Authors: Deborah Bladon
New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author
First Original Edition, October 2014
Copyright © 2014 by Deborah Bladon
Cover Design by Wolf & Eagle Media
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and situations either are the product of the author's imagination or are used factiously.
All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without written consent from the author.
"I keep a room at a hotel in mid-town. We can go there."
The words are decisive and seductive. The subtle hum of his voice catering to the need that is inside of me. The same need that drove me away from Boston and back into the uneven clutches of Manhattan.
I glance at my watch. Fifty-nine minutes. It's been fifty-nine minutes since he sat next to me on this flight. Thirty-one minutes since he told me he's always been attracted to brunettes. Twenty-five minutes since I knew that having his cock inside of me would chase away all the deepest memories of the man I left behind.
"I have a driver meeting me." The assumption is there. He's moved effortlessly from asking if I'm interested to expecting it. He knows how utterly attractive he is. The eager glances of the flight attendant who tried to divert his attention from me spoke of the pull that is there within him, whether he's consciously sending out signals or not.
I nod. It's not unlike me. He's not the first man I've slept with within moments of meeting. It's always filled a temporary hunger. This time is different though. This time I'm doing it to numb the ache.
"I'm Ben, by the way." He extends his hand in a graceful, yet misplaced, greeting.
I reach for it, entrusting my own in his. "I'm Kayla."
"Pretty," he says.
I take the compliment along with the gentle touch. He won't be like this in bed. I can sense it already. There's a darkness behind his eyes that promises skill, pleasure and a bite of flashing pain. It's everything I need all wrapped into a six foot four inch, muscular, brown haired, brown eyed stranger.
"Is anyone expecting you?"
My eyes flit across his face pulling nothing from his stoic expression. He's asking if there's a complication waiting for me when the plane touches down at LaGuardia. There's nothing waiting for me here. No one knows that I've run from my life in Boston. I haven't told a soul that the man I loved left me beneath the shadow of an excuse about chasing his own happiness. He'd changed overnight. The once beautiful, confident soul that held me in his arms and promised me a lifetime has been replaced with a cold, distant selfish asshole.
"No," I whisper the word as if that will lessen the pain that is attached to it. "There's no one."
"I need to make a few calls once we land." His hand dives into an inner pocket of his Armani suit to retrieve his smart phone. "I'll do that while you grab your luggage."
I pull my hands over the smooth denim of my worn jeans. I look ordinary next to him. I'll disappear into the crowds of the airport the moment we depart from the plane. He'll command the attention of many. He wants that. It's part of who he is.
"I don't have any checked bags," I begin before I realize the words sound comfortable and intimate in a way that I don't want them to. "I'll wait outside for you."
He flashes a grin. "You won't run away on me?"
I'm not Parker. Parker, my piece of shit boyfriend, ran away on me. He told me he loved me. He promised me forever and then he ran away.
"I promise I won't." I exhale. "I'll be right there waiting for you."
"Your cunt is as beautiful as the rest of you." His breath whispers over my folds before his tongue pierces into me again.
I lean back into the coarse linens that line the bed, throwing my head back. "Make me come again."
He laps at me, his fingers probing my inner walls before he hones in on the spot that he knows will throw me into the middle of another powerful orgasm. My hands reach for his hair. I wind my fingers into the strands, reveling in the softness. I twist his head sharply to the left coaxing his tongue back to my clit. I'm not going to be shy. There's no reason not to take everything I can from this. He's eager to please. I'm eager to come.
"Christ, you're a tight one."
The words only spur me on more. This is exactly what I need. "Lick my clit," I bite out through a moan. "Lick my fucking clit."
He cups his hands beneath my legs pulling them farther apart before they seek out my breasts. He pinches both nipples in unison as his tongue greedily steals another climax from me.
I scream, not only from the intense pleasure that is racing through each part of me, but for the freedom to feel this deeply. I cling to his hair as he moans into me, lapping greedily at my lust.
