He quickly figures out just how far he can push me, how hard and long I can take it, and always, always the gentle touch while he holds himself deep.

  He takes my mouth this way five times. Ten. I’m drowning, the lack of oxygen amplifying the contrasting sensations of the brutal way he grasps my hair and how tenderly he touches my face. This wasn’t on my list, but it sure as hell is now.

  The vibrator falls from my hand. Oh, crap. I’m supposed to be pleasuring myself, though I have no idea how he expects me to concentrate with the mind-blowing thing he’s doing with his cock. I manage to slide it back into my pussy and get back to rolling my hips. With a flick of a finger, I set the vibrator on max and angle the extra attachment so that it hits my clit just right. The added intensity of the stimulation has me swallowing around his dick.

  I hear a choking sound, and he starts to pump his hips, fucking my mouth. My lips are forced wide around him, and I use the flat of my tongue along the underside of his shaft. He times his thrusts to match mine. I lean forward, giving him even more access, loving the feel of him stuffing my mouth with his cock, the feel of his balls slapping my chin.

  Another choking sound and then he’s fucking my mouth harder, deeper, faster. I’d grin in triumph if I could, but instead I revel in the feel of him, letting him slide down my throat.

  Impossibly, another orgasm builds inside me.

  The more the pressure builds, heat pooling at my core, the faster I pump my hips. My man keeps up with my tempo. How I’m holding it together at all with all these sensations slamming into me from all sides is a freaking miracle.

  Fuck this is so hot. Hotter than I’d fantasized about even.

  A tingling sets off at the base of my spine and deliberately I hollow out my cheeks, sucking him hard. My orgasm crashes into me, bursting outward like the Big Bang and spreading through every cell in my body, taking over.

  His cock swells in my mouth. He gives a long, shuddering moan and his hot come fills my throat in spurts that I swallow eagerly, the taste of him salty on my tongue. I wish I could see his face. Instead, I picture Zach, hard jaw clenched, eyes fixated on me as he comes and comes for me because I drove him to it.

  Finally, he pulls out of my mouth and drops to his knees. He lifts me, cradling me against his body, setting me in his lap. We stay that way for several long moments, him holding me, his breathing still heavy, blowing through my hair.

  I melt against him. Most guys aren’t into holding and cuddling, and since this night was supposed to be about sex, I didn’t put it on my list. But my heart trips happily along as he seems content to sit here for minute. I lift my hand to his face, his scruff prickly under my palm, and try to convey how much I appreciate this moment through that simple touch alone.

  He turns his head and presses the sweetest kiss into my palm, and my heart hitches.

  Wait. Are we done? I don’t want to be done. Catch my breath, yes. But done? No way. Disappointment slithers through me at the thought he might be ready to walk away.

  “More?” I whisper.

  His chest heaves against me in what I hope is a silent laugh and not a sigh.

  My man scoops me up in his arms and stands. Big, strong arms. I allow my hands to explore the rippling muscles of his chest as he walks us through my apartment. Damn this guy is in shape, just like I’d pictured Zach would be, all hard ridges and strength. He sets my feet down, catching me as I sway a bit, disoriented. Then lets me go. Where are we? The kitchen? Bathroom maybe?

  The sound of a window nearby being opened is followed by a burst of sound from the people down below.

  Oh. My. God.

  He’s going for the most X-rated fantasy on the list I gave him. The thrill of getting caught. Of being seen. My apartment building sits on a fairly busy street, but my unit faces the well-lit alley and neighboring building out back. From my window, I can see into the apartments of my across-the-alley neighbors, as well as watch the steady trickle of people who walk through the alley to reach the restaurants and bars and shops out front.

  I shiver, unsure if it’s with trepidation or anticipation. I’d asked to do it against the glass, inside, with the lights off. Risky, but not too risky. But with the window open, the possibility of being heard and seen…

  He picks me up again, and the hot summer breeze slides across my sensitized body, the noise of the outside increasing. Anyone across or below might hear me, see me, and know I’m being well and truly fucked by this man, who I’ve decided is a sex god.

  Okay, I like that idea. Let them watch. Maybe even get off themselves.

