Violet
Maybe it was the dark. The neon colors. The flashing lights, music, or the glow-in-the-dark paint.
Perhaps it was the way Stark danced.
Whatever it was, something came over me.
Something very real and raw. Something so strong it was irresistible.
One moment we were walking into a rave, and the next, I was brazenly leaving glow-in-the-dark kisses all over his skin. His dancing was like foreplay. The best damn foreplay I’d ever experienced.
He made me want him by the promise in which he moved. Inciting desire and leaving a trail of heat every time we touched. And, oh. His hands were everywhere. In my hair, caressing my bare arms, brushing over my collarbone.
Just watching his muscle move and work beneath the smooth skin I’d just covered in paint made me long for more. So when he asked me if I wanted to leave, it really wasn’t a question.
It was more like a must.
After we dropped Nate off, the sexual tension in the Jeep rose to about level twenty. He didn’t touch me, though, except with his eyes. They would drift away from the road occasionally to stroke over my face or my chest before returning.
By the time he parked and came around to open the door for me, my nipples were so hard you could see them through my bra and tank top.
His eyes went right to my chest when he helped me out. My body slid down his on the way, and once I was on my feet, he lifted his thumbs and brushed them across the hard pebbles.
I shuddered, quaking visibly in front of him. He made a sound of pure desire, put an arm around my shoulders, and guided me into the building.
I was nervous, probably more than I ever had been before. I wasn’t a virgin. I wasn’t new to attraction… but this.
This wasn’t attraction.
This was something else entirely.
I couldn’t explain it. I could only feel it. It was sort of a cross between awkwardness and shameless desire. A combination that didn’t really go, yet here it was churning me up inside.
“Give me the key, Vi,” Stark murmured, breaking me out of the trance I was under.
I glanced up, blinked. His mouth lifted in an echo of a smile. “What?” I asked.
“I need to key to get us in the building.” His voice was patient.
It was his patience that also made me slightly mad. How could be so level headed? I was over here ready to explode.
“Right,” I said, forgoing my usual snarky replies. I had to pull out from beneath him to reach for my back pocket.
Stark caught my hand, stopping me. “It’s in there?” I felt him gesture.
I nodded.
Gently, my hand was pushed away, and his long, thick fingers delved into the back pocket of my jeans for the keycard.
I turned my face so he couldn’t see the way my eyes melted closed. Or the way my tongue jutted out to wet my lips.
He found the key quickly, of course. Yet somehow, the act of retrieving it wasn’t a quick thing. His nimble fingers brushed over the rounded curve of my ass, gave it a light squeeze, and then wrapped around the plastic key. He dragged it upward, as if using it to stroke my cheek, and I had to admit it freaking turned me on.
Once the card was free, my muscles relaxed, having been so tense anticipating every single second he touched me. Even though his hand was done, Stark was not.
Standing just behind me, he leaned close, pressing his chest against my back and leaning over my shoulder. Both his arms came out, caging me in, surrounding me.
He smelled like beer and paint. And slightly of sweat. My body tensed again even as it swayed backward, farther into the circle of his body. He laughed low, a rumble that vibrated his chest and my back.
The beep of the card reader on the door barely registered in my brain. Stark pulled the door open, but neither of us moved. Instead, his face dipped into the side of my neck and left a circle of wetness where he kissed.
The cold night air brushed over it when he pulled back. I shivered. Stark gave me a gentle push. “Inside, baby,” he murmured. His words were a stroke to my already swollen libido.
We walked down the quiet hallway, and he swiped the keycard again, pushing open the door to my dark room.
The door closed with an audible latch, and I felt, rather than saw, him move toward the light switch.
“Wait,” I said. Offering no other explanation, I moved around the room I knew even in the darkness. It took a minute of rummaging, but I found what I was in search of. After unwrapping the cord, I flipped a small stand on the back and set it on the center of my coffee table. On top of my closed sketch book.
It took a minute, but I found the outlet in the wall and matched up the prongs. Seconds later, the small floodlight flickered on.
The room immediately glowed with a purple cast. The glow-in-the-dark paint covering our bodies suddenly lit up, nearly as bright and bold as it had back at the warehouse.
Stark was leaning against the door, his hat and face paint suddenly standing out. His teeth glowed when he laughed.
“You have a black light in your room?”
“I went through a phase with glow paint.”
He shoved off the door, prowling toward me. “I don’t like that.”
