Flashes of Me (12 page)

He reaches under my skirt, cups my mons, and I moan, moving shamelessly against his hand. “You filled me, Henley.” He slides two thick fingers into me, stretching me open. “Yes.” I drop my purse, grab his shoulders, and undulate, forcing him in and out of me, taking what I want, what I need. “You rode me hard while hotel security watched us.”

“They’re watching us now, kitten,” Henley rumbles against my cheek. “They see my monstrous fingers savaging your pretty pink pussy. They’re listening to your moans, to your cries of passion, to the sucking noise of you clinging to me.”

“Feel how wet I am.” I grind against his hand. A hotel guest, a staff member could enter this hallway at any time, see Henley slide his fingers into me, my body pulling tight around him. “I need you so much.”

Henley mouths my neck, his lips firm and hot. “You have me.” He pumps my pussy, reaching deep inside me with his rough fingers, his form bent over mine, his muscles caging my curves. “You’ll always have me.”

“Yes,” I pant, matching his tempo, working with Henley for my satisfaction. “Take me here. Take me now.” He’s all I see, feel, taste, want. I curl my fingers around the back of his neck, holding onto him, his short hair soft against my skin.

Henley strips my control with each thrust of his hand. Desire coils around me, constricting my chest, making it harder and harder to breathe. My legs buckle and he lifts me, presses me against my hotel-room door.

I’m pinned between my behemoth and the hard door, as I was in my fantasy, dream and reality colliding, my passion compounding with each stroke. With Henley I don’t have to choose. I can have everything.

He swipes his thumb over my clit and I clench his fingers with my inner muscles, closing around him. “That’s it,” he murmurs against my neck. Sweat runs down my spine, drips between my ass cheeks. “Hold onto me with your tight little pussy.” He strokes in, strokes out, dangling me over the vortex of fulfillment and then pulling me back to safety.

The combination splinters me and I shake uncontrollably, clutching at him for support. “Henley.” My voice thins. I’m lost, unable to function.

“Come for me.” He slides his skin along my pussy, withdrawing his fingers. “Come now.” Henley thrusts hard, smacking the heel of his hand against my clit, breaking me. I open my mouth to scream and he covers my lips with his, swallowing the sound.

I come hard, my body bouncing between his muscular form and the door, the hallway swirling around us, the lights streaming together, the colors meshing. Henley is my constant, my only link to the present and to the truth, and I dig my fingernails into his nape, piercing his skin, marking him.

He extracts his fingers from my pussy and wraps his arms around me, holding me, comforting me. His deep voice murmurs into my ear. Although I can’t grasp his words, my brain scorched by my orgasm, my soul understands what he’s saying. He has me. He won’t ever let me go.

I breathe in his lemon-and-cedar cologne, savor the heat of his body, the strength in his form. The world around us slows and stills. I tilt back my head and gaze up at Henley. “That was better than my fantasy.” I smile.

His lips curl upward. “We should go inside.” He bends over, picks up my purse, hands it to me.

My fingers shake as I extract the plastic key and slide it into the lock. The light remains red. I try again, my movements jerky. The key doesn’t work.

Henley chuckles. “Let me try, kitten.” He takes the key from me and unlocks the door on his first try, the mechanism buzzing.

“You have a way with closed doors,” I tease as we enter the room. The space is unnervingly quiet and sterile, reminding me of the cancer ward at night. I kick off my shoes, toss my purse on the nearest nightstand, and pull the cream-colored duvet back, disheveling the matching sheets.

Henley places the key on the desk. “I’ll order dinner.” He doesn’t sit in the chair, choosing, instead, to loom over the hotel restaurant’s delivery menu.

“Remember the vegetables.” I perch on the foot of the king-size bed. Two mahogany-stained nightstands frame the matching wooden headboard behind me. An oil painting of a girl feeding ducks hangs on the wall. A large TV faces me. Cream and brown curtains hide the view of the parking lot. It isn’t a big room, and it seems even smaller with my behemoth here.

Henley orders enough food to feed an army. After he ends the call we stare at each other. I’m still euphoric from the hallway ravishing, my head floating and my legs trembling.

“Do you want to get comfortable?” My voice is husky.

Henley removes his jacket, hangs it in the open closet between my father’s rumpled shirt and my favorite pink suit. His jacket looks good there, as though it belongs. “You appear comfortable.” He unfastens his passcard and phone, sets both of these items by the hotel key.

