The Stranger, page 19
“Sweetheart.”
Her gaze snaps back to me, and when I see the tears that are now streaming down her pretty face, I feel a lump rise in my throat. Her tears are my weakness. I hate seeing her upset.
I take a step forward, but this time she raises her arm. “Don’t.”
“You’re wanted. Please believe me … you have no idea how much.” I’m pretty sure I’ve wanted this woman since the moment I first laid eyes on her.
“Hah,” she scoffs. “Please stop blowing smoke up my arse. It’s only making me feel worse.”
This time, I don’t allow her to stop me from advancing. I close the distance between us in three long strides and grasp her petite shoulders, turning her so she’s fully facing me.
“Delilah,” I plead as my eyes bore into hers, “I’m not blowing smoke up your arse. Please believe me. I didn’t move you because I didn’t want you around … I did it because you were a temptation that I was struggling to resist.”
“Do you honestly expect me to believe that?”
“It’s the truth. I’ve been fighting these feelings I have for you from the very beginning. I want you … I want you so fucking much, it’s maddening. Do you know how hard it was for me to leave you standing outside this door and walk away after the night we kissed? Every inch of me wanted to carry you to my room and bury myself so deep inside I wouldn’t know where you ended and where I began. I wanted to live out all those impure thoughts I’ve been having in real time.”
“You’ve had impure thoughts about me?”
“Yes. I’ve even jacked off to images of you in the shower.”
Her eyes widen at my last admission. “You have?”
“More than once,” I confess.
I’m not proud of the things I’ve done, but if that’s what it is going to take for her to see what I’m saying is true, or to stop her from leaving, then so be it. I’ve denied myself, this, for far too long, and finally, I’ve reached the end of my rope.
I can’t keep doing it.
I can’t lose her.
I’m all in.
My hands move from her shoulders down to her waist, tugging her closer. “I want you, Delilah,” I whisper as my mouth inches closer to hers. “I want you so damn much it hurts.”
She draws her face back as her flattened palms move up to my chest. “Spencer.”
My gaze flickers from her soft, plump lips I’m aching to kiss, up to meet her pretty blue eyes. “Yes?”
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I’ve never been surer in my life.”
“I swear to God, if you kiss me right now and then decide tomorrow it was a mistake, I’m going to knee you in your old man balls.”
I bark out a laugh and my cock hardens, because that damn mouth of hers turns me on. “I can assure you, sweetheart, other than being a tad blue, my balls are perfectly fine.”
She pushes up onto the tip of her toes as her hands move from my chest to slide around my neck. “Kiss me, Mr Prescott,” she breathes, and I lose my last resolve.
This time, I plan on doing more than kissing.
I’m finally going to take what I want.
I’m claiming her.
I’m keeping her.
I’m going to make this woman mine once and for all.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, forgive me for what I’m about to do.
The moment my lips crash into hers, she moans into my mouth. My hands move from her waist, sliding down to that delicious, peachy arse of hers, palming those sweet cheeks.
“Fuck,” I groan as I lift her off the ground and manoeuvre her to the closest wall. The tight skirt is hindering her from wrapping her legs around my waist, so I grip that tiny split in the back—the one that’s been taunting me for weeks—and without much effort on my part, I tear it along the seam and don’t stop until I reach the resistance of the waistband.
I’m half expecting her to complain about the destruction of her clothing, but she doesn’t. Like the good girl she is, her legs move to wrap around my waist as the heels of her feet press into my arse cheeks, drawing me closer.
I’ll buy her a replacement tomorrow … I’ll buy her the damn world if she lets me.
Delilah tugs on the short strands of hair on the back of my head and deepens the kiss when I roll my hips forward, grinding against her. I need to touch her. I don’t want a repeat of last time. This time when I blow, I’m going to be buried balls deep inside her.
I manoeuvre my hand between us, and dip the tips of my fingers inside the crotch of her underwear, sliding them through her slick heat. I growl into her mouth when I feel how wet she is for me.
“Spencer,” she moans, jutting her slim hips forward, and all I can think is my name falling from her mouth in that breathy tone has never sounded sweeter.
The pad of my thumb moves up to circle her swollen nub, which causes her to whimper into my mouth. When the tip of my forefinger slips inside her snug pussy, my rock-hard cock throbs behind the zipper of my trousers. I hope I don’t embarrass myself again.
