Page 12 of Flirting with the Stranger

Without missing a beat, she says, “More than you’ll ever know.”

I push her against the window again, except this time I hike one of her legs over my hip. Using the window for leverage, I lift her other leg until she’s fully wrapped around me. The head of my dick slides down the seam of her pussy. I rock my hips back and forth, collecting her wetness on my shaft. Thoughts of pushing into her, condom be damned, flit through my mind. The last bit of blood rushes south as I imagine her stretching around me with no barriers between us. But I can’t risk it. The tip of my cock teases her clit and she whimpers. She rocks against me, seeking any sort of friction she can find.

Not wanting to wait another second, I rip into the foil packet with my teeth and discard the wrapper on the ground. I reach below us and roll the condom on. Once it’s in place, I rub the tip through her slick pussy, gathering her wetness. On my last stroke down, I find her entrance and push her down onto my cock.

“Fuck. I think your pussy was made for me. It fits so perfect.” A deep moan rumbles from my chest as her pussy clenches around my dick, her heat enveloping me. I’ve never felt anything this good.

Her hands fly to my shoulders and her nails dig into my muscles. Her mouth falls open as she adjusts to my size. “Oh shit. You’re so big.”

She throws her head back, and I take the moment to suck on her soft flesh at the base of her neck. I pull my hips back and thrust back in. Repeating the motion over and over again as I nip and suck on her heated skin. She uses my shoulders for leverage to bounce on my dick, meeting my thrusts. The sound of our skin slapping mixed with our moans of pleasure fill the room. Between us, her tits bounce, causing her pebbled nipples to brush against my chest. She throws her head back again, pushing out her chest, the featherlight sensation I’m sure driving her wild, too. I continue to pound into her, my orgasm on the brink of exploding, but I need her to come first.

“Fuck. I’m not going to last much longer. You’re so tight. I need you to come for me.”

“I’m almost there.”

She pulls herself closer to me so we’re chest to chest. She rotates her hips as I continue to thrust into her, her clit rubbing against the base of my cock. Her pants and moans mix with my grunts and gets louder with each thrust. A few seconds later, her pussy contracts around me, squeezing me like a vise grip. I can’t hold out any longer. White hot heat floods my body as my seed spurts out, filling the condom as I roar out my orgasm. I slow my thrusts until she’s milked every last drop out of me. I pull out of her but never let her go. Using the window, I press her back to the glass for the leverage to keep her upright. Both of our chests heave from exertion. She wraps her arms around my neck, and I nuzzle into hers.

“That was a first.” My gaze meets hers.

“First time having sex?” Uncertainty laces her tone.

I bark out a laugh. Her eyebrows knit together, still unsure where I’m going with this. “No, not sex. First time…against a window.”

But what I really want to say is it’s the first time where I’ve felt so consumed by someone else. The first time it’s felt that intense.

She releases a laugh of her own, soft and sweet. “Oh. Yeah. Same.” There’s a brief pause as she contemplates what she wants to say next. “Earlier, you called me cupcake. Why’s that?”

Surprised from her question, I nuzzle my nose into her neck. “You smell like vanilla. It reminds me of the cupcakes my mom would bake for me.”

“You’re thinking of your mom right now.”

“Uh…no. Well, it’s now been replaced with memories of you.”

“Always the charmer.”

“But also, let’s not forget, I still owe you three more orgasms. And I’m a man of my word. Perhaps, if you’re a good girl, I’ll even toss in two extra.” I flash her a dimpled smile. But mostly, I don’t want this night to end.

SEVEN

FAKE STRIPPER

Hollyn

Hangovers are no joke. My head feels like over mixed batter as if someone put my brain in a stand mixer and turned it to ten. The culprit of this displeasure goes by the name of lemon drop martini. I crack an eyelid and I’m greeted with a mop of brown hair. I freeze. Oh shit. Everything from the night before comes rushing back to me. The stripper. The elevator. The window. So much nakedness. And so many orgasms. I roll over and slink out of bed. When I stand, an ache between my legs reminds me of everything that happened the night before.

Then the cool air hits my naked body, once again reminding me of what went down last night. And Van did a lot of going down. Shit. Where are my clothes? On the other side of the room, I spot my shoes haphazardly laying on the floor, but no dress. Tiptoeing around the foot of the bed, I find my weekend bag and pull out a bra. I throw the straps over my shoulders and clasp the back. I go back in and grab a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt.

Once I’m dressed, my gaze darts from one side of the room to the other. On the nightstand, I spot a ripped foil packet and shrug. At least we used protection. Do I wake him and tell him it was fun, but it’s time for him to leave? Will he want another round? I quirk an eyebrow at the thought. But then the tenderness between my legs tells me I can’t handle any more of Van for a few hours or, hell, a few days.

Last night…I don’t know what came over me. He made me feel beautiful and confident, and like I could have anything I wanted. And God, I wanted him. Even without all the alcohol flowing through my veins, I know my feelings wouldn’t be different. But now what do I do? This is uncharted territory. I need reinforcements. With one last glance behind me, I scurry out of the bedroom and exit the suite.

A minute later, I’m pounding on Parisa’s door. I wrap my arms around myself as I wait. I’m not the girl who partakes in random one-night stands. It was exhilarating, but now what?

The door flies open. “Oh, good to know you’re still alive.” Parisa throws her arms around me in a hug before she moves out of the way, and I advance through the open door.

I glance around the room. “Is Seth around?”

“He’s still in the bedroom.” Parisa hikes her thumb toward a closed door.

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