I HOLD MY GROCERIES UP with one knee as I unlock my apartment door with my free hand. As soon as I open the door, my cell rings from my pocket and I have to drop the sack on the couch to pull it out, struggling to pull it free before it goes to voice mail.
“Hello?” I didn’t even get a chance to see who it is, and I’m almost certain I’ve missed the call in the brief silence before he answers.
“Are you available?” Stone’s words are clipped, impatient.
“Uh, I’m home. Just walked in.” My eyes narrow in confusion.
“Hotel Blake. Twenty minutes.”
“Why don’t you just come to my place? I mean, you were here last night.” I try not to let the surprise that he’s calling me show in my voice. Not to mention surprise at his effortless nonchalance over my breakdown last night.
“Because I need to fuck you and I’m sure your neighbor would appreciate the distance,” he pauses and I hear his thin thread of restraint in that silence—the demand. “This won’t be slow, and it won’t be easy. I’ll text you the room number.” The line goes dead.
My head swirls with questions and my heart hammers with anticipation. My usual compulsion for answers is overridden by the growing part of me that submits to his demands. I like that I don’t have to think with him, just do. No thinking twenty steps ahead, just right now, in the moment.
As in control as I usually require myself to be, it’s a refreshing and necessary change.
I run to my bedroom, shedding clothes as I go, until I’m naked in front of my dresser, digging for pretty panties and a bra, ones that still have tags on them because, until now, I’ve not had anyone to wear them for. Piling my hair on top of my head, I flip the shower on and jump in to wash off the remnants of my run, careful not to get my hair wet because there’s no time to fix it once I’m out. The excitement of knowing what I have to look forward to sends adrenaline through my body, I’m running on pure sexual desire.
After throwing on some leggings and an oversized sweater, thanking God for the creation of dry shampoo, I toss on my favorite Gucci ankle boots and head for the door. There’s no time to call Tony, so I walk around the corner and hail a cab. I don’t wait for long before one pulls up to the curb.
“Hotel Blake, please.” I jump in and he resets the dashboard meter. I use the time to apply light makeup and attempt to settle my nerves.
When I woke this morning in just my shirt and panties, I had to lie there for a minute before I remembered how I got there. After I had given myself the initial fuck me reprimand for how drunk I’d gotten with the band, and the near life-altering decisions I made trying out the new me, I remembered the things that really mattered; Stone bringing me home, to my apartment, him undressing me and getting me into bed, him laying with me when I asked him to stay.
Telling him about my nightmares.
Shit.
It’s not that this—us, was ever going to follow Elite rules if it became a regular thing, but we had established our own rules. Rules that both of us need in place to be comfortable. Last night I managed to break all of them.
So much of what happened last night, even long before my drunkcapades, was against our rules. It was personal. And it was everything but sexual.
I’m floored that he’s not only called but now I’m pulling up for our third rendezvous in one weekend. He made himself very clear as to what he wanted, and holding me while I cried about some damn nightmare until I fell asleep was not in his “expectation explanation”. Which is why I wasn’t surprised to find him gone this morning, and not appalled either. Relieved. Relieved that I didn’t have to do the whole wake-up mortified and apologize for my boundary crossing. I was sure my pride couldn’t take the inevitable look I was sure to see on his face.
The look that I’m hoping isn’t there as I exit the elevator and make my way to the room indicated in the text I received just minutes ago.
Before the echo settles from my knock against the door, it swings open, revealing a Stone I don’t recognize. A Stone that looks like he could eat me alive. He pulls me in, slamming the door behind us and grabbing my purse and throwing it to the floor.
“Are you ok—”
“Fuck the formalities.” He takes my mouth, rough and punishing, the concern I felt overcome by lustful submission almost instantly. He doesn’t even take us to the bed. Rather sits me atop the oblong desk against the wall just inside the door, removing my boots and throwing them to the floor.
One part of me wants to ask questions and one part of me wants to act just as crazed as he is. He pulls the sweater over my head, pulling the cups of my bra down and taking my exposed breasts into his mouth, one after the other as his hands squeeze brutally.
“Stone, don’t stop, but talk to me. Please,” I beg.
But he doesn’t answer, instead grabs my ass, pulling me from the desk and walking us to the bed.
“There’s nothing to say. I just need to have you.” He sucks and kisses his way from my jaw to my neck, between the valley of my breasts, across my stomach until reaching the waist of my leggings.
I lean up and reach for his jeans, unzipping to pull him free. I stroke the rock-hard length of him and he slides a hand inside my panties, two fingers spreading the lips of my sex to find me wet and waiting for him.
“Do you have anywhere to be?”
Confused, I shake my head in answer.
Grabbing my hips on either side he flips me over before I know what’s happening, ripping down my bottoms and thrusting into me. The force of him excruciating pleasure as my body welcomes him and I can’t breathe from the way it feels.
“Again,” I plead and he slaps my ass so hard my eyes water. “God. Again.”
He pulls out and slams in so hard the mattress frame slams into the wall. Already my vision blurs, my spine tingling almost as much as my ass when he slaps the other side. I fumble behind me, trying to grab his thighs and pull him into me again, needing to feel that same sensation over and over. But he grabs my wrists, pinning them behind my back with one firm grip, while the other grabs the pile of hair now fallen to my neck.
He pulls so hard the back of my head meets the skin of my back and I almost can’t breathe from the way my throat tightens at the force. I don’t care. I’d fucking suffocate before I ever let him stop.
I can see his eyes and he can see mine and all I can hope is that what I’m reading in them is true. Insanity creeps through my veins as he drives me out of my mind, the need so fucking palpable that it’s the only thing either of us could survive on in this moment.
He releases my arms and my hair, causing me to fall forward to the mattress, his body following, covering mine completely.
“It’s not enough,” he says in my ear. “I fucking want it all, goddess.” His hand snakes between us, fingers rubbing over my swollen clit and causing the storm to grow inside me. “Tonight, I need to own this.” He slams into me.
“Ah.” The sound screams from my mouth.
He slams into me again, the string twisting tighter and tighter inside me, pulling me higher.
“You do,” I say in a breath. He twists my face toward him, his lips barely touching mine.
“Then come on my dick and show me,” he says into my mouth, taking my lips with his as my orgasm breaks free of its restraints as he fills me with his own. He pulls from me and replaces his cock with two fingers, pulling them out just as quickly before invading my mouth with them.
“Suck,” he demands, and I do. “Taste how fucking good we are together?”
He rolls me to my back, hovering over me. He kisses me, tongue twisting with mine, punishing and leaving me as breathless as he ever has.
“I’ve craved the taste of you on my lips all fucking day, Lydia. And that’s not the last time I’ll have you.”