I’m still arching my hips in the rhythm of the dream, thrusting up and down a little, my lips parting with a faint moan, when I realize that it was just a dream.
Just a dream, that hot tub and that public space. Just a dream, that sexy as hell naked man pinning me up against the side to fuck me until I screamed. Just a dream…
So whose hands are those parting my thighs right now? And whose mouth is that kissing up my inner thigh, an inch at a time?
My eyelids flutter, as I take in the unfamiliar setting around me. Hotel room, I remember. I tilt my head to one side to squint at the wide open blinds and the dim dawn light filtering in through them. Oh right. I meant to close those last night.
Why didn’t I?
The mouth between my legs slides higher, and I gasp, remembering everything in a rush.
The divorce papers. The number in the bathroom stall. The phone call. Letting Angel in last night. And then letting Angel into me.
I glance down, just as he raises up the covers of the bed to peer up from under them at me. He’s spread out at my feet, his hands on my thighs, parting them, as his lips kiss their way up from my ankles to my knees. He’s paused there to grin, eying me.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he says, in that deep, sexy baritone voice of his. The one that was so sexy and commanding last night.
I lick my lips and hesitate. But only for a second. “Good morning.”
He leans down and kisses his way higher. His lips reach my inner thighs. Higher, higher… His mouth brushes the side of my hips, and his tongue flicks down along the crease where my hips meet my leg. First one side, then the other, slow and steady. “I hope you slept well,” he whispers, and his breath makes my skin go hot wherever his tongue has touched.
“Well enough,” I reply, my head still racing to catch up to what my body already knows.
It was all real. Last night really happened. And he’s really still here. My sexy one-night stand. The best fuck I’ve ever had in my life, probably.
“It sounded like you were having good dreams,” he replies, and something in his voice makes me glance back at him sharply, aware that he’s grinning at me. He shrugs one shoulder, unapologetic. “You called my name a lot in your sleep,” he says.
My cheeks go bright red, my whole face burning with embarrassment. “Um… I meant someone else,” I reply. At his smirk, I force myself to glare at him, eyes narrowed. “Anyway, that’s probably not even really your name, is it? Angel?”
He pauses again, and there it is. That same flicker of distaste or annoyance or… something, that I saw last night, when he told me to call him Sir instead. For some reason, the name Angel bothers him. But I don’t know why it would. After all, he’s the one who wrote it all over the bathroom stall.
Before I can press the issue or ask anything else, though, he’s kissing me again. This time he presses his lips right against my mound, and his tongue flickers down to trace the outer edges of my pussy lips, one after the next. I moan a little, softly.
I can tell that I’m swollen. Probably red, from the fucking last night. It’s an ache that tells me he gave me exactly what I wanted. Walking will be tricky today.
“You’re right. It is not my name,” he finally admits, quietly, long after I’d given up hope of a response.
I tilt my head at him, curious, waiting for more. But he doesn’t add anything else. He just drags his tongue along me again, one lip after the next, before he carefully parts them, slowly and delicately, as though he knows I’m sensitive and sore today.
His tongue laps along me in slow, careful strokes, and before long, my heart is racing. I can tell I was already wet and excited, thanks to all the dirty dreams I’d been having, probably all night, courtesy of this man. I arch my hips, and he slides a hand beneath me to grip my ass, pulling my pussy up and against his face.
I let my legs fall to each side of him, savoring the trace of his stubble against my inner thighs as he presses his face closer to me. “Right there,” I hear myself whispering, unsteady at first. “Lick me right there, again, again…” I get bolder as he does just what I say, over and over.
He pushes my legs apart further, and then, without warning, he plunges his tongue into me, curling it to drag along my inner wall. A moan escapes me, and I buck up against his face. He smiles, eyes flashing where they catch mine. “That’s it, dirty girl,” he says, pausing to speak, withdrawing just far enough that his breath ghosts a hot trail against my skin as he does. “Tell me right where you want me.”
“Inside me,” I pant, my hands sliding down into the sheets on either side of us to make fists.
He pushes his tongue back into me, and I moan again, yet another spike of pleasure hitting me. But I shake my head, too.
“You,” I pant. “Your cock. I want your cock inside me again.”
He pulls back with another sly grin of his, assessing me, taking his time, as he sits up and reaches for the nightstand beside us. I catch a glimpse of his wallet and phone there, and watch as he pulls a condom out of his wallet. If I’m honest, I’m hoping for a peek of an ID card, some sort of way to identify him. Some hint as to what his name really is, if not Angel.
But he closes the wallet the second he has what he needs from it, and I don’t want to pry. His business is his own. If he doesn’t want me to know who he really is, then I won’t.
“You really are insatiable, you know that?” he asks, smirking, as he sheathes his cock again, unrolling the condom down his hard length.
I keep my gaze fixed on his hard, glorious length the whole time. The moment he’s done putting on the condom, I reach down to grasp his cock with both hands and trace the length of him slowly, from base to tip and back again. He groans a little, and I tighten my grip, enjoying the way his head falls back and the veins along his neck stand out as he grits his teeth in pleasure.
“Can you blame me?” I reply, grinning right back at him. “You just fucked me the way no one else has. Of course I want more.”
His smile widens. “Was it that good for you?” He leans down to cup my chin and tilts my face toward his, even as I keep my hands fisted around his cock. “Good,” he murmurs, right before kissing me again, deeper this time, slower. My tongue tangles with his, and my heart speeds up, my breath catching, until he withdraws again, just far enough to catch my eye and smile down at me. “Because it was for me too.”
With that, he spreads my legs and plunges into me again, and I cry out at the sudden force of it. My pussy is already sore, and now it throbs with the sensation of stretching to accommodate him again, feeling his thick cock buried deep inside me, filling me, every inch stuffed. He pauses there, buried in me, and kisses me again, slowly, his tongue tracing mine before he breaks away to kiss down the edge of my jaw, pausing to suck and nip at the spot under my ear, and then to kiss the edge of my neck softly. I wrap my arms around him, my hands tangled in his hair, savoring the feeling of his warm body pressed against the length of mine.
I raise my legs on either side of him and wrap my legs around his waist. He smiles and arches his hips, leaning back to eye me as he slowly, slowly, draws himself out of me, and then thrusts in again, all at once.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispers, but I’m already shaking my head.
“More,” I gasp.
It’s not like the first time. This time, he goes slow and steady the whole time. So slow, in fact, that at some points I find myself gripping his ass, my nails digging into his skin, dragging him against me, my hips arched up under him to try and pull him deeper, harder, faster. But any time he does speed up, there’s a deep throb inside me, my pussy aching from last night still, and he seems to sense that, reading my body even better than I do.
He slows again, and the pleasure starts to build in me, slow and steady.
“Relax, Naomi,” he whispers against my lips. “Enjoy it.”