  He sets me down again. With a gentle touch, he lowers my head, pushing me forward, and I realize he’s leaning me out through the window, my upper body—my breasts—completely outside. Holy shit. Firm hands grip my wrists and place my hands against the railing of the fire escape, just above waist height. He curves my fingers around the metal, almost like he’s telling me to hold on tight. He spreads my legs wide and kisses me on each ass cheek before his hands leave me again.

  What now? Is he going to just leave me out here?

  A tinkling sound I can’t quite place reaches me, and then his hands are on me again. I gasp at the feel of his calluses against my skin—this man uses his hands and his body on a daily basis. Like earlier, he teases me with feathery strokes of those hands, following each caress with his mouth, his tongue, his teeth.

  Suddenly, a new sensation jolts my body into overdrive.

  Ice.

  He’s using ice on me. That was the tinkling sound, ice in a glass. He slides it up my spine, licking the melted water as he goes, and I hum, biting my lips. I’m trying so hard to be quiet, because, you know, people might hear.

  Then he wraps around me from behind. All those muscles against me, hot and hard, his thick cock pressing into my ass, but I’m focused more on his hands. He brings them around the front and presses two ice cubes to my nipples.

  I suck in a hard breath as he rubs me with them, circling my areolae and then back to the tips. The sensations of hot and cold are hijacking my system. His lips find my neck, kissing and sucking, then up to my ear for the same.

  His hands trail the ice down my stomach, his warm body following suit. Holy hell, is he going to… Yes. Ice circles my clit in a deliciously slow glide I feel from covered eyes to bare feet. I’m going to have to rethink my dislike of winter, because this feels incredible.

  Then he delves lower, tracing my folds. I gasp, opening my legs wider for him. An invitation he accepts by sliding the ice into my pussy, pushing the cubes up and in with his finger.

  I sag against the windowsill and whimper, wanting more—more fingers, more of his body heat, more ice, his cock…I have no idea what I want—but he just slips his finger out. Water trickles down the inside of my thighs as the ice melts, and my body begins to shake, flashing hot and cold, unable to keep up with all the stimulation. I can barely stay upright I’m trembling so hard with need.

  My man stands back up and puts his palm in the center of my back, pushing me lower. What do I look like to him? I’m white-knuckling the rail, ass in the air. My pussy is wet from the melted ice and my own juices dripping down the inside of my legs. My body is just begging for him to take me.

  Please let it be hard. I need hard. I need him inside me. Now.

  The sound of a condom wrapper sends a zing of anticipation up my spine. I register pressure at my entrance, and then he leans forward and whispers, “Shhhh…”

  Before I can process what he means, he grabs me by the hips and slams into my body, balls-deep. My orgasm is immediate with an edge of pain that I welcome. I see white behind my blindfold and only barely manage not to scream my release, even as I imagine Zach’s deep, gravelly voice growling my name in my ear.

  He’s not done, though. Before I can catch my breath, he begins driving into me at a punishing pace, pounding my body straight into another silent orgasm. It’s so intense, I think maybe I’m dead, because all of my senses sort of black out at once before returning with a whoosh.

  When the crazy sensations start to ebb, my man—Zach, my lust-addled mind supplies—slows his onslaught, gentling his thrusts. Then, without warning, he slides out of my body and carries me off to…somewhere I can’t see. Oh, okay. My couch. In an instant he’s back between my legs, sliding deep.

  He feels so damn good inside me. So right. His hard cock makes me feel full and tight, and the pressure is the most wonderful thing I’ve ever experienced.

  He sets a slow, steady rhythm, and I wrap my legs around him. The change in position allows him to slide in deeper, and our moans blend together. His lips trail all over my neck and cheeks. My forehead. His hands explore my body, not leaving an inch of me untouched.

  Especially my breasts. He pays them particular attention—plucking and licking and sucking like he can’t get enough of them.

  The pressure in my core starts to build again. I’m so overwhelmed I can’t breathe, but it just keeps going.

  He keeps going.

  Thick and hard and hot inside me.

