Chapter Two: A Stranger's Bed

Jennifer couldn't have said how she'd ended up here, in a sprawling high-rise apartment with floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the entire glittering city. But the stranger in front of her was watching her like she was something he intended to consume slowly.

"Something tells me this isn't a habit of yours," he said quietly. "I can call you a car, if you'd rather—"

She shook her head. "No, this is exactly what I do. I wander into dive bars with terrible lighting and go home with strangers all the time."

He was already working his shirt open, one button at a time, eyes never leaving her. Her mouth went dry. But she wasn't backing out now.

The last button gave, and the shirt slid off his shoulders and pooled at his feet. Jennifer's breath caught. His chest was a canvas of ink, intricate and beautiful.

He stepped closer, a slow smile curving his mouth. "Something wrong?"

"No. No," she managed, breath hitching as he closed the distance between them. She stepped back on instinct and hit the wall. He was close now, close enough that she could feel his breath against her face and the heat rolling off his skin. He tipped her chin up with one finger, gray eyes darkening as they held hers.

"Good," he murmured, "because it'd be a waste. I'm going to fuck you, Jennifer. Right against this wall, your wrists pinned behind your back, your toes barely brushing the floor." He dragged a thumb slowly across her bottom lip, and it parted on its own. "I'm going to fill you up completely and listen to you scream while I fuck the breath out of your lungs."

"And after that." His hand slid down her arm, catching the hem of her scrub top. He worked it upward, palm flattening against her stomach. "I'm getting on my knees, wrapping your legs around my head—" his fingers found the front clasp of her bra and flicked it open with practiced ease, "—and I'm not stopping until you come apart in my mouth."

"Understand?"

She couldn't nod. Could barely breathe.

He pulled her shirt over her head and let it drop. She made a small, broken sound as his hand cupped her jaw, and the sound disappeared entirely when his mouth crashed into hers.

Her head went hazy. His tongue swept into her mouth, chasing the taste of scotch still lingering there. His hand closed over her breast, rougher palm teasing her nipple until her whole body hummed with static. The rasp of his calluses against her skin made her knees weak.

He drew back only far enough to catch her bottom lip between his teeth. She gasped and arched into him before his mouth found hers again, deeper this time.

She wound her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, chasing something she couldn't name yet. Her breath hitched as his lips dragged along her throat, tongue tracing the thrum of her pulse, sending sparks straight down her spine. He pinched her nipple, and the sting of it mixed with pleasure until she couldn't separate the two. "Mm." A soft, wrecked sound slipped out of her as heat pooled low and insistent between her thighs. "Please," she whispered.

His head dipped, tongue flicking over her nipple, wet heat closing around it. Jennifer's fingers tangled in his hair, nails scraping his scalp as he took both breasts in his hands, drawing her nipples into his mouth one after the other, sucking hard.

Her knees gave out beneath her.

God.

It was too much, too fast.

She pushed weakly at his chest, but he caught both wrists in one hand, pinning them behind her back as he turned her to face the window instead. "I warned you." His voice was low against her ear, lips grazing her skin. He pressed against her from behind, and she felt exactly how hard he was, thick and heavy against her thigh. "I'm going to fuck you until you can't remember your own name."

He tugged her pants down in one motion, and they pooled at her feet. She jolted as his knee nudged her legs apart, one finger slipping beneath the fabric of her panties, tracing slow, deliberate circles. Her mouth fell open, head dropping forward as a moan tore loose, shameless and unguarded, her hips rocking into his hand.

She heard the fabric tear as he pulled her panties aside. She didn't care. It was replaceable.

A whimper broke free as his fingers pushed inside her, thick and unhurried. The sound was slick, obscene, swallowed by her own ragged breathing as he curled his fingers and stroked in the same motion.

A second finger joined the first.

"Fuck. Mm, mm—" She bit down on her knuckles, muffling the cry building in her throat as her thighs shook and her body clenched around him, again and again.

