Scandalized(14)

His lips offer silent encouragement as he nods, nostrils flared.

This is mine, I think. For tonight at least, you’re mine.

Alec is so hard the skin stretches impossibly tight around the tip; it makes my mouth water. He swallows thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing, lips parted as his breathing grows sharper, more broken. With someone new I’d normally be questioning everything I’m doing—is the pressure right, are we going too fast—but tonight there’s none of that. I’m not sure if it’s the way he looks like he’s already struggling to hold on or how hard he is in my hand, but everything about this feels like it’s happening exactly the way it was meant to. His body is defined and smooth, skin glistening with a hint of sweat. I want to feel him moving in every part of me, want the salt of him on my tongue and the entire length of him shoved deep in me, but just imagining how his hand looks on me and in me makes pleasure rise like steam beneath my skin.

I fuck his hand; he fucks my fist. Our kisses grow messy and distracted by pleasure. I keep thinking we’ll stop this and move on to the next thing—if we only have one night, shouldn’t I taste him? Shouldn’t he kiss me between my legs? Maybe we’ll transition to actual mind-bending sex. But even with only our hands it’s better than any sex I’ve had before; I’m so close to the feeling of falling, of coming so hard I worry I’ll wake everyone on the twenty-sixth floor.

“I want to feel you come on my hand,” he says, gasping when my body seizes around him. “On my fingers.”

I’m not far off, and neither is he, I don’t think. My eyes fall closed and he rests his lips on mine, telling me, I’m close, I’m close, and then his words break into filthy, broken phrases that send heat streaking up my neck.

It’s like having pleasure uncorked inside me, spilling everywhere into my blood, and the way my heart is beating, it immediately spreads to every single part of my body, down every fingertip. With a relieved cry, I come on his fingers, clenching around the deep shove of them. He tells me he knows—I can feel you coming—and my desperate unraveling seems to turn everything over in him. With a deep grunt, he follows in a warm pulse against my hip, his teeth bared against my jaw.

I grow aware of how quiet the room was otherwise, and how much noise we were making with our breathing and the frantic movements of our hands and bodies. The air seems to settle in a soft blanket over us, stilling.

“Holy shit,” he says, carefully dragging his fingers back. I shudder, overstimulated, and he whispers an apology into my mouth, kissing me with unbelievable sweetness. With the frenetic energy temporarily quieted, we kiss deeply until it feels like his mouth is a part of mine, until I wonder how it is that we’ve only ever done this tonight.

Alec kisses down my neck to my chest, trailing his wet fingers up my body, where he draws circles over my nipples, following with his tongue, telling me I taste as good as I feel. I am split open and bare for him, on decadent display. I want this man to take me apart, piece by piece, with his hands and mouth and cock. I want him to eat me and fuck me and own me. I dig both hands into his hair and he presses his face squarely between my breasts, stilling there, catching his breath.

“I’m dizzy,” he says, laughing.

“Me too.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on in my life,” he admits. “We didn’t even make it past third base. Is that amazing or tragic?”

“Amazing,” I say on an exhale. His words echo around inside my head, inflating my pride. I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on in my life. “It wouldn’t have mattered where you touched me,” I say. “Even if you’d just kept looking at me the way you were downstairs, I would have come just as hard, probably.”

Alec laughs sleepily, and then his inhales grow deeper, his exhales transition from forceful to exhausted. He falls asleep all at once, like a gas flame extinguished, his mouth slack against my breast, arms wrapped all the way around my waist. I close my eyes and don’t have another thought until they drift back open again, nearly an hour later.

I stir in the tight confines of his embrace. We haven’t moved. It’s 2:37 a.m., and his skin under my hands is smooth and warm. I only mean to send a sleepy palm down his back, but he feels so good, and a little moan escapes. On instinct, his body makes a slow, deep thrust as he drags his cock against my leg. Alec pulls his face away, blinking sleepily up at me.

The intimacy of seeing his eyes open and the relieved smile he can’t help pulls a breath out of my chest. When our eyes meet, it’s like I’m a tuning fork that’s been struck—everything in me vibrates. It’s wild how immediately I want him again.

With a quiet, relieved, “Yeah?” he climbs up my body, coming over me, sliding hard and ready against where I am wet.

I’m just about to ask about protection when he kisses me once more and rises up. “Let me get something.”

I watch him leave, hear the sharp zip of his bag being jerked open. Frantic rustling. A tearing of foil, and I imagine a long snaking strip of condom packets spiraling from a box. I absolutely do not think about him traveling to LA with a full box.

Tension eases in me as soon as Alec returns, kneeling on the bed between my legs.

He curves a hand around my knee. “You good?”

I nod, reaching for him, and he tears the wrapper with his teeth. Gripping himself with practiced assurance, he rolls it on with a loose fist down his length.