  He trails his lips back up my neck and across my cheeks. His hands slide up into my hair, his body fully covering mine, giving my desperate hands access to his back, his tight ass, and those glorious arms. I devour the feel of his skin like a starving woman, committing every dip and valley to memory.

  I think he knows, because he murmurs his approval and presses a soft kiss to the ticklish place behind my ear.

  Feeling emboldened, I reach for his hair. He stills when my fingers slide into the soft, thick strands that are barely long enough to grab hold of.

  This is personal, I realize too late. A piece of who he is I probably shouldn’t see, even with my hands. But rather than pull away or respond negatively, he leans into my touch, a rumble vibrating from his chest into mine.

  My heart stutters to a stop, because I don’t need the words to understand. He likes me knowing him, even in this small way.

  When is the last time a man cared enough to let me know him?

  Tears prick my eyes. Never, in my entire life, have I felt as cherished as I have with this complete stranger. A stranger whose only job is to fuck me senseless—which he’s doing a marvelous job of—but there’s more going on here. I’m afraid his unique brand of tenderness and desperate need will be my undoing.

  He nuzzles into my neck, covering my skin in hot, openmouthed kisses, and resumes those slow, devastatingly gentle thrusts.

  And when he kisses my eyelids through the blindfold, my heart cracks.

  To hell with anonymity. I need to see him. I need to see him. With frantic movements, I reach for my blindfold, determined to yank it off and find out who’s in the process of destroying me for other men, and where the hell Kristen has been hiding him.

  Please be Zach, my traitorous heart whispers, but I shut that down before the thought can take root. Fantasizing is one thing. Actually fucking the guy I’ve been crushing on and can’t have is another altogether. I don’t think I’d survive.

  Except I’ll never know, because he wraps his hand around my wrist, stilling me, stopping me from breaking the rules. He ups the rolling tempo of his hips until I’m too swamped by sensation to argue. His cock is impossibly hard inside me, and he picks up speed, groaning with every thrust. My moans mingle with his, and nothing has ever sounded—or felt—more right.

  His body tenses over me and I’m so close. So very close. He must know because he cants his hips, hitting a new spot deep inside that hurls me back over the edge. I moan long and loud, not caring that my window is still open, or that my neighbors now know exactly what I’m doing. My man presses his forehead to mine, and in any other scenario, I know—I know—he’d be right there to swallow my moan with his mouth.

  Fucking rules.

  But we’re still not done here. The aftershocks of my orgasm are milking his cock, pulsing around him, and he grows thick inside me. Suddenly, he jerks upright, pulling out. There’s the sound of snapping latex and then he’s roaring his release, shooting ropes of hot come all over my chest.

  Just like I asked him to.

  Everything about the moment is hot as fuck. I melt deeper into the couch, completely satiated, so relaxed I can barely keep my eyes open, and half in love with a man I’ve never seen. Except, in my imagination, I have met this man and this man is Zach. I wish I could have felt him come inside me. No condom. Filling me with his seed until I overflow, then dragging me back to his apartment to do it all over again.

  Holy shit, good sex has scrambled my brain.

  I bet he’s a good cuddler.

  The sappy thought jars me back into the present. Dammit. This was one of my concerns. I’m not a casual sex kind of girl, and I’m letting my heart get involved.

  I should put a stop to this now. Send him home. My body is replete and spent, and there’s no way I could handle more anyway.

  He rumbles low in his chest and trails a fingertip through the come on my belly. I assume he’s admiring his handiwork, but no. He curls over me and presses that finger to my lips. I frown. Does he want me to lick it clean? Or is he shushing me?

  Neither, because he kisses me, his finger the only thing keeping our mouths from full contact. I gasp the neediest sound I’ve ever heard myself make and grab his rock-hard biceps, but he only smiles against his finger, then pulls back to kiss the tip of my nose.

  Damn me and my own rules.

  But this much is clear: I want more. Not right away. I just…don’t want this to be it.

  Despite the warning bells going off in my head, I blurt out a completely foolish request. “Will you…come back tomorrow night?”

  He stills. I bite my lip, holding my breath as he says nothing. Does nothing.

