Kiss a Stranger Page 7
“Why is that so funny?”
“Because you can be with anyone. If anything, I’m the number.”
He chuckled dryly. “Then you’re a very low number because I don’t have sex with just anybody, little lady. I’m very picky.”
I smiled discreetly. What had I done right to be chosen? I hated having all these questions in my head. I was not the type of girl that liked to stew on shit or misconstrue it. So I simply asked him, “Why did you decide on me right now? I don’t understand.”
He looked down at me with knitted brows. “And I don’t understand why you find that so shocking.”
I shrugged, not meeting his eye. “Well, you just showed up out of nowhere and you tell me you want me… and I don’t get it.”
“I’m very attracted to you.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and slam my head against the wall. How many ways did I have to ask him why he’d suddenly appeared in my life? He didn’t strike me as the type that wanted to just bed me and move on. No, he wanted me. And I needed to know why!
“Have I taken advantage of you?” he asked.
“No.”
“I know I should have slowed down, but I couldn’t help myself.”
“Neither could I.” I inhaled sharply and closed my eyes. God, this warmth was addictive. “I’ve never been like this with someone before.”
“Like what?”
“Like this.”
“Never?”
I shook my head slightly and continued to relax. I listened to his heartbeats, and it soothed me. Nine months of rainy days and the sun finally came out. Whether this was just a fleeting moment of happiness or not was irrelevant. The point was I could feel again, and that gave me hope.
He resumed stroking me, and, like a child, I wrapped my arm around him and clung to him like he was my lifeline. It felt good, yet my heart was acting funny. While it felt like it was soaring, it also squeezed as though it’d been wound up tight by a thread. That thread was tugging, and with every tug it felt painful.
Is this what likeness was? I’d never truly experienced it before. I’d been attracted to men, sure, but never gotten close enough emotionally to truly like them.
And to think, I used to hate the heroines in my books for turning into spineless goo around a man. If this was just a tenth of what they felt, then I was in deep shit.
Because at this rate, I was becoming one of them.
*****
It wasn’t dreaming that brought me back to that horrid event every morning. It was the feeling of waking up. The one thing that stayed with me – imprinted into my soul like a tattoo – was the fear I felt when I woke up.
It was a fear that churned my stomach and made my heart race. It made my skin break out in sweat and my body tremble. The fear of being hurt, of confronting what I’d done – the lives I’d ruined because of my actions – that was what came crashing down on me every morning.
I opened my mouth just as the panic swept it. Like a machine, I stepped back into the usual dreaded routine that occupied me most mornings. Jumping out of bed, I raced out of my bedroom. Nearly tripping over my feet, I made it just in time to hunch over the toilet and throw up.
Nothing came up. I wrapped my arm around my sore stomach and dry heaved over and over again. Until hot tears started falling down my face, reminding me of my pathetic weakness.
I’m vile. So fucking vile.
I nearly startled out of my skin when a hand touched my shoulder.
And then reality came crashing down like a wall of bricks. I remembered last night. The club. My stranger. The sex. And then I realized what I was wearing. Or lack thereof.
I’m naked.
I’m naked because I had sex with a man.
A man I barely know.
And he’s watching me right now.
Naked.
Throwing up.
Ah, fuckity-fuck times a million fucks.
“Are you alright?” Ben asked, and then he added just as quickly, “Stupid question, actually. You clearly aren’t. Let me put your hair up –”
“No, go!” I interrupted him after a violent heave.
“I can’t leave you like this –”
“Please, I’m sick!” And very naked.
He didn’t go. Instead, he brought the hair that had splayed across my face back behind my ears. I heaved some more and cried out, “Please go. I’m naked, Ben, please.”
“So am I. Nothing to hide here.”
Fuck, he really wasn’t going to go away. And I just had to peek at him to learn that he was, indeed, naked. My goodness, even in my sick state I had to admire this body. Under the light, every muscle was all the more pronounced, making me glad I hadn’t conjured up last night’s version of him in the dark.
He settled down behind me, his heat against my back. His hand moved up and down my spine as I cried into the toilet like a child. To boot, he was comforting me, like I was made of fucking glass and on the verge of shattering. I didn’t deserve to be comforted, and yet I was torn because I didn’t want him to stop.
After several minutes of this unbearable humiliation, I flushed the toilet and wiped my mouth with a wad of toilet paper.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked me.
No. “Yeah.”
“Was it something you ate? Because I don’t remember tasting alcohol on your tongue when I kissed you.” God, only he could make that sound erotic.
“I don’t drink anymore,” I stated vacantly.
It was only after a while of tense quiet that I realized I hadn’t answered his question.
“Must have been the food,” I mumbled.
“Hmm. And you’re feeling better now?”
“Yeah.” The feeling of sickness eased away significantly.
“A nice hot shower might help you some more.”
He let go of my hair and stood up. Opening the shower stall door, he turned the water on. He adjusted the water with a hand under it until he was satisfied with the temperature. Then he turned to me and offered his hand.
I took it and he pulled me up swiftly. He grabbed the toilet paper from my other hand and tossed it into the toilet.
