CHAPTER THREE
Violet
Oh, holy hell.
That thing he just did was like a public service—a public service that should be open to all women, everywhere. Regardless of political party, race, religion or border. It should be law or something, I think with a laugh as I throw an arm over my eyes. I wonder what else this guy can do? How did he know how to get me off so quickly? We’re not even done yet and this has to be the best one-night stand in the history of sex. I can’t believe this is my life right now!
“Is something funny, love?” he asks as he stands and picks up his pants, retrieving a condom from his wallet before tossing them on the floor again. The skin around his eyes creases in a way that makes me think he’s amused, not hurt, by my laughter.
“No, nothing’s funny,” I reply, but I can’t keep the grin off my face.
I scoot back on the bed until my head is on the pillows. Then I remember that investigative news special I saw about hotel room bedding and cringe. I think I’m lying on a duvet cover though, and surely they wash those? But just in case, I slip my legs underneath and then flip the cover back and push it to the end of the bed.
The guy—Jennings—pauses with a small smile on his face, watching me. Whatever. Germs are no joke. I lean against the headboard and smile back at him. “So what else you got?” I ask and—what the hell—I run my eyes over him from head to toe. He’s still got his underwear on so I can’t check out everything, but I like everything I can see, that’s for sure. Broad shoulders. Impressive abs—how the heck is he almost forty? Narrow waist. Strong legs. Impressive bulge. What? Like I didn’t linger a moment there during my perusal? I pat the bed next to me with my palm and grin.
“What else have I got?” He laughs and tosses the condom on the nightstand before gripping my ankle and dragging me down the bed until I’m horizontal. I yelp in surprise before sucking in a breath as he lowers himself over me, holding himself above me with his arms. Then he kisses me and I groan. I can faintly taste myself on him and it makes me wet all over again. This man. His mouth. He’s… carnal and I love it. Maybe it’s a British thing? Maybe they’re all super-amazing in bed? I’ve never been with a man from another country before so I don’t have a comparison. All I know is tonight was a really good decision.
His accent is going to be the death of me. In the best way. I’m glad he’s not calling me Rose right now. I wish he knew my name. Hearing Violet on his tongue… And the way he keeps calling me “love”—it’s so British of him, right? And it works for me—like a lot.
His magic mouth skills do not disappoint in the kissing department either. It should be awkward, kissing a stranger. It sounds stupid considering what he just did with his mouth. That I’d even give a second thought to the intimacy of kissing mouth to mouth. Kissing is so filled with breathing and saliva, taste and tongues and angles and pressure and Mr. Mouth here is good at all of it. His lips move from mine to my jaw as I tangle my fingers into his hair. He sucks my earlobe between his teeth as the tiniest huff of breath in my ear makes me shiver before his tongue wets that spot just behind my ear, causing me to press my pelvis against him, desperate for more.
More of this, more of that, more of whatever he’s got to offer.
His mouth is on mine again and I moan when he drops his arms enough for my nipples to rub against his chest. When his tongue presses into my mouth and tangles with my own. When he nips at my lip and kisses his way down my throat. By the time he moves lower and cups the underside of my breast with one hand while flicking his thumb over the nipple, I’m ready to beg. Instead I swear at him.
“Fuck… Jennings.” I moan and arch my back when he flattens his tongue across the surface of my breast and flicks his thumb back and forth over my nipple again. That fucking mouth of his.
I need him inside of me. I can’t remember the last time I was this anxious to move from foreplay to penetration. When it didn’t feel like a cursory few kisses were delivered before the guy was whipping out his dick and grunting like he was fucking with way more skill than he had.
Like sometimes my ex Mark liked to bark, “Take it, take it,” while he thrust aggressively and I’d mumble something like, “Hmmm, yeah,” while I’d snake my hand down to rub my clit and think, Take what? Take what exactly? Because it mostly just felt like he was bouncing me on the bed and poking at me with a super-plus tampon while he played alpha man. And I am not saying this from a place of bitter ex-girlfriend. His penis was perfectly normal-sized. It’s just that some men have a really overinflated opinion of the skill they have with their average-sized penises. That’s all.
I’m positive that whatever Magic Mouth is packing under those cotton briefs he will use it with skill. He seems pretty skilled. Maybe being almost forty has its benefits? God, I hope he’s still got stamina though. Don’t men lose stamina as they age? Don’t let me down, Jennings, I think as I slide my hands down to his briefs and push them over his hips, my intent clear. Do not let me down. You are my first one-night stand, don’t be my last. Don’t be the reason I give up entirely and take up knitting and invest in a vibrator collection. Don’t be—
Never mind.
