Chapter 2: Everything I Gave Him

The dress hits the floor and he steps back and looks at me.

Just looks.

Standing in his hotel room in my bra and underwear under his eyes and the city glittering cold and indifferent behind him and he looks at me the way men look at things they intend to take their time with. Slowly. Completely. Like I'm something he's going to learn by heart before the night is over.

"Damn," he says quietly. Not performed. Just honest.

Something loosens in my chest and tightens between my legs simultaneously.

He reaches out and traces one finger along my collarbone, down the center of my chest, along the top of my bra, and I shiver hard and his mouth curves.

"Cold?" he asks.

"Opposite," I manage.

He unhooks my bra from the front and it falls away and his eyes drop and his jaw tightens and he cups both my breasts in his warm hands and his thumbs brush my nipples and they harden instantly and I exhale a shaky breath.

"Sensitive," he observes.

"Very," I say.

He lowers his head and takes one into his mouth and sucks slow and I grab the back of his head and hold him there and my knees do something unreliable. He works it with his tongue and his teeth, just slightly, just enough, while his fingers roll the other one and I am already making sounds that would embarrass me in daylight.

His mouth travels down.

My stomach. My hip. He hooks his fingers into my underwear and drags it down my legs and I step out of it and he's on his knees in front of me and he looks up from the floor with those dark eyes and I feel that look in my pussy like a pulse.

"Bed," he says. "Lie down."

I move to the bed and I lie down and I feel like I ran instead of walk. 

He parts my thighs with both hands and looks at me spread open and wet and wanting on his hotel sheets and makes a low sound in his throat that goes directly into my bloodstream.

"Garry," I breathe.

He doesn't answer. He lowers his head and licks through me in one slow devastating stroke and my hips snap up off the mattress and my hands fly to his hair.

His tongue parts my lips and pushes inside me and fucks into me and I grab the sheets above my head and pull and grind against his face because shame has completely left the building. He works his way to my clit and seals his lips around it and sucks and I cry out, loud and raw, and my thighs try to close around his head and he pushes them back open and holds them there.

"Stay open," he says against me.

I stay open.

He eats my pussy like it's the only thing on his agenda for the rest of his life. Deep strokes of his tongue, slow circles on my clit, his lips sucking and releasing while I writhe and grab his hair and say his name and God and please in no particular order. Two fingers push inside me finger fucking me and curl up hard and find a spot that makes my vision white out at the edges.

"Oh!" I grab his hair with both fists. "Oh fuck, right there, Garry, right there..." 

He keeps his fingers exactly finger fucking that particular spot and works my clit with his tongue in fast tight circles and I am climbing so fast it's almost frightening.

"I'm gonna cum," I gasp. "I'm gonna cum already, I can't hold..."

"Cum," he says against me. Low and certain. "Let me taste it. Cum in my mouth right now, sweetheart."

I'm grinding on his fingers and his tongue and his face and I cum and I cum hard on him.

I cum and clench so hard around his fingers that he groans against my pussy and I flood his mouth and grind my clit against his tongue while he works every rolling wave out of me, his fingers pumping through my orgasm, slick gushing over his hand and down onto the sheets while I make sounds that carry through every wall in this hotel and I do not care even slightly.

He works me through every tremor.

Every aftershock.

Until I'm pulling his hair to get him to stop because my clit is so sensitive it's almost pain and even then he gives it one last slow lick that makes my whole body jolt before he kisses his way up my stomach.

My ribs. My breasts, stopping there, sucking each nipple until I'm arching off the bed again.

My throat. My jaw.

My mouth.

I taste myself on his lips and my hips roll up against him immediately, feeling him hard and thick against my hip, and I reach between us and wrap my hand around his cock and he tears his mouth from mine with a sharp rough sound.

"Fuck," he breathes.

"That's the idea," I say.

I stroke him slow, base to tip, and his jaw goes tight and his hips push forward into my grip and his eyes close briefly and I feel powerful enough to level the entire building.

"Dara." A warning wrapped in gravel and want.

"Mm?" I twist my wrist at the top and rub on his cock cap and he curses under his breath.

"You keep doing that," he grits out, "I'm gonna cum on your stomach before I get inside you."

"Then get inside me," I say.

He reaches for his wallet on the nightstand.

Condom on.

He comes back to me and I spread my thighs and he lines up and looks at me, really looks, one final moment of eye contact that feels like a question and an answer at the same time.

He pushes inside me.

Slow. Thick. Filling me inch by devastating inch while my mouth falls open and my nails find his back and dig in and he watches my face process every single inch of him with his jaw clenched and his arms shaking slightly with the effort of going slow.

"Good?" he grits out.

"So full," I breathe. "God, you're so thick, don't stop, give me all of it..."

He gives me all of it.

Bottoms out completely and holds there, buried to the hilt, both of us breathing hard and adjusting and not speaking because there are no words for this specific feeling.

"Move," I say finally. Desperate. "Garry, please, fuck me..." 

He moves.

Deep rolling strokes that drag every ridge of him across my walls and make the headboard knock and my toes curl and these raw broken sounds pour out of me one after another. He hooks my leg higher and the angle shifts and his cock hits something inside me that makes me cry out sharp and sudden and he hits it again, deliberately, and again.

"Yes!" I grab the headboard. "Right there, yes, don't you dare stop!" 

"You gonna cum again?" His voice is rough, barely controlled.

"Yes," I gasp. "Yes, I'm gonna cum again, please don't stop..."

He reaches between us and presses two fingers to my clit and rubs hard fast circles while he fucks me and I lose every coherent thought I have ever had. My second orgasm crashes through me before I'm even finished processing the first one, clenching around him so hard he loses his rhythm and curses and drives in deep and follows me over, groaning my name against my throat in a low rough voice that I feel in my spine, spilling inside the condom while I milk him through every pulse.

We stay tangled together.

His weight warm and solid on me.

My fingers in his hair.

Neither of us speaks for a long time.

Then his phone lights up on the nightstand.

I don't mean to look.

But the room is dim and the screen is bright and the name sits there in white letters like a bucket of cold water poured directly onto my chest.

Incoming call: Vanessa. Wife.

Everything stops.