“Alright,” he said, motioning to the stall, “in we go.”
I stepped in and waited for him to follow, but he stood by the bathroom door and peered out questionably.
“Is there anyone else in this house at the moment?” he asked. “I didn’t hear anyone coming in during the night.”
“No,” I answered. “My mom’s in Melbourne.”
He nodded and shut the door. He stepped into the shower and I moved back to make room for him. He looked so casual about this, moving under the spray to soak himself. It was like one of those commercials: main focal point his drenched upper body, water cascading down the face in slow motion, him shaking his head and running his hands through his hair.
I fucked that, I smiled to myself. Yep, and I was proud. I’d high five myself if it didn’t make me look creepy. I’d just have to reserve it for Emily.
“The shampoos are all… girly,” I said as he grabbed one off the rack.
He smirked at me. “As much as I want to smell like Cherry Blossom, this is for you, not me. So turn around.”
“You’re going to wash my hair?”
“No, I’m going to wash that plump little ass with Cherry Blossom shampoo.”
He chuckled and I rolled my eyes at his sarcasm, turning my back to him. He wrapped an arm just under my breasts and pulled me closer to him. My breath hitched and my core clenched when I felt his mouth lightly licking a path down my shoulder.
“It’s like touching a metal rod,” he muttered in my ear. “Loosen up a bit, beauty. No need to be shy now.”
Easy for him to say. This was yet another first with a man.
I stood still as he ran his hands through my hair. He soaked it thoroughly before he squeezed the shampoo into the long strands. He handed me my toothbrush and toothpaste while he massaged my scalp in the most relaxing way.
I rinsed the toothbrush and said, “There’s a spare one in the cupboard if you want me to grab it. Just in case you want to brush your teeth too.”
“I have a better idea,” he replied.
After he rinsed my hair, he turned me around and took my finger. I raised a brow at him as last night’s memory of where this finger had been flashed through me. As if reading my mind, the corner of his mouth quirked up. Yeah, we were totally thinking about the same thing.
He pushed out a bit of toothpaste over the tip of my finger and brought it to his mouth.
I giggled – fucking giggled – when he started using it as a toothbrush. He rubbed the pad of my finger up and down his front teeth, looking hilariously serious down at me with a twinkle in his eye.
“You’ve got perfect teeth,” I remarked as he then rubbed my finger against his tongue. I laughed nonstop, and it suddenly occurred to me that he was most likely doing this to loosen me up. It was working.
“So do you,” he replied, running the thumb of his free hand along my lower lip. “Beautiful smile.”
“No, my teeth aren’t perfect,” I rebutted. They were far from perfect. My lateral incisors clashed with my squared front teeth, making them appear pointed and far from straight. I used to get told the way they looked when I smiled was “charming.” In other words, you look goofy, but it strangely suits you.
He took my finger out and rinsed his mouth before giving me a wide grin.
Feeling comfortable and in the moment, I reacted out of impulsive and brought my arms up and around his neck. I pressed my chest against his and stared up at him. He didn’t look surprised by my abrupt move, instantly embracing it. An arm went around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I was fully under the spray with him when he brought his face down to mine and kissed me.
“You have sexy lips,” he murmured, flicking his tongue along them. “They beg to be ravaged.”
“So ravage them,” I told him with a smile.
He did. God, he kissed me like it meant something to him. Either I did in a short amount of time (unlikely), or he was just a phenomenal kisser (most likely).
It was only seconds later when I felt him hardening. It was hard to believe I was really doing this to him. I loved it. I felt so desired and sexy.
My breaths quickened as I slipped my tongue into his mouth. He tasted good. Nice and minty. His hand gripped my hair as the other roamed my back. Up and down before he pulled away from my mouth and turned me abruptly around.
With my back to him, he said, “Turn your head to me.”
I crooked my head to the side and his mouth found mine. He pulled my back flush against his chest and ran his hand down my body, stopping along the way to cup my breast. When he squeezed it, I moaned breathlessly into his mouth. My whole body was alive and sensitive of every touch. The sickness had long faded into black. I was all feeling and little thinking.
His other hand trailed down my side and cupped me between the thighs. He kissed me harder, sucking on my lower lip as his hard length prodded my back. I shivered against him, even though I was burning from the heat of the water and his hot flesh.
His fingers moved between my slick folds and I shook, barely able to reciprocate the kiss he was passionately giving me. He stroked me gently and I panted into his mouth. I shut my eyes, concentrating on the sparks below. I felt like a firework on the verge of exploding.
“That’s it,” he murmured in my ear. “I can feel you tightening. I can feel you about to come. I’m going to fuck you after you do, so hurry the hell up, beauty, because I’m not sure how much more waiting I can take.”
I groaned at his words. This man’s voice alone was sex.
I tensed as he quickened the pace and sucked in a breath when the explosion finally erupted. I sagged against him, feeling the exquisite tingles run up and down my body, weakening my legs until I could hardly stand.
Even long after I caught my breath, his hand was still cupped in the same spot. Not stroking. Not moving. Just touching.
Finally, his kisses rained down my neck and along my shoulder. He bent me forward, until my forehead was against the glass and gripped my hips with each of his large hands.
