He once again leaned his forehead against hers and now his breath was nearly heaving in harmony with hers. He was fighting for control and he took several minutes before he let out a steady breath.
“I’m here on business and I’m sharing a hotel suite with two other people.”
Was she doing this? Oh, hell yeah. Life was short, and she was doing this. “I’m here visiting Kate. I have a hotel room all to myself.”
He raised his head. In the lights of the parking lot, he looked dark and sexy. She could see that he had more than a little gray in the short, groomed beard that he wore and glints of it throughout his short-cropped hair. She wanted to get into enough light so that she could see what color his eyes were.
“Are you sure about this?” He was looking at her intensely, his hands firm on either side of her head.
She swallowed. Insecurity slithered in. “Are you?”
He smiled. “Honey, I nearly just fucked you against the door of my truck. Yeah, I’m sure.”
More bad feelings slithered in. “Do you do this a lot?”
He brought his face close to hers. He didn’t try to push. But his answer gave her what she needed.
“No.”
“Wrap your legs around me, Maggie.”
He slid his fingers out of her, but he stroked them over her clit as he did it, and she bucked. Then she pulled his head back down and took his mouth, wrapping her arms around his powerful, naked shoulders and doing as he instructed. She felt his hands cup her bare bottom and lift. She reached down with one hand and guided, he flexed his hips and he was in. Her head fell back and hit the hotel room door.
“Oh, God, yes!” Her gasp mingled with the loud groan that he gave when he bottomed out inside her. Then he pushed her harder into the door, retreated and then surged in, harder and faster, and they both gasped.
The frenzy hit them both simultaneously. Clenching and rocking, the sweat sliding down their bodies as they tore each other apart. She had never felt such pleasure, such lust. She wanted to claw at him, beg him to go faster, harder. So, she did, and with every demand that she made of him, he met and exceeded it. He braced his hands against the door on either side of her head, trusting her to stay with him as she tightened her thighs and arms. His hips drove up and into her, the thrusts rocking her entire body, and still, it wasn't enough. She sunk her nails into his shoulders and tightened the muscles of her pussy as hard as she could as she tried to draw his very essence inside her.
Then she felt it coming. Yes. It was coming and it was going to annihilate her, and she didn’t care. His cock was so good, he hit her so right and so perfectly that she didn’t care if she died from the orgasm that was coming. He was thick and long and hard and divine, and if she died, she died.
It hit and she didn’t die. The undulating waves of pleasure built to a crashing wave of heat and bliss and ecstasy. She vaguely felt her body jerk and her pelvis push into him hard, over and over. She cried out, and his mouth took hers, swallowing the sounds before he slammed into her hard and fast, once, twice, three times and four. He tore his mouth from her hers and groaned loudly with each thrust of his hips as he came
They stayed interlocked for long moments before he finally allowed her to slide her legs to the floor. His chest was still rising and falling rapidly, and he rested the side of his head against hers as they caught their breath.
“Jesus fuck, baby.” His voice was slightly unsteady.
She giggled and kissed his throat. "You said that already."
3
After
He put the folded piece of paper under the edge of her coffeemaker. He wasn't even gone, and he missed her scent already. He grinned wryly. Well, that gave him the answer to the question of whether he was the one-night-stand kind of man.
He quietly opened the hotel door and made his way out to his truck. It was barely dawn, he had slept maybe an hour, and he had given a woman at least five orgasms and had three himself in the last six or so hours. He was forty-five years old, he had two old gunshot wounds and a knee that didn’t like cold, rainy weather.
He felt fucking fantastic.
She was naked.
She never slept naked.
She rolled over and felt the twinges of a few dozen aches, at least one of them very pleasant, but some of them not so much. She remembered why and turned her head rapidly.
The bed was empty. Her stomach clenched. He was gone and he hadn’t woken her. She hadn’t had time to shore up any defenses and she felt the tears prickle. He hadn’t woken her. She supposed it was supremely foolish to expect such a thing. She had slept with a man that she met last night in a bar. She didn’t know his last name. He didn’t know hers.
But he had left before she was awake. How cliché could you get?
She rolled and sat up on the side of the bed. Alone in a hotel after getting her brains fucked out by a stranger. Her grandmother would be spinning in her coffin. A tear slid down her cheek and she dashed it away. Nope, that was not happening. She was a grown woman who had just had five orgasms, given to her by an extortionately handsome man with gray eyes and a smile to die for. Most women never got that kind of night.