Stripped Bare (Stripped #1)(9)

I couldn’t speak as he buried himself inside me. I turned my face to the side so I could breathe more easily and waited... Waited for him to move. To f*ck me properly. To make me lose my mind.

I felt every inch of his cock as he thrust out and back into me. Slowly, he built a rhythm, speeding up so every thrust into me was a little bit harder. Despite his tight grip on me, my body moved every time he slammed into me. My nipples, already sensitive, brushed against the bed. It felt so good, even as he gripped my ass so tight that it hurt.

My orgasm was building. I trembled, my legs shaking with the effort of keeping me in the same position. West’s movements were so controlled and strong, each thrust so powerful and determined, that I couldn’t have moved if I’d have wanted to. Not as sweat slicked my body and my muscles tensed. Not as pleasure began to rise and he put a foot on the base of the bed, f*cking me deeper.

This sex was rough and unapologetic between two strangers.

I loved it.

Loved it even as my orgasm came so harshly that my vision went black and my entire body tightened. My * clenched around his dick, and his fingertips dug into me as he thrust for his own orgasm.

And—oh my god.

Shivers accompanied the second orgasm that racked my body. I desperately grasped at the sheets, and my back arched, which lifted my butt back up and against him. I’d never felt pleasure this intense, and I barely breathed as West’s relentless pounding drew the orgasm out until he stilled, buried entirely inside me, and dropped his face to my back while groaning.

Holy. Shit.

The man was a sex god.

We stayed that way until my knees finally gave out a couple of minutes later. He pulled out of me and, still wearing the condom, laughed quietly as he took hold of my waist to steady me. “Here,” he said quietly, putting me on the bed.

I wiped hair from my face in a daze and searched for his eyes in the semi darkness of my room. I missed them but caught sight of his tight ass as he walked into the bathroom while rolling the condom off his dick. I lazily smiled before a yawn interrupted it midway. I was still feeling the aftereffects of the double orgasm as I halfheartedly scrambled for the sheets.

He would leave now.

No guy who f*cked that good ever would stay the night.

I pulled tissues from the box on the nightstand, wiped between my legs, threw the tissue in the trash can, and climbed beneath the sheets. Rude? Maybe, but I was tired, and if I hadn’t, I’d have fallen asleep somewhere other than the bed.

I tugged the sheets up to my neck and watched the area by the bathroom for him to come out to say goodbye, but my eyelids felt heavy as the veil of alcohol and orgasms drifted over me.

When I woke up some twelve hours later, he was gone.





THREE WEEKS LATER


I ran my fingers through my hair and looked to the ceiling. I shouldn’t have picked up the phone. “No, Mom, I’m not dropping out of the wedding.”

“Good.” She barely paused before she responded. Her breath crackled down the line. “I told you Darren Costa was a bad idea, Mia. I’d heard things, you know.”

The woman was going to be the death of me. I swore that, one day, when I was dead, the inscription on my tombstone would read: Mia O’Halloran... Death By Insistent Mother.

“Yes? Mom. I remember you telling me to avoid him.” I held the phone between my shoulder and my ear as I opened the fridge.

Where was the freaking cranberry juice? In the pits of Hell, apparently. The exact same place I traveled to every time Mom called.

“And then you agreed I had to make my own mistakes because I’m not a child anymore. Remember that conversation?”

She scoffed as a red carton caught my eye. Holla!

“Yes,” she said, “and here is my obligatory call to remind you that, yet again, I was right. Lark, get off the curtains!” she yelled, momentarily distracted by the mischievous family tortoiseshell cat. “Mia, sweetheart, I just wish you’d find a nice man to settle down with.”

“I’m twenty-five! All I want to settle down with is a pitcher of margarita and a trashy movie on Netflix.”

“I married your father at twenty-two.”

“No. You’ve never mentioned it.” I tried not to roll my eyes. I did. Honestly.

“Are you giving me attitude?”

“Yes. Yes, Mom, I am.”

She sighed. “I don’t know where I went wrong with you.”

You keep calling. “Darren was a perfectly nice guy. He was, for all intents and purposes, the guy you settle down with. However, his penis did not want to settle, and that wasn’t my fault.”

“I warned you,” she said again.

I mouthed it as I poured my juice. It had been coming. I’d known it.

“I hear all sorts at the book club, you know. His mom—lovely lady, dear, can’t imagine how she raised such a loser of a man—was very annoyed at his womanizing ways the last time she attended.”

“What do you mean the last time? We broke up a month ago. Did you know he was cheating on me before I found out?”

Silence.

I knew referring to your mother as a bitch was wrong, but lord almighty, I wanted to.

“I suspected,” Mom finally answered. “But I didn’t know you were serious.”

“Of course you didn’t.” I put the carton in the door of the fridge, where it belonged, and shut it. “Look, I appreciate the dating help, but I’m on a dating vacay. I don’t need it right now.”