His hand slides inside my panties. He reaches my center, and I throw my head back against the wall as his fingers slide in and out, my inner walls beginning to tighten around his digits. He inserts another finger, and I can’t stop myself as my body builds, working to a release. This should be considered criminal.
I tense as my body keeps climbing higher and higher. Inhibitions go out the proverbial door as I grind down against him, seeking my release. He laughs lightly in my ear before he licks my neck, then sucks on the sweet spot behind my ear. Then his head drops to my breasts, where he takes my nipple in his mouth. He licks, he sucks, and I am gone, my orgasm washing over me.
As I come down, he carries me to the bed, where he gently lays me down as if I am some prized possession. Before I can clear my mind, his mouth is on mine in a kiss that is full of passion, need, and desire, all untamed and unbridled.
“I need to be in you, Hailey.”
I don’t give it a second thought. In the two encounters I have had with him, he has given me the only pleasure I have ever received from a man. Now he needs to be in me—checks and balances.
I open my legs to him as he drops his pants, rolls on a condom, and then delicately removes my panties as if he was opening the best present in his whole damn life. Under his gaze, my insecurities creep back up, but before I can dwell on them, he is over me, and then he is in me.
Filling me.
Every inch of my body quivers as he stretches me, then stills inside me and stares down at me, watching me, taking me in. Never have I been so full in so many ways. This moment is so intimate, so vulnerable, but at the same time, it feels like a true connection. What is it about this Caldwell man that consumes me?
“Platinum,” he whispers before he finally moves.
I can’t think of what that means, because he is suddenly building me up to another orgasm. He rocks, he rolls, he grinds, and I am helpless to do anything but take the pleasure he continues to induce inside my body before I finally burst again, calling out his name and biting into his shoulder just to remind myself he is real.
With two more thrusts, he stills, then lets go right behind me. He gives me a soft, slow kiss before pulling out, and when he goes to dispose of the condom, I find myself feeling empty. But the moment of space allows my mind to function again.
Empty. How can someone I don’t even fucking know make me feel so empty just by leaving my side for a second? I am certifiably insane to be so wild over a complete damn stranger.
With that thought, dread washes over me. The fog is gone. He is still a complete stranger, and I am still a whore. However, he comes back before I can make an escape. Crawling into the bed beside me, he pulls me to him. Then, at my hesitation, he moves away to give me space.
“Talk to me.”
“I need to go.” I remove my legs from his and cover my breasts.
“Not yet. Talk to me. An hour ago, you were clawing me like you wanted to devour me. You just came twice, babe. I gave that to you.” He strokes my face and taps my temple. “It’s obvious I want in there. What’s going on in your head?”
“Nothing. I just need to go.”
“Deny what you feel, and I’ll say not one word as you leave,” he challenges.
I hesitate, my eyes flickering, and he reads me.
“Deny it. Deny me.” He smirks, causing my body to feel like it’s on fire all over again.
“I don’t know you.”
“Name’s Caldwell, Morrison Caldwell, middle brother to Hendrix and Jagger from Detroit. What else you wanna know?”
“What’s your play?” I ask, feeling the obligation hit me. He’s right—he gave me not one but two orgasms. We’re not even.
Before I can continue, he replies, “No play. You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and I’m drawn to you. I wanna know you.”
“Talking naked isn’t really my thing,” I respond, feeling very vulnerable and even more exposed than before.
Without a word, he gets up and tosses me a button-up shirt from his closet, and I slip it on, realizing I am not getting out of this so easily.
I can do this. I can talk until he falls asleep. Then he gets what he is requesting, and I’ll be out of sight and out of mind.
I give him a bit of general chitchat where I avoid all of the important answers, then pretend to be tired, and he settles in behind me and orders me to sleep. Controlling my breathing, I let him believe I am enjoying dreamland. When he finally relaxes his embrace and his breathing steadies, I know he is sound asleep. Now I can make my escape.
My heart beats loudly in my ears as I shift from under his naked body. Scooping up my panties, I slip them on under my work skirt. I start to unbutton his shirt to leave it behind, but as I move, I smell it—I smell him. Not wanting to risk him waking, I skip putting on a bra and changing into my shirt, deciding it’s best to stay in his.
I look back at him one last time. “Caldwell” is tattooed down his spine in black ink. I will never forget that name, but I sure as hell will force myself to forget his touch, his taste, and his tenderness.