My toes curled into my sneakers, anticipation making it hard to stand still. “It was on canvas… not on a man.”
“So I’m your first?”
“First human painting?” I tilted my head, and he drew up in front of me. “Yes.”
Stark lifted a strand of pink-painted hair between us and smoothed it between his fingers. “There’s something about you,” he murmured. “Something I’ve never recognized in anyone else.”
“What is it?” I asked, unable to hide the tremble in my voice.
His teeth glowed again. “I was hoping you’d tell me.”
I returned his smile. “I don’t know what it is either.”
“I sure as hell feel it,” we both said at exactly the same moment.
Our eyes snapped up, bouncing between each other, knowing we understood exactly what we didn’t know.
Still holding his gaze, I tugged the hem of his shirt. “I can’t see all your paint.”
Stark dropped the hat and glasses on the table, palmed the back of his shirt, and pulled it off in one smooth movement. God, that was fucking sexy. Have you ever noticed that before? The way a man takes off his shirt, the way it basically just obeys and jumps off his body the second he gives it a tug.
His chest lit with color. I lifted my palms to rub over his pecs. Beneath my hands, the muscles bunched and the pounding of his heart smacked against my palm.
Stark reached for the shirt tied around my waist and shoved it free, fingers delving beneath the hem of my tank and caressing the skin of my stomach.
I jolted from the contact, not used to being touched there. He paused and glanced down. Feeling his eyes, I met them.
“I want you.” His voice dropped to a deep rumble. “Tell me you want me just as much.”
“I put glow-in-the-dark kiss prints all over you… I’m pretty sure that was me staking my claim.”
The whites of his eyes glowed when they flared. “Say. It.”
“I want you.”
Sliding his hand around the back of my neck, Stark pulled me in. Our lips met softly at first, throwing me off balance. I thought, based on the aggression and heat in his words, he would come at me hard and fast.
Instead, his lips brushed over mine in a tender caress, then did it once more.
I made an indulgent sound, trying to curl my fingers into his shirt and pull him closer. There was no shirt, and I ended up cupping his pecs.
He smiled, as if he knew exactly what kind of game he was playing, as if he’d written the rules. His breath was warm, just like his body, when he lowered again, kissing the tip of my nose.
That one-second kiss on a spot that wasn’t really considered sexual turned me into putty.
Just before my knees buckled and I slid quite shamefully to the floor, his arms wrapped around my waist, holding me firm.
This was the kiss I’d been waiting for. The one that took. The one that gave. The one that promised I would never, ever forget his lips on my skin.
Goose bumps quite literally raced over my body, heightening the sensation of just about everything. My hands fell from his chest, clutched at his belt loops, and held on. His hand cradled the back of my head when it fell back, lips parted, inviting him deeper. His tongue stroked out, reaching into me, touching far more than just the inside of my mouth.
Abruptly, he yanked away and spun me so my back was to his front. My chest was heaving as he pushed my hair over one shoulder, leaned down, and latched on. He kissed his way across the top of my shoulder and burrowed into my neck. With a groan, I tilted my head to give him better access, reached behind me, and fisted my hand in his hair.
He sucked my flesh deep, at the same time pulling my ass into his groin. His hard erection rubbed brazenly against my butt, and I wished there was a hell of a lot less fabric between us.
Stark’s mouth released my neck, kissing around to the back of my shoulder and then nibbling on that spot… the sweet spot on the back of my neck.
I shuddered, and he drew away. My shirt was ripped over my head, and then slowly, torturously, he peeled the bra straps down one at a time over my shoulders. Still feeling his steely cock at my ass and his firm chest along my back, his arm came around my middle from behind and his other reached for my breast.
The fabric of the bra still covered me, but his fingers didn’t care. They delved, quite skillfully, beneath the cups, baring my flesh to the air and his palm.
He covered it completely, as if testing the weight and fullness.
He grunted, satisfied. I felt his hot breath at my ear. “I always knew you had enough to fill my hands.”
I arched into him, pushing the swollen, aching mound closer.
His cock jerked against me as he moved back just enough to undo the clasp at my back. The bra fell away, and both his hands came up, covering both breasts.
The attention made me squirm. It made my panties damp and the desire I’d already felt turn to desperation. As he played, his lips kissed my back, my neck, and over my shoulders.