She’s so tiny I’m going to need to get her ready for me. The last thing I want to do is hurt her. Our size difference could pose a problem, but just thinking about sinking inside her tight heat has me on the verge of pre-ejaculation.
I slip my finger in deeper, moving it in a circular motion, stretching her as much as I can. When I add a second digit, she pulls out of the kiss and tilts her head back. Those pretty lips of hers part on a wanton cry. When I sink in further, scissoring my fingers and applying more pressure to her clit, she arches her back, calling out my name again.
I love how her body reacts to my touch, and I can only hope that Sandra has left because there would be no mistaking what is going on in here if she hasn’t.
It only takes a few more swipes of my thumb before I feel her inner muscles contracting around my fingers as she comes all over my hand. My balls tighten as her movements bring me closer to losing my load in my pants for a second time, because all I can picture is driving myself deep inside her as her spasms tightly constrict around my cock.
I take a step away from the wall, bringing her with me. I spy her bed cluttered with an open suitcase and most of her wardrobe before deciding to move this to my bedroom. I’m desperate to lay her out so I can devour every inch of her delectable body.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
“My room.”
“Oh.”
If I have my way, we won’t be leaving it for the rest of the afternoon.
Chapter 27
Delilah
Irest my cheek on Spencer’s shoulder as he walks us down the corridor with long purposeful strides. I’m still pulsing between my legs and eager for more. But God, does this man give me whiplash. Ten minutes ago, I was in the depths of despair, and now I’m floating in a sedated post-orgasmic bliss. Talk about a plot twist I did not see coming. I thought we were over, done for … kaput.
My poor, fragile heart is at risk here, so I swear to everything that is holy if he tries to backtrack after this, his old-man balls will not be the only thing on the line. I’ll literally smother him with a pillow in his sleep.
When we reach his room, he gently lays me on top of his covers and gazes down at me from the side of the bed. Leaning in, he places his hands on either side of my head on the mattress, caging me in.
“The filthy things I want to do to you, Miss St. James,” he murmurs as he brushes his lips with mine.
“I’m not opposed to you turning those words into actions.”
He barks out a laugh. “I don’t doubt that for a second, you little minx.”
He draws back slightly and I’m graced with one of those rare, full, toothy smiles, which has my heart rate kicking up a few notches. He’s way too gorgeous for words. I’m almost afraid to imagine that one day I may be able to call this beautiful man mine.
His lips brush mine one more time before he pushes off the bed and stands to full height. That’s when I notice the huge tent in his trousers. I’ve only seen one penis in my lifetime, but I can already tell that Kayne’s is no comparison to the monstrosity in Spencer Prescott’s pants.
I’m a little scared of it if I’m being honest.
His hand moves to my hip, as he pops open the button of my now-ruined skirt, which I’m surprisingly not upset about. The way he effortlessly tore it open was off-the-charts hot.
He slides down the zip before tugging it over my hips, and along my legs before tossing it on the floor. He moves to my blouse next, and once he has those buttons undone, he pushes the fabric to the side so he can stare down at his handiwork.
A low growl rumbles in the back of his throat as his eyes skim over my adequately sized, lace-covered breasts before moving south over my toned stomach, pausing when he reaches the junction of my thighs.
“You’re perfect,” he murmurs as his fingertip retraces the path his eyes just took. The subtlety of his touch has my skin pebbling with goose bumps.
Pulling myself up onto my elbows, I observe his every move. A shudder runs down the length of my spine when his tongue skims over his bottom lip.
“Are you going to stand there gaping, or are you going to do all the filthy things you promised?” I ask innocently, batting my eyelids at him.
He groans as he palms his dick through his trousers. “This image of you is going straight to the top of my spank bank. The real deal has nothing on my imagination.”
One day I hope I get to watch him pleasure himself. Just the thought has moisture flooding my underwear. “You’re wearing too many clothes, Mr Prescott,” I say, pushing myself up into a sitting position.
I grasp his belt and my eyes lock with him as I tug him a little closer to unbuckle it. His hands move up and go to work on the buttons of his shirt, and I almost swallow my tongue when he shrugs out of it, revealing the tanned, sculptured abs that are hidden underneath.
He is flawless.
I’m tempted to lean in and lick him, but I’ll save that for another time … when I feel more comfortable. This is all still new.
I can’t believe I’m about to undress my boss’s boss. Moving to the button on his trousers, I pop it open. The zipper is next, and he groans when my fingers brush over his erection as I drag it down.
