I definitely can't blame this on the beer. The only thing I'm buzzing on right now is Stryker. The way he's touching me, even if it is only my feet, feels warm and tingly. Looking at him has been good from the beginning. But listening to him say he's not interested in love? That's sexy.

Don't get me wrong-- I guess it's kinda sad in its way, but it hits me somehow. The way his jaw twitches a little when he says it. Like he really means it.

He's heard my story. The bastard ex that walked out on me without warning. I came home to a note on the kitchen counter that said he "couldn't do this" anymore with his key to the apartment taped to it. He'd had his buddies come and move all his stuff out during the day while I was at work.

What a fucking coward.

A few months later, I get notice that I'm being laid off. The company is downsizing and I got caught in the purge.

That's the whole reason I'm on this trip: burning up vacation time that I'd been banking for a honeymoon that's never happening now before I lose it when my job ends in another few weeks.

The bike's the only thing left of me and Bryan. I didn't even want it, but Bryan insisted I needed my own bike when we went to the desert with his buddies. At least he picked something street legal when he decided what I should get without asking me what I wanted.

Something about hearing Stryker talk about not looking for anything permanent goes right to my core. I love that we're on the same page. I love that he's not going to be begging me to stay or following me back home. I love that when I impulsively crawl across the couch and straddle his lap, he's kissing me back like it was his idea to begin with.

His mouth is hot and his tongue coils with mine till we're both too breathless to keep talking. The only thing I want him saying to me at this point is exactly how he's going to fuck me.

I moan at the thought, my hand wandering down his chest and pulling at the hem of the t-shirt while his hands wrap around to grip my ass cheeks and pull me hard against him.

A gasp escapes me at the rough feel of that thick ridge digging into me through the flannel pjs.

Damn these fucking pajamas! I want to feel him. I've been drooling over his body all day, even when I was sure he was an asshole that didn't deserve the time of day from me.

I just don't care anymore. I don't care that it turns out he's humble and kind and can cook like an Italian grandma. We're here together for the moment and I plan on taking advantage of it.

My hands don't have a chance to slip between us before he's pulling my t-shirt over my head. OK, his t-shirt, really. It's way too big on me and he has to tug on it to get the knot I tied in it to come loose. As soon as it does, though, the shirt lands on the floor somewhere behind me.

Again, I don't have a chance to get my hands on that hard pole I'm grinding against because Styker's hands wrap around my breasts and his mouth finds one of my nipples.

My head drops back and I have to hang on to his shoulders to keep from tumbling backwards.

It feels so good, his tongue tracing the outline of my aereola in tighter and tighter circles till it flicks across the hardened bud in the center and then his teeth latch on, tugging lightly till I can't help but cry out. Then his head moves to the other breast and he repeats the process till I'm panting.

His hands wraps around my waist and I lean back, giving his mouth better access so he can make his way down my body.

Before I know it, I'm falling slowly backwards, landing on the shag carpet with Stryker positioned between my thighs.

His mouth continues to tease my breasts while his hands wander down my body till he's pulling the bow in the drawstring loose and slipping his hand beneath the worn flannel.

My eyes close and an involuntary gasp escapes me as his fingers find their goal and slide between my folds.

At first he touches me softly, gently, exploring and gauging my reactions while his mouth returns to mine for more hungry kissing.

It's been a long time since a man touched me like this, even longer since it felt this good. In fact, I'm not sure it's ever felt this good.

His touch becomes rougher, his fingers seeking the sensitive spot that makes me gasp again and tighten my hold on his shoulders.

"I like it when you do that," he murmurs against my lips. I'm not sure what it is that he likes, but the calloused pad of his fingertip brushes my clit again and I don't have time to ask. My hips buck against his hand and I cry out.

"Just like that."

I open my eyes and see him smiling down at me, his finger brushes over that tender spot again and it's all I can do not to beg him to make me come.

"I want to watch you come for me, Jordan." I watch his eyes fix on mine and I don't know if I'm lost in the deep blue depths of his gaze or the sensation of his fingers strumming me like a guitar. "But I want to taste you too," he says, his voice a shade darker, coarser, laden with lust as he moves purposefully and I feel his fingers replaced by the hot, wet feel of his mouth.

His tongue flicks expertly across my clit, his lips sealed against me as his fingers slide inside me again. I feel the orgasm building. My muscles tighten and I hear myself breathing harshly as he brings it out of me.

"Let go, baby," I hear him whisper, "just let go and come for me."

Holy shit, I'm not sure I've ever heard anything sexier than the sound of his voice at this moment. I don't know if it's his hot breath against my skin, or the permission to give in to my own pleasure and only my pleasure that his gentle command holds, but I obey.

My body trembles and his hands grip me and hold me steady, his tongue resumes its maddening tap dance against my clit and I don't have a choice anymore. I feel the climax sweep over me and I'm caught in the crushing wave that consumes me for a moment that seems to go on forever.

"God, Jordan," Stryker's voice is strained and his words come out as a clipped rasp between soft bites to the inside of my thigh as reality slowly returns, "you taste incredible."

His tongue drags along my seam in a long, slow motion to prove his point.

"I need to feel you do it again," he's over me now, lined up with my body and I feel his naked cock press against my mound, "this time I need to feel you come on my cock."

He's face to face with me, his eyes holding mine without blinking when he says it.

I've heard guys talk dirty before, but it always feels so fake-- like they're trying too hard. But not Stryker, there's an urgent sincerity in his voice that makes his words sound less dirty and more matter of fact and there's something about that that goes straight into my brain and travels like electricity into my core.

It sets off a need inside me that leaks from my body as another surge of moisture rushes out of me and I wrap my legs around his waist.

I'm not thinking clearly. Somewhere in the back of my head through the fog, I know it. I just don't care. All I care about right this second is getting that monster erection that's pressing into my stomach inside me.

"Please," I hate the weak sound of my voice whimpering but it's the best I can manage. I'm lucky I can remember words at all at this point.

Stryker smiles and grinds against me again, this time moving a little lower so that the head of his cock digs into my mound and I feel the slickness of precum spread over me.

"Please what?" he whispers against my ear.

I know I don't have to tell him. I can hear it in his voice, how hard he's working to hold back.

I tilt my hips slightly and he almost slips into me.

"Uh uh," he almost chokes on the wry laugh as he takes my wrists and pins them to the floor above my head, "no fair, tell me."

It's part plea and part demand and I'm surprised that he's holding out on me but his eyes are watching me and his lips brush mine as he begs me to beg him.