Heated Night 1

She didn’t answer with words. She sighed like she’d been holding her breath for hours.

That sound alone made the heat coil low in his gut go cold.

He climbed onto the mattress, his knees sinking into the plush surface, crowding her space until she had to tilt her head back to keep some distance between their faces. He still couldn’t see her clearly. “Good,” he murmured. He wanted it that way he didn’t want to see the person’s face or even know her name. What he wanted was to get the drug out of his body.

His fingers found the zip of the dress at her back and pulled it down. The fabric peeled away from her skin with a soft rasp. He repeated the motion on the other side. The bra loosened, then fell forward, revealing full, soft breasts which bounced into his palms, he cursed under his breath at how perfect they felt, so heavy and warm, the nipples already tight against his thumbs.

He hadn’t planned to linger. Just get off, feel human again, leave cash on the nightstand.

But he couldn’t help himself, he lowered his head and gave one slow lick to her nipple, tasting skin and that maddening vanilla scent. She let out a small gasp, startled and innocent. Her hands fluttered like she didn’t know where to put them, finally settling on his shoulders, trembling.

That tiny shake undid something in him. He suddenly pounced on her and sucked her nipple into his mouth, hard enough to make her arch. Her back bowed, a broken little whimper slipping out. He switched sides, growling against her skin, one hand sliding down the dip of her waist, tracing the flare of her hips, then cupping her ass and pulling her flush against him.

The thin lace between her thighs was already soaked. He pressed two fingers against the damp fabric, rubbing slow circles over her clit through the material. She jerked, thighs clamping around his wrist like she wasn’t sure whether to pull him closer or push him away.

“Fuck,” he muttered against her breast. “You’re dripping.”

Another shaky exhale from her. She was too tired to speak but only let out a soft, needy sound that surprised even her.

He should’ve stopped there. Flipped her over, took what he needed from behind and kept it transactional. But instead, he hooked his fingers in the sides of her thong and yanked it down her thighs. She unconsciously lifted her hips obediently to help without being asked.

He spread her folds open with his thumbs. And froze. She was glistening and it looked untouched.

“No sign that anyone had ever been there before?” he mumbled. His cock jerked hard against the towel still knotted at his waist. “You’re…” He asked in disbelief. “You’re a fucking virgin?” He didn’t see her face because he didn’t want to pay attention to it, but he could clearly see her clit.

After a long pause, Norah nodded, barely visible in the dark.

Something feral suddenly snapped inside him. He dropped between her thighs, shoved them wide with his shoulders, and buried his face in her.

She startled and cried out, her hands flying to his hair immediately, but he didn’t seem to care. He licked slowly at first, savouring the way she tasted, so clean and sweet and so fucking responsive. Every flick of his tongue made her hips buck. Every time he sucked her clit between his lips she sobbed his name… no, not his name, just a pleaded “please...” repeating it over and over. The feeling was new to her and she had no idea how to react.

Because she was clean and had never been touched. He ate her like a man starved. His fingers sliding inside her, curling, pumping slowly while his tongue worked relentlessly, circling. She was tight, clenching around him, so wet it coated his jaw. Her thighs shook violently around his head.

When she came it was sudden and shattering, her back arching off the bed, a choked scream muffled into her own arm, pulsing hard against his mouth. “Oh… h… ahh…”

He didn’t stop. He kept licking her through it, slower now, drawing it out until she was whimpering, oversensitive, trying weakly to push his head away.

Only then did he rise up and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. He was painfully hard, leaking against his stomach. He gently held her hips and flipped her onto her stomach, pulling her ass up just enough to his satisfaction. “Last chance to say no,” his voice became huskier.

“Get it done,” Norah hissed. What type of question is that after adding fire to her body?

He glanced at her head, then settled himself behind her and finally took the towel off. He pressed the head against her entrance and thrust in one deep but gentle stroke.

She gasped in pain, her fingers clawing the sheets, her body tensing at the stretch.

He paused, breathing heavily, fighting every instinct to slam rough and deep into her. “Fuck… you’re so tight,” he finally voiced out.

She whimpered, but didn’t pull away.

He started moving slowly at first, keeping it shallow, letting her adjust to his size. But every little sound she made, every flutter around his cock, shredded his control.

Soon he was thrusting deeper and harder, snapping her ass against himself, one hand wrapped in her hair, the other braced beside her.

She came again like that, her face buried in the pillow, muffled cries, body shaking apart around him. He followed right after, burying himself to the hilt and spilling inside her with a low, guttural groan, jerking his hips through the aftershocks.

After a while of thrusting in her, he finally came, both of them slick with sweat as their breathing turned ragged.

He stayed buried inside her longer than he should have. And hungry for more. “I’m now sober but I don’t think I’m satisfied…” he mumbled.