He stands, his wild look reflecting how I feel. Arms wrap around me, holding me close to him. My body finds its shape in him, my curves filling the open space that should never be allowed to exist. Then, his hands move to the last band of fabric hanging off my hips. He finds the seam and slowly pulls it apart. I feel every thread give way. When he rips the last few threads from my body, my breath explodes out of my mouth. Sterling puts his mouth near my ear and whispers, “This is real.”
“Yes.” It comes out in a squeak as I struggle to take in oxygen. My hands grope feebly at the button of his jeans.
“We should be careful, Lucky, we don’t—”
“I’m on the pill.”
It’s his turn to react instinctively. He lifts me from the ground and pins my splayed hips between his chest and the wall. He looks up at me, his face full of naked lust and wonder and reverence. Had it always been there? Had I been too stupid or too consumed with my own pleasure to see it? I feel something fundamental shift—realign. But I don’t have time to consider what it is or what it means, because Sterling frees his cock and plunges inside me.
My arms hook around his neck. My ankles cross above his buttocks. I hold on to him. Sterling’s hands cup the bottom of my ass, supporting my weight but also pulling me wider, so that he can fill more of me.
Restraint has left the building.
He looks into my eyes—and for a moment, he shows me he has nothing to hide, and that I have nothing to fear—and I want this to last forever.
“Don’t,” I pant, “stop…don’t ever stop!”
Sterling smirks and shifts slightly until I can’t find the words to make demands. “Ohhhh—”
His long, strong strokes become quick and powerful, punctuated by the impact of his pelvis on my clitoris. He’s my anchor point. My body shatters around him, safe in the eye of the storm. I am free. I am tethered. I am everything and I am only this. When Sterling arrives a moment later, his eyes roll up to the ceiling, and at last the missing element is found. I dissolve into him, and he into me.
This has always been the easy part.
Sterling’s sweaty forehead presses against mine as we untangle ourselves. He adjusts my robe, covering my body again. “Have dinner with me.”
It’s not a question. I swallow to give myself time to come up with a reason to say no, but I can’t find one that outweighs how much I want to say yes. I gesture down to the robe.“I should change.”
“I like you just the way you are.” He brushes his thumb over my swollen bottom lip.
“You tore off my panties,” I remind him, “and the last time I checked the restaurant had a dress code.”
“Well, when you put it like that.” He releases his hold on me, and, bending down, he gathers the lacy remnants of my panties from the ground before shoving them into his pocket.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to keep those.” Why do I hope he says yes?
He winks at me, turning his smile up until it’s blinding. “Consider it a trophy.”
“If I find them mounted on the wall at your apartment, we’re going to need to talk.”
Sterling twines his hands through mine, leading me down the hall. I’d forgotten for a moment that we never made it inside the suite.
Now that he’s no longer occupying every ounce of my attention with his body, my surroundings remind me. It’s the first time in a long time that I’ve done something as reckless as that, but the flush of shame I expect to heat my cheeks never arrives. I don’t care that I have no business screwing Sterling in the hall of the Eaton. Because I’m already thinking about Sterling’s hands and how much I want them on me again. I’m shaking so badly I can’t get my keycard to work.
“Allow me.” He reaches for it, but I hold it away.
“I’ve got it,” I snap despite all evidence to the contrary. It’s too much. He’s too much. I can’t even think with him this close. Not after that. Not still reeling from how he makes me feel. It takes every ounce of discipline I have to shut the door to the suite in his face with a quick “I’ll be right out.”
If that’s what happens when he catches me outside my door, I can’t risk allowing him inside. We need to talk. He needs to come clean, and I need to hold him accountable. With a locked door between us, I remember that I don’t even have underwear here. I settle for cleaning myself up in the bathroom as best I can. I’m going to have to get some clothes soon, particularly if he’s going to keep shredding mine.
There’s not much I can do without makeup or a hairbrush. My reflection looks as reckless as I feel. My hair is a tousled wildfire, flames swirling uncontrollably around my shoulders. My lips are still swollen with blood from the brutality of his kisses. I ditch the robe and see the imprints from where his fingers dug into my hips. It takes some finessing, but I manage to make my dress look presentable by ditching the torn sash and using a safety pin I find with the complimentary sewing kit provided by the hotel. It’s not exactly dinner at a five-star hotel apparel, but it will have to do. There’s nothing to help my unruly hair, but I find I actually like it like this. I want Sterling to look at me and remember what it felt like to pin me against the wall — to control me. I want him desperate to get me back into bed. I’m
