Wild Open (18 page)

The first time was fast and rough. He bent her over the mattress, yanked her skirt up around her waist, and entered her in one deep thrust. She moaned aloud at the feeling of him inside of her, the thick hot press of his cock, and when he started moving, the friction was better than she remembered, better than she ever thought sex could be. He thrust into her fast and deep, and she came after only a few strokes, too worked up from the endless days of waiting to hold out any longer.

“Shit, Leah,” he said, and stopped moving.

“No, keep going,” she said, gasping, still shuddering through the last of her orgasm.

“I can’t,” he said tightly. “I’m going to lose it.”

“Why not?” she asked. “I already did.”

“Pride,” he said, and started moving again, very slowly, but even so it wasn’t very long before he groaned and went still above her.

He pulled out and staggered into the bathroom to dispose of the condom. Leah turned onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, feeling sated and very happy. O’Connor came back out a minute later, having finally shed all of his clothing, and Leah blatantly ogled him as he walked toward her. She’d seen him shirtless many times, but a fully naked man was a special treat, and O’Connor more so than most. He was lean and muscular, not too hairy, and she spent a few long seconds admiring the way his waist tapered down to his narrow hips. She was already game for round two.

“I see that look,” he said. “You need to give me at least fifteen minutes. I’m not a young man anymore.”

“You’re twenty-four,” Leah said. “That still counts as young.”

“Okay, ten minutes,” he said. He stood over her, one hand on his hip. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

He “helped” her undress, which involved more groping than Leah thought was strictly necessary, but she enjoyed every second of it. When he had stripped her out of her skirt and T-shirt and bra, he settled her on the mattress and lay down beside her, propped on one elbow so that his right hand was free to explore her breasts and belly.

“Good Lord,” he said. “It’s even nicer than I thought.”

She laughed, pleased and flattered. “You’ve already had your hands all over it.”

“Seeing is different than touching,” he said. “Mmm. We’re going to have a good night. Do you always come that fast?”

“No,” she said, blushing. “I was a little—I guess I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”

“You and me both.” He bent to kiss her shoulders and neck, and she closed her eyes and sighed happily, one hand in his hair, enjoying the feeling of his mouth on her skin, and of being utterly relaxed.

She didn’t stay relaxed for long. He moved lower and began kissing her breasts and sucking on her nipples, and soon she was squirming beneath him and tugging at his hair and saying, “O’Connor, O’Connor, come on.”

The second time was slower than the first, but just as toe-curling. O’Connor kissed his way down her body, focusing his mouth on places that she had never considered as erogenous zones: the skin just above her navel, the shallow point of her hip. She was quivering continuously by the time he ran his hands up her thighs and spread her open.

He spent a while just looking at her, and touching her gently with the very tips of his fingers, curious and a little scientific, detached. She felt like a bug on a pin, splayed open there for him to investigate; but when she tried to squirm away he held her hips against the mattress and wouldn’t let her bring her knees together again. “I’m looking,” he said.

“Haven’t you seen one before?” she asked, a little annoyed that he wouldn’t just get on with it already.

“Sure,” he said. “But I haven’t seen yours.”

Men. Leah was tempted to kick him out of the way and take matters into her own hands, both figuratively and literally, but then he finally—oh—bent his head and put his mouth on her.

But still he wasn’t done tormenting her. He moved his lips and tongue in slow, exploratory gestures that didn’t seem designed to give her pleasure. He was doing what he wanted, tasting her, opening her with his tongue, and any enjoyment she got out of it was purely incidental. His mouth was slick and hot and almost where she needed it, almost, always a bare inch away, and no matter how much she tilted her hips and tried to shift beneath him, she couldn’t get him there.

When at last he slid two fingers inside her, she cried out and arched her back, so sensitive from his endless teasing that the touch was almost more than she could bear.

“Noisy,” he murmured, and with a last kiss to her hip pulled away and sat back on his heels, gazing down at her, his fingers working inside of her. “I like it. These walls are pretty thick. Make as much noise as you want.”

“Thanks for the permission,” Leah said, hearing her own voice as a stranger’s, ragged and breathless.

He didn’t reply, but he slid his fingers out of her, and she reached for him in mute protest. He said her name, his voice rich with fond affection, and then he lay down on top of her, gathering her in his arms and holding her close. She felt his hard cock against her belly, thick and hot, but he only held her and kissed her face and neck, murmuring things she couldn’t quite hear.

“O’Connor,” she said. She stroked her hands down his back to the firm, delicious curve of his ass. Her pulse throbbed between her legs; she was an aching hollow, hungry for him.

He pushed up onto his elbows and met her eyes. His were dark with lust. He blew out a long breath and said, “Okay. Fuck. Leah, I’m about ten seconds away from losing it and I’m not even inside you yet.”

She smiled at him. “But we both have poor stamina, so it’s okay.”

“Poor stamina?” He laughed. “Those are fighting words, woman.”

“Well,” she said, and wriggled her hips, thrusting up against him. “Consider it a challenge?”

He laughed again. “Okay. Gauntlet thrown.”

He rolled her onto her side and lay down behind her, spooning her with their hips nestled close together. She heard the crinkling sound of a condom wrapper, and then he slid one hand between her legs, lifting her top thigh to make room, and the round blunt head of his cock pressed against her. She drew in a breath. Held it. He pushed inside.

She was conscious, this time, of the way her body made room for him as he slid inside, taking in every last inch of him until his hips were pressed firmly against her ass.

“Ah, Leah,” he groaned. “You feel so fucking good.”

She did feel good; he made her feel incredible. She knew that wasn’t what he meant, but it was all she could think about—how sexy and sensual and joyful she felt, and how her body responded to his like they were made for each other, shaped out of raw clay for this exact purpose. She arched her back to take him deeper, and he groaned again, his hand clamping tight on her hip.