  Oh God. I just made it awkward and horrible. I chew at my lower lip. The best night of my entire life, and I’ve ruined it with one stupid sentence. I knew the rules, dammit. I came up with the damn rules. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut and been happy with—

  His hand wraps around my wrist. Gently, he places my palm against his cheek. His jaw clenches under my touch, but he…nods.

  Happiness bursts through me in giddy bubbles. Way more bubbles than I should allow. But I can’t bring myself to worry about that right now, because I’m blazingly happy and gloriously sated and deliciously sore in places I didn’t know had nerves.

  And he’s picking me up, carrying me in what I think is the direction of the bathroom for more.

  6

  ZACH

  I must be out of my fucking mind.

  Ryssa is practically asleep, and no wonder after the sexual Olympics we just completed.

  After I lost control of myself and damn near kissed her, we tackled some more items on her list, including an erotic bath where I had her get herself off with the removable showerhead while sucking my cock. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the image of those lips around my dick. She kept spraying hot water into her mouth before taking me back inside, making her tongue feel like warm velvet around me.

  I reciprocated by biting each and every one of those rhinestones from her skin, then turned my teeth to her clit and tortured her until she screamed.

  I love how on the outside, she appears to be this innocent, naive woman, but behind closed doors she is insatiable and demanding and up for anything I throw at her.

  I glance at the clock and shake my head. It’s two in the morning. We’ve been at this for hours.

  I’ve been fucking Ryssa for hours.

  And loving every fucking second. I’ve never gone this hard, this long, or this many times, and I want more. She’s an addiction. I’m nowhere near ready to give this—her—up.

  I pick Ryssa up and carry her to the bedroom, fully intending to tuck her in and let her sleep.

  As I stand, she snags me by the wrist. “Stay?”

  I hesitate, and she must feel it because she frowns. “Just for a little bit?”

  It’s way out of the bounds of our agreement, but so is a second night.

  How could I say no to something I want just as much?

  Lifting the sheet, I slide in beside her. She immediately curls into me, and when she peppers my chest with tiny kisses, something inside me clenches.

  “You’re probably not into cuddling,” she murmurs. “Most guys aren’t.”

  I’m not allowed to talk, so I do the only think I can think of. I trace the letters N-O on the soft skin of her belly, the O going around her navel.

  Ryssa cocks her head, and I can practically hear the gears of that sharp brain whirling. “No?” she asks. She figured out what I was doing. I shouldn’t be surprised.

  “You like to cuddle?” she asks.

  With her? I slowly trace Y-E-S over her skin, raising goose bumps that make me smile.

  Her lips tip up. Tentatively, she reaches up and runs her fingers through my hair. Once again, the touch isn’t sexual, it’s…caring. My heart pounds, heavy in my chest. I lean into her, and she chuckles and increases the pressure. “Mmm. I guess you do.”

  After another second of her hypnotic hands in my hair, she breathes a contented sigh. “I like this game.”

  I do, too. But it could get dangerous.

  “Do you do this often?” Her question is sleepily voiced, but with enough hesitation that I can tell she’s wondering if she should ask.

  N-O.

  She nibbles at her lips. “Am I the first you’ve tried this with?”

  Does she really want to know? Isn’t this supposed to be anonymous? Still, I can’t lie to her. Y-E-S.

  “Is there anything we haven’t done that you want to try?” Now she’s sassy, and I see teasing in her sleepy grin.

  Y-E-S. I draw it extra big, and she giggles, the sound going straight to my dick, but also straight to my heart.

  “Good,” she breathes. Then gives a big yawn, settling into my arms.

  She’s wiped out, and I should be, too, but my mind is spinning. Dangerous doesn’t begin to cover what’s happening between me and Ryssa. Only she doesn’t know it’s me.

  What the hell should I do about that?

  For now, I just hold her, memorizing the feel of her in my arms in case I don’t get another chance. Once her breathing settles, I force myself out of the bed. Unable to stop myself from touching that incredible skin, I trail my hand down the side of her face. She turns her head and kisses my fingertip. Then she smiles and sighs, snuggling into the blankets.

 

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