“I could be more comfortable.” I unbuckle my cute white belt.

Henley removes his wallet and keys, places them with his other things. He releases the top button of his shirt.

“Wait,” I cry, and he stops, his big body tensing, his gaze meeting mine.

I bounce off the bed. “I want to unwrap you.” I slide my palms up his chest and Henley shudders. “You’re my present.” I tug on his shirt lapels and he bends over, lowering his face, giving me more access to his big form.

“You’re my big sexy gift.” I run my fingers over his cotton-covered pectoral muscles and down his delineated stomach, his shirt soft, hugging his body. “And all of this is for me.” I skim one fingertip over the ridge in his dress pants, tracing the outline of his hard cock. “I’m a lucky kitten.”

“You’re a naughty kitten,” Henley growls. “Don’t tease me.”

“Mmm . . .” I release two buttons on his dress shirt and spread the material, revealing tanned skin and silver scars. He has experienced such pain, my man, and he survived. I lick the marks in his skin and his muscles ripple against my palms.

“Teasing implies I won’t give you what you want.” I free more of his body, kiss his scars, taste salt and aroused man. “I’ll give you everything you want, Henley.” I undress him slowly, savoring every inch of him, licking and stroking and learning his form.

I undo the last button and push the shirt off his shoulders, admiring him. He’s all muscle and golden skin and silver scars, not an ounce of softness in his finely honed physique. “You’re magnificent.” I gaze up at him.

His eyes glitter. “Only you think so.”

“Only I matter.” I remove his belt and drop it to the carpet. “Everyone says I have impeccable taste.” I skim my fingers over the waistband of his pants. “If I say you’re magnificent, you’re magnificent.”

Henley flexes, the play of skin over muscle captivating me. “Does your father say you have impeccable taste?”

“No.” My voice softens, reality threatening to intrude on our encounter. “My father says there’s beauty in everything.” I summon a smile. “He hasn’t seen the artwork in Mr. Blaine’s office.”

Henley barks with laughter. “Even Mr. Blaine thinks his artwork is hideous.” The skin around his eyes crinkles. “Thank you.” He frames my face with his scarred palms. “For teaching me how to be happy again.”

“Thank you for not judging me because I want to be happy.” My smile wavers for a heartbeat and then strengthens. “And you’re about to become even happier.” I unzip his pants, tug the fabric over his hips, thighs, releasing his cock. “I believe it’s your turn.” I stroke his shaft with both of my hands, enjoying his size, his hardness.

“It’s always my turn.” Henley leans back, pushing his hips forward. “Touching you pleases me.”

“Touching you pleases me also.” I explore him, tracing his cock head with my fingertips, strumming his shaft, fondling his balls, and tugging gently on his black curls. Henley watches me, allowing me to play with his body.

“Do you want me to suck you?” I lick my bottom lip, hungry for a taste of him.

“Not tonight.” Henley shakes his head. “Remove your top, kitten.”

I reluctantly release his cock, unbutton my blazer, and drop the happy yellow garment near his black shirt. My nipples press against the silk of my bra, my need for Henley compounding. I reach for him.

“Remove your bra also,” he commands, his stern voice straightening my spine and curling my toes.

As I reach around my body to undo my bra, I watch his face. The silk falls to the floor, landing on the carpet without a sound, and Henley sucks in his breath, his jaw clenching.

“These are yours.” I cup my breasts with my hands, offering them to him.

“They
are
mine,” Henley affirms, his possessive words searing me, branding me. “And I’ll claim them tonight.” He grasps my waist and lifts me onto the bed, his fingers splayed, his muscles flexing. “Lie back.”

I recline on the bed, the duvet soft against me. “Should I remove my skirt?” I spread my legs, and the fabric pulls across my thighs.

“No.” The bed dips as Henley moves toward me. “Keep that barrier between us.” He straddles my waist, his body warm and his cock hard. “You have such beautiful breasts.” He caresses my sides and I tremble. “Responsive and real.” He covers my breasts with his hands and I arch, pushing into his rough palms.

“Play with them, Henley.” I clasp his thighs, holding onto him.

He kneads my breasts, squeezes my curves, and I squirm underneath him, trapped by his weight. His lips lift, his face softening, his expression filled with wonder. He pinches my nipples, the pain exquisite, and he pulls, twists, layering sensation until I’m writhing like a wild creature beneath him.