They moved together, slow and sultry, in a rhythm ancient as the earth. O’Connor kissed the back of her neck and slid his hand from her hip up to her breasts, cupping and squeezing, tracing the outline of her nipples with his callused thumb. The pace was slow enough and sweet enough that she could have gone all night like that, washed in waves of pleasure, but never quite enough to send her over the edge.

And that was exactly what O’Connor was trying to do: he wanted to show her that he was a real man who could fuck all night, and he was going at a snail’s pace so that he didn’t come too quickly.

She laughed aloud when she realized what he was doing, and he pinched the skin along her ribs and said, “What’s funny?”

“You,” she said, and seized his wrist and dragged it between her thighs.

He didn’t need any directions; he knew exactly what to do, and he actually did it, without playing dumb or making her wait. He stroked her in time with his thrusts, a steadily rising rhythm, and when she rolled her hips backward against him, trying to speed up the pace, he went faster still.

Leah squeezed her eyes shut and bit down on her lower lip. She was starting to get that feeling, that good, taut, curling feeling that came right before a shattering orgasm.

“Christ, listen to you,” O’Connor muttered, and Leah realized that she was moaning with every thrust. “How did you stay quiet on the bus?”

Why was he talking? She didn’t care what he was saying, and she definitely wasn’t going to respond. She rocked her hips forward against his hand and backward onto his cock, her body tensing, tightening, arching against him, almost there, and then she tipped over into pulsing, reckless pleasure.

O’Connor was saying something, but the roaring in her ears was too loud to make out his words. When he rolled her onto her belly she went without resistance, too limp to do anything but lie on the mattress and try to catch her breath.

“Sweetheart,” O’Connor was saying, “Leah, you’re fucking beautiful, you’re—”

She turned her face into the sheets to hide her smile.

His thrusts went ragged, rhythmless. His hands were planted on the bed beside her face, and Leah reached up and slid her palm over the back of one of his hands, stroking his knuckles. “Ah, Christ,” he said, and she felt his lips against her hair, and then he thrust deeply once more and went still.

They disentangled themselves, sweaty, a little shaky, and lay side by side on the mattress, gazing at each other and grinning like fools. O’Connor stroked Leah’s hair out of her face and then leaned in and kissed her, the sweetest kiss she’d ever had. And part of her wanted to stay there for the rest of her life, the two of them in this little bubble of a hotel room, but another part of her was noticing how sticky she felt.

She stretched her arms above her head, her toes pointed, and heard something crack in her back. “That was okay, I guess.”

He smacked her hip. “Unbelievable. Already shit-talking me.”

“I can’t let you get too cocky,” she said, smiling at him. “Otherwise you’ll get lazy.”

“I’m starving,” he said, apparently deciding to ignore her attempts to yank his chain. “You wore me out. Let’s get room service. You already ate dinner, right? Do you want anything else?”

“Maybe a little snack,” she said. “Some fruit or something.”

He called in the order. Leah went into the bathroom to pee and rinse off in the shower, and then spent a few minutes snooping through O’Connor’s Dopp kit. She was hoping to find some sort of fodder for eternal mockery—expensive eye cream or something—but he didn’t have anything beyond the standard dude arsenal: toothpaste, deodorant, two-in-one shampoo and conditioner. Boring.

She heard a knock at the door, and O’Connor speaking to someone, and she waited in the bathroom until she heard the door close again; and then she went out to see what sort of spread he had ordered.

“I got you a cheese plate,” he said. He had wrapped himself in one of the hotel’s fluffy white bathrobes, which should have looked ridiculous, but somehow he was pulling it off. “And a bottle of champagne.”

“And a steak,” Leah said, watching as he removed the covers from the plates. “O’Connor! Really?”

He grinned. “I’m a rock star, baby. I can order steak from room service whenever I want.”

They ate on the bed, reclining in a nest of pillows, and when they were finished they curled up together and O’Connor turned on the television. He flipped through the channels until he came to an old espionage film that Leah liked, and she said, “Here! No, go back. That. Let’s watch this.”

They watched in silence for a few minutes. Leah idly ran her fingers along O’Connor’s ridged abs. “When on earth do you have time to work out?”

He laughed. “I don’t. I don’t work out much on tour. I just hit the gym extra hard when I’m at home.”

“Well, I approve of your vanity,” she said. “You look good.”

He flexed his free arm, and she laughed.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, after a few more quiet minutes. “I’m glad we broke our promises to Rushani and James. I’m glad we didn’t keep things professional.”

She tilted her head up to look at him. He was gazing down at her, a soft light in his eyes that thrilled and terrified her. “Me too,” she said.

“I worry about Andrew every minute of every day. Being with you reminds me that there’s more to life than worrying.”

He bent to kiss her forehead, and Leah clung to him, unable to believe her good fortune, and feeling incredibly lucky to be there, in that moment, curled close against his warm body, safe and cared for. She had never been happier.

His hand on her shoulder moved lower and skimmed over her breast. She thought the touch was accidental until he thumbed her nipple and then pinched it gently between two fingers. “Again?” she asked, laughing.

“You know what they say,” he said, and rolled her onto her back. “Third time’s the charm.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

When he woke up the next morning, Leah was gone; but she had left a note for him on the side table:
Snuck out early so no one would catch me. I can’t wait for our next hotel night! xoxo

He flopped back on the mattress, grinning. Christ,
Leah
. Hellion, succubus. What a night they’d had together. He didn’t know how he was going to survive until the next hotel night, which was—shit—in
three days
. An eternity. He had sort of hoped that sleeping with her would—well. Not
cure
him. But certainly get it out of his system. But now that he’d actually been with her, he knew there was no way in hell that once would be enough.