something new here. His hands were braced against the bed, fucking me thoroughly, without apology. Even though he wasn't stimulating my clit, I could feel an orgasm coming.
Fucking hell.
I had never, never, never had an orgasm through penetrative sex alone. I’d never come without someone, or me, stimulating my clit on the outside.
But something about Ryan hitting the inside walls of my pussy, there's that word again, must have really hit the right spot, because I started to convulse again. This time my orgasm was sweeter, more surprising, and more intense than ever before. Ever, in my life. It was a different feeling, a different sort of orgasm, more natural and organic, unforced, and overwhelming. With every quick, hard thrust of his cock, he stimulated the right spot. Boy, it was like he hit a trigger on a reaction that I never knew I could have.
I came. Again. Just by his cock stimulating the right spot.
This time I completely came apart, uninhibited. I screamed, I clenched the sheets and released them, my arms and legs were completely useless, and I felt amazing.
Ryan thrust a few more times and, his dick impossibly huge within me, he shuddered. I actually felt the warmth of his cum within the condom. He collapsed on my back, breathing hard. I was breathing hard too.
We just lay there for a while, our breathing strained, until it eventually regulated. He pulled my hair out of the way, nuzzled my neck, and said hoarsely, "Wow."
"Yeah. Wow. I think you fucked not only the snob out of me, but also the bitch, and you may have even exorcised the princess too."
"I like the princess," he said against my neck. "The snob and the bitch, eh, I'm fine with, but if you wanted an exorcism of them via fucking, I'm happy to have been the one to do it."
He pulled out of me and pushed up, pulling off the condom and heading into the bathroom. "Be right back."
I shoved my face in the bedspread, and took a deep breath. I couldn't move, but I sure felt better.