"I'm so hard. I have to fuck you." The words aren't tempered. They escape him in a growl that is primitive and speaks of his need to own my body.
I watch as he sheaths his thick cock in a condom, his hand racing over the length not once, but twice. I whimper knowing that it's going to throw me back into an orgasm quickly. I've been imagining it since he lowered himself into the seat next to me on the airplane. I've been thinking about how it will feel since I watched him slowly undress when we got to the room. I've been craving it since his erection brushed against my pussy before he lowered his face to my core.
His mouth covers mine as he skirts the tip over my clit. His lips are smooth, soft and gentle. His tongue glides onto mine as he thrusts his cock into me in one fluid, lust filled violent movement. His rhythm is smooth, confident and controlled.
"Yes," I mutter beneath my breath and into his mouth because my body offers no other choice. I need to express it. I need to feel it.
His hands leap to mine, pushing them into the mattress. "Your cunt is so ready."
My body responds and I'm driven over the edge into an orgasm that grips both of us.
"Fuck, Kayla." His words fall into the air between us. "Kayla, yes."
I arch my back, clench my muscles and sigh as he pumps himself into me over and over, each thrust deeper than the last until he finds his release with my name pouring from his lips.
"Get on your knees."
I stop. The hot water beating a path down my breasts before it skims over my stomach. I'd slept for hours after he left. He told me the room was mine until noon when the housekeeping staff would arrive. I needed the time. I needed the space and the empty air to think. I'd woken shortly after ten, my body aching from last night. The shower was my last reprieve before I had to face the world, my best friend, and the truth about what had chased me out of Boston.
"You came back." The words are foolish and unnecessary.
"On your knees, Kayla." He says against my shoulder before his lips blaze a path up my neck. "You're going to suck my cock."
My sex aches at the demand. It was my only regret as he walked out the door. "Yes," I whisper as his lips graze over mine.
"I've thought about your beautiful mouth since I fucked you last night."
I move closer to him feeling the unmistakable brush of his cock against my stomach. He reaches for my hand, a gesture that speaks of well-mannered courtesy as I lower myself to my knees.
"I've never seen eyes as blue as yours." His hand slides over my chin. "Look at me when you suck it."
I nod as I grab the thick root with my hand. My lips open slightly kissing the very tip. The head is wide, spongy and gorgeous. I pull my tongue down the length, feeling the vein that is pulsing beneath my touch.
"Take it now. Suck it hard." The words have a firm bite to them. "Look at me, Kayla."
My eyes lock on his as I take his cock into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the tip. I murmur around his flesh as I find my rhythm.
"Goddamn, you know how to suck cock." The words are heavy with desire. "I'm going to fuck your mouth so hard."
The promise is only tempered by the space. He leans back slightly, resting his back against the subway tile that surrounds the bathtub. His hands tangle within the long strands of my dark hair. I murmur slightly at the slight rush of pain when he pulls on it.
"Like that, Kayla," he hisses into the rushing stream of water that is bearing down on my side. "Suck it hard."
I up the tempo, my hand racing seamlessly up and down the length while my head bobs in unison pulling him deeper with each thrust of his hips. He's fucking my mouth hard, the sounds escaping his lips pulling even more desire from me.
"Fuck. Oh fuck. Suck it like that." Each of the words falls into the other between low groans. "Christ, Kayla. I'm going to come."
I pull back slightly as he rams his ass into the tiles trying to dislodge his cock from my mouth. I hold steady, my fists still wrapped tightly around it. I gaze up at him, staring directly into his eyes.
"I'm coming," he hisses loudly. "Coming."
I lick my lips as the first stream hits them. I hold him steady capturing every drop on my tongue and my lips.
"Holy fuck." His eyes bore into me watching every movement I make. "Jesus."
"Are you from New York or Boston?" His voice is tranquil now. He's come down from the edge. He's dressed in a different suit than last night. This one is navy blue. The white dress shirt he's wearing unbuttoned enough to show a hint of the smooth skin of his chest.
