Never Kiss a Stranger (3 page)

I swallowed. He was reading me like a book, and I’d hadn’t been around him for even five minutes.

“So, I believe your answer to my question, the reason why you’re really here—the truth, if you will,” he said, “is that you want to give up control. Temporarily, of course. But clinging so tightly to those regulations and routines has to be exhausting.”

God, it was. But it made me feel safe. Being independent, making my own money, and working my ass off gave me security. And freedom. And only someone who’d been on the other side of all of that could appreciate it.

He reached for my hand, pulling me into him again. Our bodies pressed against each other, fitting perfectly like two fated pieces of a puzzle. He slowly raised his hand to my face, his fingers slipping through the hair at my nape and his thumb brushing against my jaw. “There’s nothing more freeing than just letting it all go, Addison.”

His mouth claimed mine.

That was quick.

It was weird kissing a stranger. I didn’t feel a thing—at least, not in my head. The more I gave in to the moment, the more my body fueled a fire that’d been a year in the making.

When Wilder finally came up for air, his piercing eyes locked on mine. “What do you say? You ready to give up control for an hour of your painstakingly-perfected life?”

I nodded. It was why I was there. He had nailed it, and I couldn’t deny how wonderful it sounded to let go.

Wilder’s chocolate brown hair was tousled on top with a slight wave to it, matching his name and setting my curiosity afire. I hated that I couldn’t read him the way he read me. I knew it was supposed to be a hook-up, a one-time thing, but how could I not want to know a little bit more about the man who had figured me out in all of three minutes?

His fingers worked my blouse one button at a time, and when he’d exposed the flesh of my bare stomach, he tugged the silky shirt off me and threw it on the floor.

“That’s Rebecca Taylor,” I said, staring at the crumpled designer, dry-clean-only top lying on the hotel carpet. He ignored me, already sliding my leather Prada leggings down my hips. He tugged my shoes off and threw each one in a different direction. I couldn’t believe he could be so disrespectful to such beautiful works of art. I had worked my ass off to buy those. I’d come a long way from back-to-school shopping at Goodwill to running into Barneys and not even having to check the price tag on a pair of shoes.

Wilder cupped my face in his hands. The cool air of the hotel room enveloped my skin, prickling goosebumps on every square inch of me.

“They’re only things,” he said, studying my face. He stood waiting, his brows arched.

“Oh, yes,” I said, realizing it was my turn to undress him. My cheeks flushed as I grabbed fistfuls of his navy blue sweater and tugged it over his hair, disheveling it even more. I ran my tongue across the fullness of my top lip as I worked his buttons and he loosened his tie, and within seconds, he was a shirtless vision of rippled abs and sculpted shoulders. He shoved his tie into his back pocket, and the second I reached for his belt buckle he stopped me, placing his hand over mine.

“This is where I take over,” he said. “This is where you lose yourself in my world for the next hour.”

The thought of giving up control both tantalized and terrified me. I quickly contained my fear, reminding myself of what I’d come there to do.

“Think you can do that, Addi?” he asked.

I groaned. “Please don’t call me Addi. That’s all I ask.”

He frowned. “I call the shots here…
Addi
.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Fine,” he said, leaning in and scooping his arm behind my waist. His lips found mine again and we stumbled back toward the bed. “I won’t call you Addi. But everything else I might say or do tonight, lovely, is out of your control.”

He laid me across the bed at an angle and lifted my arms above my head. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled his silk tie back out and wrapped it a couple times around my wrists before securing it to the headboard.

I tugged at the straps that bound me. I was really tied up. This wasn’t pretend. I pressed my lips together as my body tingled from head to toe and my clasped hands trembled.

As he hovered over me, the intensity of his raw verve drew attention to the burning desire in my core. He smelled like vetiver and cedar, tobacco and musk; like a rich cologne only a few fortunate individuals could afford to wear.

Wilder clicked off the lamp and lowered his body over mine. The floor-to-ceiling windows of our suite ushered in the flickering glow of New York City at night, and though we were amongst millions of people, we were in our own little world high above it all.

Wilder lowered himself to my hips, floating above my silk panties. His fingers slid beneath the waistband, traveling lower and pulling the fabric away from my mound.

“Exquisite,” he said as he admired me. Red bloomed in my cheeks, and I was thankful he couldn’t see it in the dark. “Really. Exquisite.”

And then he ripped them. My very expensive, French, silk panties. Ripped clean off me. I opened my mouth to protest.

“It’s just a thing, lovely,” he said again.

She tasted of arousal with a hint of flowers, and I smiled at the notion that she’d spent time prepping for our little encounter. With her panties lying in shreds on the floor of the hotel suite, I devoured her intricately-groomed and deliciously sexy pussy.

My tongue separated her folds as I slid a finger inside her, previewing her warmth and wetness. She was tight, almost too tight, which matched her personality perfectly.

“Relax,” I whispered. I glanced up to find her biting her tongue as her wrists wriggled and writhed against the tie the held them in place.

Soft moans escaped her full, fuckable lips, as if she were embarrassed to let herself go but couldn’t fight it off completely. I breathed in her scent, letting it flood my lungs, and continued licking and exploring her beautiful pussy.

Had she been another girl, I’d have let her suck my cock and then finished myself off balls-deep inside her, but Addison was different. There was something about her that told me this probably wouldn’t be the last time I saw her.

She needed me, whether she knew it or not.