Henley focuses on me with his renowned intensity, his touching torturing both of us. With every tug, every roll of his fingers, his balls tighten and lift. A dab of pre-cum forms on his cock head. Beads of sweat dapple his forehead. He won’t last much longer.

“I need you between my breasts.” I press my curves together. “I want you to fuck them, to cover them with your cum.”

“Yes.” He inches forward and slides his cock between my breasts, his shaft hot. I close my pale skin around him, engulfing all but his tip.

“We fit together perfectly.” Henley’s murmur of appreciation fills me with pride. He rocks his hips, his cock grazing along my body, his balls swinging against me.

I watch him, enthralled by the power in his countenance, the roll of his shoulders, the bulge of his biceps. “I fantasized about this also.”

“Your fantasies fuel mine, kitten.” Henley increases his tempo, thrusting in and out, in and out. The bed skates along the floor, bumping against the wall.

Henley’s cock head appears and then disappears between my curves. I extend my tongue and lick his skin. He groans, his cock bobbing against me.

“You like that, huh?” I meet his gaze and lick him a second time. He makes a strangled noise and his rhythm becomes frantic.

I sweep my tongue over his tip again and again, tasting salt and his distinct essence. Henley grunts, his muscles straining and his breathing hastening. He fucks my breasts with a thrilling lack of control, his eyes wild, and I revel in his unabashed desire. This is truth. This is reality.

“Kitten?”

The biggest, strongest, most restrained man I’ve ever met is asking for my permission to come. I lift my chin. His power is mine to wield. His body and mind belong to me.

“Cover me, Henley.” I thrust my breasts upward, increasing the friction between us, multiplying the points of contact. “Give me everything.”

He drives forward, slamming the bed against the wall, and roars my name. Cum spurts out of his cock and washes over me with a liquid heat, cleansing my body and my soul. My behemoth pumps his hips once, twice more, and collapses, flattening me against the mattress.

I squeak, the air squeezed from my lungs. Henley rolls onto his back, taking me with him. I sprawl on top of his large form, my sticky breasts molded against his heaving chest. He cups my skirt-covered ass with his hands, holding me to him.

He doesn’t need to hold me. I’m not going anywhere. Henley nuzzles his chin into my curls and I sigh happily, spreading my fingers over more of his skin. I love being in his arms. I love it so much it scares me.

I close my eyes and listen to him breathe in and out, in and out, his lungs as strong as the rest of him. Henley is healthy and safe. I can let go of my fear . . . for tonight.

Chapter Ten

D
INNER IS DELIVERED.
Henley answers the door with a towel wrapped around his waist, and we eat on the bed. I strip off my skirt and wear the cream-colored terry-cloth robe the hotel supplies. There are two robes, but they’re sized for normal people, not behemoths. Henley eats in his towel, his chest bare, his legs stretched out.

I line up my legs next to his, my skin pale against his golden tan, and wiggle my bare toes. He leans over, balancing his plate of steak, mashed potatoes, and steamed vegetables in his hands. “You fixed your nail polish.”

“Yes.” I beam at Henley, thrilled he noticed. “I did it myself.” I wave at my collection of nail-polish bottles arranged by color on the far nightstand. “I can do your toes too if you want.” He raises his thick eyebrows. “I give my father pedicures, sometimes applying a clear polish.” I laugh. “Once, when he lost a bet with my uncle, I painted my father’s toenails bright pink. The executive team thought that was hilarious.”

“It
is
hilarious.” Henley smiles. “I can’t picture Mr. Blaine with bright pink toenails.”

“Mr. Blaine’s passion for bright pink nail polish might be a deep dark secret of his.” I push some of my vegetables onto Henley’s plate. “We all have our secrets.” I bounce off the bed and set my empty plate on the desk. “Tell me one of yours.” I return to Henley’s side, cuddle into his body, savoring his warmth.

“What would you like to know?” He pops a chunk of steak into his mouth and chews.

My high-security man is giving me total access to his past. I tilt my head and ponder what question to ask him, what a lover should know. “Do you have another name? Will your wife be Mr. Henley or will she have a different last name?”

He puts his left arm around me. “My wife can use any last name she wishes.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek. “You wouldn’t mind if she chose a completely different last name?” I stare at our feet. “Wouldn’t that be like lying?”