I debate before I answer. "I'm from Boston," I offer in a low tone.
"You're just visiting here?" He reaches towards the floor. His hand elegantly pulling at the edge of the scarf that I'd dropped when I'd undressed last night.
I take it from him with a slight nod of my head. "I'm moving back here."
"You've lived here before?"
I stare at him unsure of whether he's making small talk to avoid the uncomfortable silence that drifts between two strangers after they've shared an exchange that intimate. "I did, briefly," I whisper into the scarf that I've now pulled around my neck.
His eyes drop from my face to the floor. "I grew up in Boston. I like New York more."
I hate Boston. "I do too, "I say slowly. I will like it more. I have to. I don't want to go back there.
"I'm driving today." His hand dips into the pocket of his pants. I hear the clink of keys as he shuffles them within his palm. "Is there somewhere I can drop you?"
I study his face. The curve of his brow and the strength in his jawline is familiar. I've seen his face before. "Have we met before?"
His brown eyes meet mine. "I would remember meeting you."
"You're sure?" I push back wanting to make the connection. I'd fucked a few boys in college but he's older than me. There's no way he's twenty-three-years-old too. The way he carries himself is different. His clothing suggests he's wealthier than someone who would normally stay in a room like this. The realization of that stings a touch. I instantly wonder if he brings all the women he fucks here or if there's another, more comfortable, place for those he deems worthy.
"We haven't met." His eyes avoid mine. "I have to get to work."
The natural reaction would be to ask where that is. I should want to know how he fills his days and what those perfectly manicured hands do that affords him the expensive watch around his wrist and the silver cufflinks that pop in to view every now and again beneath the cuff of his jacket.
I shuffle slightly on my feet, pulling on the hem of the blue sweater I'm wearing. I should thank him. How do I do that? Do I tell him that I appreciate the orgasms? Do I applaud him for gifting me with the talents of his tongue? "Thank you for letting me stay here last night."
"Kayla?" My name falls from his lips in a low rasp. "You have somewhere to go, don't you?"
"Yes." I have a place I can go to. I don't belong anywhere right now.
"You're sure?" Concern blankets over his expression. "You can stay here for a few days if you need to."
Pity. It's there in his eyes. I see it. "I'm sure," I lie. It's not a complete lie. My best friend will take me in. She'll hold me while I cry over Parker's rejection. She'll make me laugh with stories of the moments in college when life felt easy and the future seemed uncomplicated.
"Last night was fun." He stands in place, his back to the door. "I'm glad we met."
I'm glad we fucked.
Those are the words I'm tempted to say. I am glad he took my body and mind to a place where nothing but pleasure mattered for a few moments. I'm grateful that I didn't have to immediately face my life again. The pain that had been biting at my chest since Parker left me is dulled now. I don't want that to be temporary. I want today to be the first day when I don't feel suffocated with sadness.
"I need to go to the …" he stops himself. The details of his life outside the walls of this room don't matter. He knows they don't.
I nod, fishing in my purse for my smartphone. I'm not good at this part. I don't know what to say as we walk away into the world again. Our brief encounter will become a fond memory in weeks and the details will be so muddled in a year that I'll struggle to recall his face. I glance at him again. No, wait. I won't forget that face. He's as handsome as any man you'd see layered in a beautiful suit on the pages of a magazine. His hair is cut short, but it's still long enough that a woman's yearning fingers can get lost in it. His jaw is sharp and bold, yet there's a tenderness woven into his smile that is disarming.
He steps towards me, his hand leaping to cup my cheek. His eyes catch mine in a warm gaze. "You're amazing, Kayla. Truly. Amazing."
My lips part slightly as if I'm going to say something back but the words don't come. I just stare at him wanting to soak in every detail.
He leans down and slides his lips over mine in a tender kiss. "I'll never forget you," he whispers against my lips.
"I'll never forget you," I repeat back into his beautiful mouth. I won't. This is a man no woman could ever forget.