I peeled myself away, leaving her panting and breathless and probably relieved to get a break from fighting off her orgasms for a minute, and searched for the foil packet I’d set on the nightstand earlier.

Sheathing my engorged cock, I readied myself at her wet and ready entrance. “Are you ready, lovely?”

She lifted her head toward me, her eyes seeming confused even in the dark. “I didn’t realize this was going to happen so quickly.”

“Do you want more foreplay?” I asked. “I could let you suck my cock, but I’d much rather bury it deep inside this pretty little pussy of yours.”

Her head fell back into the soft pillow and she nodded. “Do whatever you want to me, Wilder.”

I wasn’t a man whore by any stretch of the imagination, but most of the girls I’d been with were so fake in the sack it took everything I had to keep my dick hard. They’d enthusiastically suck my cock like it was a fucking lollipop and then scream out my name as if they were auditioning for a goddamned porno. Addison was real. All she did was be herself.

And it made me hard as fuck.

I pressed the head of my cock toward her soft entrance and inserted myself inch by inch until I was all the way in. She felt like heaven, like a teenage boy’s wet dream and a night at the Playboy Mansion all rolled into one. If pussies came in luxury models, hers was the Rolls Royce. Tight and soft. Wet and inviting.

One thrust. Two thrusts. Slow at first, then building. Each thrust brought me closer to the brink, much to my dismay. I could last for hours in any other woman I’d bedded, but not Addison.

I forced myself to think of other things. Baseball. The stock market. Smog. But they kept coming back to her and how fucking amazing she felt on my dick. Her hips wriggled and bucked beneath me, meeting me thrust for thrust, and she gripped onto the tie each time I hit her wall.

“Wilder,” she panted. “Oh, my God…”

My hand traveled up her breasts, a pert nipple tickling my palm, and then landed under her jaw. My thumb traced over her fuckable pink mouth. I’d have to know what it felt like another time.

I fucked her as long as I could, filling my mind with as many unsexy thoughts as I could in an attempt to stave off the inevitable. She bucked hard against me as sexy moans and expletives flew from her lips, so I had to correct her. “No, lovely. I’m in control.”

“But I can’t fight…” she breathed, her words trailing as she attempted to obey me.

“Trust me. I know what you need,” I said in a low whisper.

I didn’t want to pull out of her. I wanted to stay in her forever, bask myself in her musky arousal, fuck her all night long, round after round. I barely knew her, and yet she was one of the most fascinating people I’d ever met. I’d never met a girl so prim and proper and perfect who quietly preferred to be tied up and fucked like that. I supposed it made sense though.

Addison fought it long and hard, but after a while her body gave up the fight, practically convulsing as she bit her lip to keep from screaming. I released myself as she wriggled and bucked against my cock.

The second she caught her breath she glanced at the nightstand toward the alarm clock. “Shit. I have to go. I have to be up in six hours.”

I raked my hand through my hair. “Seriously?”

She just came all over my cock, and that was the first thing she had to say when it was over and done with?

“Untie me,” she said, immediately returning to pre-fuck Addison. I tugged on the strap of the tie, unraveling it. She rubbed her wrists and scooted off the bed while I enjoyed the view.

She was a true hourglass: curved hips, whittled waist, round, natural breasts. She could’ve given Marilyn Monroe a run for her money, back in the day. If I had to guess, she probably didn’t know how sexy she was, or it was so removed from her perfect list of priorities that it didn’t matter.

She rifled around the room, searching for the bits and pieces of the clothing she’d shown up in.

“You mind calling me a cab?” she asked as she grabbed a sparkling stiletto from the floor.

Women like her, the workaholic types, only gave their sexuality a thought when they realized how much their girlfriends were getting laid or when they were lying awake at night thinking about how good it would feel to have hot sex right about then. I imagined that was how Addison found me.

Admittedly, I was doing the same thing. Looking for a one-night stand. An innocent hook-up. A beautiful girl to bury my dick in for an hour or so. But now that I’d had her once, I wanted to have her again.

I pulled my jeans back on and flipped on the light. She was all dressed, save for the torn underwear lying on the ground.

She stepped toward me, as if she didn’t know how to say goodbye.

“I’ve never done this before,” she said, her eyes shifting nervously. “For the record.”

“I figured.”

“Thanks for tonight,” she said in a low husk with the tiniest hint of a southern drawl. “I needed it.”

Her pretty blue eyes washed over me, as if she wanted to get one last glance at me before she left. She wrapped her cream coat around her and secured it with a shiny, glass button. She looked just as beautiful leaving as she had when she’d arrived. The flush on her cheeks were the only sign that she’d just been fucked. Other than that, she was pure elegance.

“Look, lovely,” I said, combing my fingers through the side of my hair. “I don’t do relationships, or anything like that, but if you wanted this to be a regular thing, I could probably make that happen.”

I couldn’t believe I was propositioning her. It never happened this way. It was usually the girl pretending she wasn’t interested in me, like I wouldn’t know what reverse psychology was, and her subtly hinting about hanging out again.

Addison made no mention of seeing me again, and I suppose the fact that she could have very easily walked out of there that night and I’d have never seen her again made me break my rules.

Her full lips arched upward at the corners as her blue eyes glinted. “This was a one-time thing, remember?”

She walked to the door, seconds from walking out of my life forever. I couldn’t let that happen.

I cut her off, placing my hand on the door. “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear just a second ago.”

“What’s that?”

“I have to have you again.”