“There won’t be anything gentle about this,” he told me in a hard tone, contradicting the gentleness moments ago.
I nodded.
At least I think I did.
I was still lost to the world in my orgasm induced haze when I was unexpectedly jolted back. His cock slammed into me. Stretching me. Filling me. Making me gasp out.
A hand ran up my wet spine, collecting my hair into a knotted ball in his fist. He moved out of me slowly, but not a second passed before he pulled me back to him. I cried out suddenly, pressing each hand flat against the glass. Trying to grip something but failing, my body could do nothing but bend to him and let him take me how he wanted.
He moved into me with savage depth, and I startled every time. He was big, hitting the end of my channel with every thrust. At first, I shut my eyes and tried to focus on just riding this out. It hurt.
It bloody hurt a lot.
But I didn’t want to rob him of his pleasure. He gave me a mind blowing orgasm after all, and it was his turn now.
Plus the intensity of the pain was muted by the sounds he was making. They started out low at first, just a small guttural noise at the back of his throat. But the more he moved into me and the faster he went, those noises grew louder. They turned into grunts and soft curses. Hearing it was like an aphrodisiac. It woke up the tingles that had been laid to rest. The sparks ignited again, and I dropped my face so that it was the top of my head against the glass, and I just felt.
I felt it all.
He filled me up so completely. He moved in so deep. And every time he pulled out, he touched something inside my walls that had me gasping in pleasure.
“Don’t stop,” I found myself saying. “Please don’t.” Whatever he was doing, it was working. He was triggering something, rubbing some kind of nerve inside of me that was edging me closer to another explosion.
“Oh, my God, please.” I couldn’t stop begging him. Completely stripped of my former modesty, I cried out louder and met his thrusts every time he pulled out.
He tugged my hair sharply, and it was both painful and addictive. The kind of sensation that seemed to compliment the stir of ecstasy building inside of me.
“Fuck,” he cursed again, moving faster and harder. I came, and the feeling was like nothing I’d ever experienced. It knocked me breathless.
It didn’t take him long before he froze behind me, digging his fingernails into my hip, tugging on my hair so harshly I was sure strands were torn out. The moan – oh, my God, that moan – came out of his mouth like a soft caress in the air.
Oh, I was fucked.
With a dick like that, and a voice like his, and a body that perfect – I was fucked.
He brought me to him again, and wrapped me into his arms. We caught our breaths in each other’s hold, and I didn’t want the moment to end. Ever.
It was only after that it dawned on me… I hadn’t thought of my scars once in that shower with him.
Chapter Eight
Lucky Bitch
He left me alone soon after to rinse myself off. I did it hurriedly, not wanting to miss one single moment with him.
My body was still humming from two orgasms. Two! I’d never had back to back ones before. And I certainly never had one without stimulation.
You’ve been missing out, Claire.
I turned the water off and quickly stepped out. I grabbed the towel and wrapped it around myself before scurrying down the hallway. He was probably in my room still and –
The sound of the front door slamming shut stopped me in my tracks.
Did he just leave? What the hell?
“Hey bitch, where are you?”
My shoulders immediately slumped. Shit.
It was Emily coming in. I really hated that Mom gave her a spare key to the house thinking it was a good idea because she was like “family.” You give Emily one little inch and she’ll take a mile. She used that key not every once in a while, but every bloody time she was around. And the wench was around a lot.
Her footsteps ascended the stairs and when I saw her, my heart spiked. Ben was kicking around somewhere very close. He was probably still getting dressed given how quick I’d rinsed myself after he’d left.
“What are you doing here?” I barked out, shooting her a scorching look. “Don’t you ever knock?”
She turned to me, her back to my bedroom door, and shook her keychain with the house key on it.
“Ain’t nothing you can do about it because Mama Landon loves me, bitch,” she replied with a wink. “And what’re you looking all ghostly white for? You’re just in a towel. Bet you’re naked under there too, huh? Slut.”
“You need to go! I’m really busy –”
“No,” she interrupted, taking a step closer to me. It was then I realized she was still in the same clothes as last night, and her blonde hair and make-up were botched to hell.
She looked like a crucified Barbie doll.
“What the hell happened to you?” I asked, momentarily forgetting the situation. I snickered and added, “You look like a blowfish. You’re not having a good hair day, babe.”
Her blue eyes glared into mine. “What happened,” she said slowly, “is that hot guy from the train a year ago just popped up out of nowhere last night and asked about you! I was bloody drunk, so I was all, huh? But now I realize that’s what you were talking about right before we left, right? About how something interesting might happen.
“So now you got some explaining to do! You’re a lying bitch, and that automatically means you’re sentenced to another Dare Card. But first, you gotta tell me if something interesting did happen. Because I’m hoping it did.” She grabbed my arm desperately. “Did you get laid? Of course you got laid. Was he huge? Please tell me he was huge so I can live vicariously through you and forget about my horrible experience last night with some limp dick asshole that didn’t even get me there. He was tiny. Like throwing a sausage down a hallway kind of tiny, Claire! Do you know what that was like for me? Do you know horny I am still –”