Just when I was about to beg, he latched onto my nipples, giving them a pinch that shot a bolt of pain/need all the way down into my panties.
With a great gasp, I spun, reaching for his jeans. I felt the heat of his eyes as I unbuttoned the fabric and slid the zipper down. I didn’t hesitate. Whatever nerves I felt were overruled by hard need.
The second I was able, I shoved my hand deep into the jeans, rubbed along his stiff rod, and then wrapped my hand around it. Stark hissed. His hips jutted forward, and I gave him a firm stroke, reveling in the control I had over him in the moment.
Keeping my hand wrapped around his dick, I reached up, grabbed a handful of the long strands on top of his head, and went for his lips.
If he could torment me, then I could return the favor.
My body might not be magazine ready like his, but the passion that flowed through my veins? Let’s just say I could argue it was the reason I was so damn curvy.
I’d always been passionate. I felt deeply. Almost to the point it was a flaw.
But never. Not ever had I felt passion this great for anything but art.
Until now.
Until Stark.
The realization made me gasp so hard it pulled me away from him. I wobbled on my heels, using his cock like an anchor so I didn’t fall on my ass.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he half growled, towing me back.
“Nowhere,” I replied, breathless. “I’m not going anywhere.”
My hand was still wrapped around his dick. He was so hard it practically vibrated in my hand. I wished I’d delved beneath his boxers, that there was no fabric between our skin. I’d been impatient, though.
Even in the dark, I saw his eyes flicker. Or maybe it was just the emotion he carried that shifted. Either way, I felt and saw it. His body angled closer, sort of like he was realigning with me.
The next thing I knew, my face was cupped in his palms. I had a moment of marveling at just how large they were, surrounding my head.
“Vi,” he spoke, his voice not cutting into the sex-hazed room. Instead, it added to it.
How had I never noticed just how intoxicating his voice was?
“Stark.”
“This is me right now. I want you to know that. Me.” The pad of his thumb stroked over my cheekbone. “I’ve never been so present with anyone as I am with you right now.”
My hands circled his wrists as I pushed up onto tiptoes. I tried to reach the spot I wanted. When I couldn’t quite make it, I made a sound and tried to tug his head down.
Instead, he crouched and picked me up. Automatically, my legs went around his waist. His arms locked under my ass. “Better?” he asked, tilting his face up.
There were paint smears all over his face, across his chest, and even a little in his hair. I felt his heart beating every time his chest rose. His arms didn’t shake while he held me. He stared as though I were indeed all he saw.
My heart turned over. Right there in the middle of this impassioned moment when we were about to have some earth-shattering sex. He went from tender to fierce then gazing at me with vulnerability in his eyes.
Stark was gorgeous. Commanding. Had a rhythm all his own.
Know what else he was?
Something that seemed to foreshadow everything else and stir up that passion inside me unlike anything else.
Human.
He was human. Just like me.
Taking his face in my hands, he watched as I dipped my head. I kissed the tip of his nose tenderly, just as he’d done to me.
His throat bobbed as it worked. I leaned my forehead against his and let the butterflies in my stomach take over. Stark whirled around toward the bed that was glowing brightly in the black light. My back hit the mattress. Cool, soft sheets rose up to mold around my body, but I barely noticed. Stark loomed over me, his wide shoulders blocking out everything. The kisses on his face glowed like a road map, highlighting destinations I’d already been but would definitely revisit.
My legs were still locked around his hips. He settled over me, between my legs. We began kissing again, my body straining up against him. The more skin I could get on his, the happier I would be.
His hands explored my upper body; mine explored his. We moved together as if we were already having sex, yet his body had yet to penetrate mine.
Stark rose onto his knees. My legs fell to either side. His fingers hooked in the waistband of my pants, and I lifted my hips, inviting him to strip me bare.
The second I was, insecurity creeped into the edge of my mind, threatening to overshadow the way I wanted him. He tried to push me back, but I resisted, instead tugging on his already open jeans.
He fell to the side, bouncing the mattress a little, and shoved the boxers and pants over his hips. Rising onto my knees, I pulled the clothing free and tossed it all onto the floor. My gaze ate up his entire body, the way he looked sprawled out on my bed, glowing with smeared pant, his cock standing up.
His chest was smooth and hairless. His entire body was silky smooth. The lines and sinew of his body were utterly graceful, his rigid dick promising strength.