He pulled his hand back immediately. "I want to hear you, Jennifer," he said. "If I wanted silence, I'd have gagged you."

He pulled her flush against his chest and kissed her slow, coaxing her mouth open with his tongue. He rocked his hips gently into her, and she felt wetness sliding down the inside of her thigh.

She was soaked. And he knew it.

She felt him move behind her, the rasp of his belt, his zipper. He bent her forward, guiding her palms flat against the glass. "Stay there."

He groaned low, muttering something under his breath, and then something blunt and warm slid between her thighs. "I'm not going slow. Take every inch."

Jennifer came undone.

He was massive, and he pushed in without mercy, rocking her onto her toes, stretching her open. She cried out, nearly buckling, but his arm banded around her waist to hold her upright. "Halfway," he rasped against her ear. "You're taking it so well. You can handle the rest."

He pulled back and drove forward again, and her scream came out silent, mouth open with no sound behind it. His grip on her hip bruised, his other hand keeping her wrists locked in place.

She was completely at his mercy, drowning in the pleasure wrecking her body from the inside out. The sound of skin against skin filled the apartment, filthy and relentless, drowning beneath his low grunts and her shattered, breathless moans. He fucked her until her toes couldn't find the floor, and when they couldn't, he lifted her fully into his arms, carrying her the rest of the way to the window, still buried inside her.

God. Heaven. Something like it.

Her head lolled forward, eyes rolling back as her body ached, desperate for release.

The glass was cold against her back. Over his shoulder she could see the city lights scattered below them. "They can see you," he murmured, a wicked edge to his smile. "Watch me fuck you."

He cradled her jaw and kissed her again as he rocked them against the glass, swallowing every gasp and whimper. She felt herself teetering on the edge, his thumb finding her clit and circling in slow, maddening pressure.

Her head dropped against his shoulder, breath coming in uneven bursts.

He drew back to the tip and thrust forward again.

She shattered. Her whole body convulsed, clenching around him as her vision blacked out at the edges. He didn't stop, driving into her again and again, wringing every last tremor of her orgasm out of her spent body. She went limp in his arms as he tensed behind her, one final thrust before he pulled free, spilling against her skin instead.

Jennifer's internal clock woke her the next morning.

Her skull throbbed. Her throat felt raw, her eyelids heavy and reluctant. She forced them open anyway, years of early shifts refusing to let her stay in bed. She looked around, blinking.

The room was unfamiliar. Charcoal walls, minimal furniture, easily three times the size of her own bedroom.

She pushed herself upright, pressing her fingers to her temples. The night rushed back all at once, sharp and unwelcome.

She'd slept with a stranger hours after watching her fiancé get his cock sucked by her former best friend.

A very handsome stranger.

A small, involuntary smile tugged at her mouth. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, wincing as her body reminded her exactly how thoroughly it had been used the night before. Heat crept into her cheeks as she scanned the room.

No sign of him anywhere.

Huh.

"Did he just leave?" she muttered to the empty room. Her clothes sat folded neatly on the nightstand, her phone resting on top. She crossed the room, pulled them on, grabbed her phone, and slipped out into the hallway. The apartment was even bigger than she remembered from the night before, the same stark, minimal style carried through every room.

She shook her head. Not her business what he did with his own space. She'd gotten exactly what she came for. Time to go.

But first, water.

She wandered into the kitchen, pulled a bottle from the fridge, twisted the cap free, and lifted it to her lips, when something on the counter caught her eye. A wallet. She knew better. She reached for it anyway, glancing over her shoulder first.

Cash. More cash. Then a card.

She slid it free, frowning at the unfamiliar company name printed across it. But the name beneath it made the air freeze in her lungs.

She never forgot names. Never had. And there was one name Gerald used to spit out like a curse whenever it came up, the uncle who'd humiliated the family and vanished from polite conversation entirely. The same name staring back at her now.

Carter Blackwood.

"Has anyone

ever told you it's rude to go through a stranger's wallet?"