Page 21 of Blind Attraction

His hands lowered to her ass, lightly cupping. Time stood still as his head tilted down, and she swallowed hard in the seconds it took for his mouth to descend upon hers. The pressure was delicate, like silk against her lips. He kissed her once, twice, his force growing with each caress as he tilted her head back for better access.

She teased the hair at his nape with tender strokes and scraped her nails over his skin. She wanted more. Taste, touch, passion. She wanted to be consumed by him and driven to the brink of insanity with the ferocity of his worship.

Grinding her hips into his, she rubbed against his erection, arching her back at the hardness she longed to take in her hand. He growled into her mouth, gripping her ass with force and crushed his body into hers. She gasped, all the air escaping her lungs.

He deepened the kiss, their tongues clashing as he lifted her off the ground and placed her on the counter. His weight pushed between her thighs, his erection nudging against the thin material covering her sex. She gyrated her hips and tugged at his hair, her body demanding more. He answered her silent pleas by thrusting into her again, letting the delicious friction of his cock rub against her clit.

Each sensation was new. The pleasurable sex, the passionate intimacy. There were no nerves, no apprehension. She craved more. She wanted to learn everything Mitchell could teach her, no matter how little time they would have together.

The ache in her core infiltrated her entire body, driving her to kiss him deeper, to grind back into his thrusts. His hand left her ass, traveling down the front of her boxers, past the waistband, into her panties. She whimpered at the brush of his fingers against her sensitive bundle of nerves and jolted when they delved deeper, penetrating her pussy.

She broke the kiss, panting for breath and rocked herself against his digits. “Please, Mitchell. I want you inside me.”

He didn’t respond, only planted his lips back on hers and stole the air from her lungs. Her sex pulled at him, tugging his fingers deeper until the pleasure became too much. She pushed at his chest. “Stop. I want you inside me.”

“Not this time,” he whispered and brushed his mouth against hers.

She wanted to break away, to plea for him to fill her. He wouldn’t allow it, his lips demanding more from their kiss. His fingers stroked in and out, his thumb flicking her nub at every insertion. Her breasts screamed for friction. Her core convulsed with the first signs of orgasm. She whimpered, so close, on the edge and about to soar.

A far away knock sounded and she jerked back, bracing one hand on the counter and the other on his chest.

“Shh.” He soothed, his fingers continuing their torment. “It’s only room service. They can wait.”

Mitchell leaned into her, his cheek brushing hers, his lips at her ear. “I’m not answering the door until you come.”

She moaned, believing his declaration. She closed her eyes, blocking out the smudged picture and concentrated on the memory of his cheeky grin peering down at her from the stage. He had the best facial features, boyish yet charming, devilish yet seductive.

His lips pressed against the side of her neck and she tilted her head to allow him better access. He nipped her, the bite of pain adding to the pleasure beating between her thighs. She had to press her lips together to hold back a scream.

The pace of his fingers increased, his strokes coming harder, his thumb now a constant rub against her clit. Her abdomen filled with heat, her orgasm forming and growing until it took over.

She gasped. Her core convulsed in time with his rhythm, and she rocked her hips against his hand. She ignored the world, bowed her head into his shoulder, and let ecstasy conquer. Gradually the euphoria died down, leaving her in a panting, heaving mess on the counter.

The knock sounded again, for the second time or the tenth, she had no clue.

“I better get the door.” His fingers withdrew, along with his warmth. A rush of tap water sounded followed by a kiss on her cheek. Two seconds later she was alone with only her rampant heartbeat and wild thoughts to keep her company.

Rooted to the spot, she blinked at nothingness while her brain struggled to process her emotions. Over the years she’d begun to contemplate her sexuality. Maybe men weren’t for her. She’d always found them attractive, had fantasized and lusted over them in magazines and on the television. There just hadn’t been a physical spark when it came to sex.

Until now… Now she couldn’t wipe the relief from her expression. Mitchell had touched her with skill and confidence. She acknowledged his expertise would’ve come from an overly healthy amount of experience. He knew how to stroke, how to kiss, how to caress…and she didn’t care.

She wasn’t broken and that was all that mattered.

A tear fell down her cheek, and she wiped it away with a relieved breath. Years of brainwashing from her mother hadn’t crippled her. She’d begun to worry that the trauma from being surrounded by abused women had sunk in. She’d never held the hatred or deeply scarring fear for men like her mother clung to, but still, Alana thought the aversion may have settled into her subconscious.

Her interaction with the opposite sex was limited, her experiences tainted. Yet she’d grown into a woman who learned not to be frightened of things because of other people’s nightmares. She still held apprehension and a healthy dose of wary caution, but her stomach filled with butterflies knowing her upbringing hadn’t scarred her ability to be with a man.

Her heart grew increasingly attached to Mitchell as the minutes passed. He showered her with attention, fought to protect her, went out of his way to take care of her. And now, he’d given her the one gift no other man had been able to.

Heat consumed her eyes and her nose tingled. She sniffed and shook her head. She wasn’t going to cry a river of tears over her first outsourced orgasm. Nope.

She lifted her chin and breathed deep. She’d been raised covered in a blanket of fears and each day away from home showed how much she needed to break free and live her own life. Releasing the breath, she scooted from the counter, righted her clothing, and took her first step into a new life that was bright and shiny...even if she couldn’t see it.

Mitch tipped the waiter and showed him to the door. His stomach growled. He was starving, not only for food, but for his voracious hunger for Alana. As he walked into the bedroom, she shuffled from the bathroom, her hands up while she took cautious steps.

“There’s nothing in front of you. If you take three small steps forward, you’ll hit the mattress.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

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