Without even thinking about it, I leaned down. The strands of my hair brushed over his abs before my lips got to his skin. His stomach jolted the second they made contact, and I smiled, but didn’t lift my head.
I kissed over his abs, swirled my tongue around his belly button, and then licked down the inside of this thigh. Stark made a sound, his hand tangling in my hair.
Instead of pulling his cock up off his body, I licked up it, starting at the base and gliding up to the tip. He pulsed, and I licked him again before boldly taking him into my mouth, sheathing him with all the heat there.
His legs spasmed, then settled back on the blankets. The hand in my hair went limp, and a small sound echoed through the glowing dark.
Confession: I’d never been all that impressed with the male anatomy. I usually much preferred a pair of wide, strong shoulders, an ornery smile, and a sexy head of hair. All the cocks I’d seen had been about the same, able to give some modicum of pleasure, but nothing that had the distinct ability to really hold my attention.
I knew now, though. I knew they weren’t all the same. As I stroked and sucked and felt him thrust up into my mouth, I became addicted.
I could have stayed with my head in his lap and played for hours. Every new angle, new stroke, the feel of him gliding past my lips… it was new every time.
“Vi,” he murmured, sounding drunk.
I looked up his body and smiled. His eyes flared and he moved, pushing me down onto the bed and coming over me. Without a word, his lips latched onto my breast, and my mind was wiped clean.
I opened my legs when his hand slid between them, gliding his fingers up my soaked slit. He growled when he felt just how much he affected me. Lifting his head from my breast, his mouth took mine, piercing me with his tongue at the same time his finger slid inside.
I moaned softly as we kissed and his hand became bolder.
When I started to pant, he pulled back, gazing down at me with an unreadable expression. I thought he might say something, but he didn’t. Instead, he slid off the bed and dug around in the pocket of his jeans.
Positioning himself between my legs, he ripped the foil packet open with his teeth, and I stared as he rolled the latex over his unyielding length. Our chests collided, and one of his arms dipped under me, pulling me closer. I titled my hips up, expecting him to plunge right in.
He didn’t, though. He gazed down at me, brushing his knuckles over the side of my face. My heart was beating rapidly. Hormones screamed beneath my skin. I was desperate to feel him inside me, yet he had the power to silence all of that with just a single look.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, dipping his head and taking my lips.
Our tongues swirled together at the same moment he joined our bodies. The hand not under me slammed down on the mattress beside my body, and my face fell to the side. Stark pulled out and thrust into me again. Pleasure sparked over my entire body.
He moved in bed the same way he danced. Like he heard music no one else did, fucking me with a rhythm no one else knew.
It crushed me. I literally felt my interior crumble to pieces as he held me with one arm and used his body to blow mine apart.
“Stark.” I gasped as he penetrated me again and again.
He lowered, brushing a kiss over my cheek. My fingers dug into his back as feelings and pleasure assaulted me. I knew when he was getting close to the edge because his head tilted back, affording me a view of his long, graceful neck.
Still gripping him, I surged up and licked up his neck, my teeth latching on his jaw. His body surged deep, so deep I fell back onto the pillows.
Instead of pulling out, he held himself there, deeper than any man had ever been before. I felt his tip twitching, as if it were an act of will he hadn’t already burst.
“I have to let go,” he rasped, pulling his arm out from under me, bracing his body above me.
My legs wrapped around his hips, pushing him even deeper into my core. He groaned and looked down, his eyes shuttered and hazy.
“Take me with you,” I intoned.
One thrust. That’s all it took. He moved just once, rubbing against the sweetest spot inside my body. I arched off the mattress as his dick practically ripped me in two. Stark’s shout broke into my bliss, bringing me back just enough so could feel him pour into my body. The way he pulsed made me sigh.
His arms were shaking when reality came slowly back, his body still deeply joined with mine. I reached for him, slipped my hand around his damp back, and tugged. He came, surrendering his weight, settling over me for long blissful moments.
Then, without a sound, he rolled, keeping himself anchored inside me so I was lying on top of him.
Cool air brushed over my heated skin, my cheek pillowed on his shoulder. I felt satiated, completely boneless. Strands of my hair stuck to my cheeks, but I didn’t bother to move them. I was too content.
Stark’s arms wrapped around me. His fingertips danced over my back, dragging up and down along my spine.
“Don’t move just yet, okay?” he whispered, tightening his arms around me.
“Wasn’t going to,” I whispered back.