I’ve got his briefs past his ass. His cock just thumped onto my stomach. Like, if my stomach was capable of emitting a grunt from the contact, it would. Hell, yes. Keep calm and carry on. God save the Queen. Think of England. I let a giggle loose as he reaches for the condom.
“You’re a very odd sort of girl, aren’t you?” he asks, but he’s smiling again, a lazy lust-fueled smile that reaches his eyes. He has nice eyes.
“I’m usually the sensible one,” I murmur. Throwing caution to the wind has never been my thing, but I think it’s going to be. Why not, right? It’s not like I have an apartment or a job to lose. They’re already gone, might as well embrace it. Seize the day, carpe diem. Easy, breezy me.
“The sensible what?” he asks as he tears the condom wrapper with his teeth. Why is that sexy? I should probably get out more if that move is enough to do it for me.
“Nothing,” I reply. “Never mind,” I add while sliding one of my knees up to plant my foot on the bed next to his thigh. He’s slipped that condom on one-handed with practiced ease and settled both my legs outside of his on the bed. His weight rests on one arm as he uses the other to guide his cock, nudging at my entrance. He pushes just inside and it’s already good. I’ve missed this, and I decide then and there that the new carefree me is going to put out more.
Then he slides in deeper and it’s better than good.
He locks eyes with mine as he sinks all the way in. He groans and I suck in air. I wiggle my pelvis a little, adjusting to the feel of him while trapping my lower lip between my teeth, which he promptly removes with his own then kisses me.
I make a weird noise in my throat and rotate my hips towards him because he just feels so perfect. I clench around his cock and his eyes darken then close for a moment. When he opens them he grins and kisses me again before sliding back, almost out, then back in. He teases me with the most deliciously long, deliberate strokes. Deep then shallow. Receding then forging. When he pulls out to the tip I dig my fingertips into his shoulders, wanting him back. I’d beg him for it if he asked.
Instead he withdraws and moves to his knees, hooking my thighs under his forearms and pulling me to raise my bottom off the bed, then sliding back in. This time when he enters me it’s fast and hard. I reach over my head and rest my hands against the headboard, both to stop myself from hitting it and to aid him in his task. Sex has never felt like this. Never.
“Oh, my God, don’t stop.”
“I’m not stopping, love. Not a chance.”
His balls smack against me as he thrusts and it’s so lewd, the only sounds in the room skin slapping skin mingled with our breathing. It’s wet and hot, hard and dirty and I want to come right now, but I want it to last longer too.
Spoiler: it lasts longer.
Magic Mouth is also some kind of orgasm genie because he seems to know exactly how to keep me on the brink of coming, leading me right up to the edge then backing away. It’s agony.
“Please let me come,” I whine. “Please, please, please.”
“You are quite the delightful little surprise, love,” he responds as he rolls us over so I’m on top.
“I am?” I gasp. This new position is unexpected and I pause for a moment. I don’t really like to be on top.
“You are.” He cocks an eyebrow and taps my hip, indicating the ball is in my court.
I usually feel conspicuous on top. Exposed. But fuck it, I’m never going to see this guy again and I want to come. And I am in control up here. Plus, the way he looks at me is exhilarating. Like my tits aren’t too small and my stomach doesn’t look pudgy from that angle. No, I see nothing but lustful attentiveness in his eyes. I run my eyes over his chest again and lift up on my thighs just a little and slide back down onto him. He really does have a nice chest. Sculpted and toned with a smattering of chest hair that’s hot, not unruly.
“Touch yourself,” he commands and my eyes fly back to his. His hands have moved to my thighs, his fingers resting against my skin seductively.
I swallow and avert my eyes for a second, then look back to him as I move my hand to my clit. Then I rub two fingers over myself while setting the pace on his cock. Rocking back and forth, in and out. He watches me intently and when his eyes drop to where we’re joined my fingers still for a moment until he says, “Don’t stop,” his voice low and seductive, lids low, a groan coming from his chest. So I keep going, emboldened. His lust is encouraging. Empowering. I pick up the pace on his cock and with my fingers until I come.
It sneaks up on me, fast and hard. I drop my head forward, my hands braced on his chest for balance. He stills deep inside of me while I spasm around his cock, his hands on my hips holding me tight until the pulsing slows, and then he’s hammering into me from below, his own orgasm following with a ragged, “Fuck, love,” passing his lips as his eyes close, his head tilted back in ecstasy. His jaw tightens along with his grip on my thighs when he comes and I think he’s beautiful. I catalog his features in my memory before collapsing on his chest.
That was perfect.
The perfect one-night stand.