“Thanks, handsome. Now take me to your lair and fuck me.”
I grab her hand, kiss it, and then lead her to my building.
By the time we get across the threshold of my penthouse, she’s all over me and has my pants half undone and my shirt completely unbuttoned, and the minute my door is shut, I’ve lifted her up in my arms.
It’s on.
I move through the space, mouth attached to hers, until her back is on my mattress. Her dress is then pulled over her head and the cups of her bra are yanked down so I can feast on the most perfect set of natural tits my eyes have ever seen.
“Lemme get mah shoes off,” she slurs.
“No fucking way,” I deny, back up on my knees, taking those silky panties down as I go, and then they’re off and my face is buried between those creamy thighs.
“Ah!” she cries out as I bury my tongue in her, then apply suction over her clit. She’s wet, hot, and delicious. She shudders. I take her sweet ass into my palms and do it again.
“Fuck,” she calls out.
“Say my name, Tina.”
“Christina,” she corrects with a whimper.
I lift my head and meet her eyes.
“Call me Christina like you did before.” There’s vulnerability in her eyes and fuck, but I like it.
I smile, then swirl my tongue around her clit as I reach under the mattress for my condom stash. “Open your legs wider, Christina, and say my name when you come.”
I keep at her and she rocks into my face. I get the condom on while I lick, nip, and suck and then thrust two fingers into her tight heat.
“Hunter!” she cries out.
“Christina,” I growl and then I move up her sweet little body and slam my rock-hard cock in deep.
“Oh my. I knew you’d have a big dick,” she says, glassy-eyed with a big smile on her face.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” she groans, threading her fingers into my hair and pulling my face close. She kisses me. She kisses me while crying out into my mouth as I slam into her over and over.
She feels like heaven. And I knew she’d have a sweet, tight pussy, but I don’t tell her that. Instead, I fuck that tight pussy repeatedly for the next two hours, worshipping every inch of her body before we both pass out.
Christina
It’s morning and I’m in bed with Hunter Collins. Naked Hunter Collins. He’s on his belly, his leg thrown over mine, one hand on my boob. I carefully roll away and get up wearing nothing but stilettos. I sneak toward what looks like the washroom, grabbing my dress, strapless bra, and panties from the carpet. I get to the bathroom mirror and see I’m wearing more than stilettos. I’m also wearing a giant hickey on my neck. Oh my God. The hickey is shaped almost totally like a maple leaf. Crazy.
Shit. I stare in the mirror. My hair is everywhere. I have raccoon eyes. My lips are swollen.
I don’t do stuff like this.
Ever.
Letting a guy take me home from the bar? Letting Hunter Collins, the rich and arrogant stalker guy take me home?
To say he has a playboy reputation is a gross understatement. To say he’s a pompous and arrogant rich guy is even grosser.
I’m not even gonna think about the fact that it was the best sex of my life. Much. Okay, I will. Probably for the rest of my life since this was a one-off and I won’t likely ever have a night like that again.
I get dressed, but take off my shoes so I can silently tiptoe out of his apartment. I have no idea where I am, but I’m sure I can find a way home. Find a payphone and maybe call April collect. Or a doorman who can call me a cab.
Shit. I hope April took my purse home from the bar.
I resist the urge to snoop in his medicine cabinet or his vanity drawers for some face wash. Hand soap will have to do for cleaning last night’s makeup off.
I swish with a glug of mouthwash that’s on the counter, get dressed and finger comb my just-fucked hairdo into something not much better. Not that it matters as I’m about to do the walk of shame dressed like a skank with a big ole patriotic-looking hickey on my neck.
I step out of the bathroom and see his sleepy, sexy eyes aimed at me. He opens his arms.
God, that bare, muscled, tanned chest is magnificent.
I moisten my lips.
“Come here, you,” he orders gruffly.
I just stand there.
“Are you blushing?” he asks. “That makes you even sexier.”
“Hunter,” I say. “Last night…”
“Was the best sex of my life. Get over here.”
God, it’s tempting. It’s tempting to go for another round before I go back to reality.
But it’d be wrong.
“You’re totally full of shit, but thank you for saying that.”
His eyes flash with confusion.
I keep talking. “Last night was great. I was in a major funk.”
“But?”
“But you’re not my type. I’m sure I’m not yours. And—”
He throws the sheets back and erases the space between us. “You’re not the type of girl I’d have dated in the past and I told you, you’re the type of girl I want a future with. And let’s start that off right. By letting me fuck you again before I make you the best Spanish omelet you’ve ever tasted. I’ll even cook it with love.”
He ducks and I go over his shoulder with a squeal.
Holy crap.
What’s another hour in fantasyland? Guess I’ll deal with reality later.
Three bites into my Spanish omelet, yes, the best Spanish omelet I’ve ever eaten, his phone rings. He gives me apologetic eyes. “Work,” he mouths before going out to the balcony to answer it.
I fork up another bite of eggs, tomatoes, peppers, and cheese and that’s when reality decides to come crashing in. Literally.
His apartment door swings open. A gorgeous redhead dressed head-to-toe in designer clothes swans in, keys in hand, and drops three shopping bags and her handbag on the floor, then levels me with a dark gaze.
“Who the fuck are you?” she asks.
I glance over my shoulder.
Hunter hasn’t noticed her.
“I…”
“Don’t belong here.” She flashes her finger at me. Her finger that’s covered by a giant diamond ring.
“Get out,” she snaps, staring at him out on the balcony, looking at the back of him like she wants him dead.
I drop my fork, wipe my mouth, and reach for my purse. It was here after all, dropped by the door last night.
Without looking back, I leave.
I shakily order an Uber in the elevator, phone at 3% power, and mercifully have less than a minute to wait for it.
As I shut the car door, I see Hunter running out of the lobby of the building in nothing but the grey sweatpants he had on when he cooked me breakfast. He looks around frantically, not seeing me behind the tinted glass as my Uber pulls away from the curb.
“Is that him again?” April asks, watching me stare at my ringing phone which sits a cushion away from me on the couch.
I ignore her.
“Answer it.”
I shake my head.
“I’ll answer it.” She tries to nab it.
I throw my body on it so she can’t get it. We get into a mini wrestling match and I win.