He takes a step back. “Let me do that,” he protests. “If you touch me again, I might embarrass myself.”
When he reaches for the waistband, I slap his hand away and scoot closer. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”
This time, he doesn’t fight me when I slide his trousers over his narrow hips, and my eyes track them as they slither down his legs and pool around his ankles. My gaze flicks back to his tight, black boxer briefs, and my mouth waters.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I look up at him through my lashes as my fingers curl around the thick white elastic on his briefs. They have Calvin Klein printed across the top. He could get a job modelling these if he ever leaves the IT business.
Holy moly.
I tug them down slightly, revealing the crown of his dick. It’s glistening with pre-cum, and this time, I can’t help myself. I lean in and run my flattened tongue over his slit.
“Sweet Jesus,” he growls as his hands disappear into my hair, tugging slightly.
I’m now yanking on his boxers until his cock springs free, revealing him in all his glory. Thick veins pulse beneath velvet skin. His wide head is now an angry, deep-purply pink colour. My free hand moves down to the base, gripping him, but he’s so wide my fingertips don’t even touch.
My mouth goes a little dry as I imagine him trying to fit that monstrosity inside me.
When my eyes snap up to meet his, he must sense the sheer panic I’m now feeling because he tenderly strokes his hand over my hair. “Relax, sweetheart,” he says. “There’s no rush, we have all the time in the world. I’ll make sure you’re ready for me. Okay?”
I nod my head once. “Okay.”
“I’ll be gentle … I promise,” he says, throwing my words back at me. “My job is to pleasure you, Delilah. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. We can move at your pace, and if at any time it gets too much, just say the word and I’ll stop.”
The person who stands before me is a real man. His selflessness, kind-heartedness, and consideration—of not just me, but everyone around him—is admirable. It’s not something I’m used to.
The day I lost my virginity still haunts me. Kayne was so focused on getting himself off, he seemed oblivious to the pain he was inflicting. It wasn’t the last time he’d hurt me either. He once stuck his dick in a place I never wanted him to, and I bled from that orifice for two days. He constantly made me feel like I was the problem … that I was doing him a disservice by not giving him what he wanted. Now I know he was getting it elsewhere, I can see what a huge red flag he was now.
Blinded by the person I thought I loved.
The anxiety I was feeling vanishes in an instant. I trust this man to do right by me. I know that much.
My hand is still wrapped around the base of his dick, so I stroke it once, twice, and when he rocks his hips forward and groans, I run my tongue around the tip before drawing it into my mouth.
“Delilah,” he breathes. “That’s it, sweetheart, take me in your mouth. Yes, just like that.”
His encouragement spurs me on. I may not be able to take all of him, but I use my lips, tongue, teeth, and hand to make it as enjoyable for him as I can. I was constantly critiqued when I did this in the past, so I have a fair idea of what he may like.
The gentle hypnotic rocking of his hips is contradictory to the tugging of my hair, or the grunts and groans that rumble in the back of his throat. He’s showing restraint, taking it easy on me like he promised.
I don’t want that.
I want him to let loose … to give me his all.
Sliding off the bed, I fall to my knees, taking him deeper into my mouth. So deep that my eyes water and I gag, but I don’t stop. The hand that’s wrapped around his base tightens as the other moves up to cup his heavy balls. I gently massage them between my fingers as my mouth works over his shaft.
Spencer’s grip on my hair increases as he widens his stance and violently throws his head back. A slew of profanities falls from his parted lips as he finally legs go, losing himself in the moment. “Fuck, Delilah … fuck. I’m going to blow.”
He tries to withdraw, but I don’t allow it. I want to finish what I started.
I feel the first burst of warm cum hit the back of my throat as his movements become jerky. His long, drawn-out groan pleases me. I love that it’s me making him feel like this. I won’t stop until I’ve taken every last drop.
When I finally release him from my mouth with a pop, he bends, slides his hands under my arms, and lifts me off the ground in one fluid motion. My legs wrap around his waist as his lips meet mine. The kiss he gives me is so deep, so passionate, my toes curl.
Once he’s had his fill of my mouth, he sits me down on the side of the mattress and pushes my open blouse down my arms. He unclasps my bra next and audibly growls when my bare breasts come into view.
Gently laying me back, he bends down to swirl his tongue around each hardened peak before palming them with his enormous hands. “So soft … so perfect,” he whispers against my skin.
His thumbs hook into the side of my underwear, and I watch him observe me as he slides them off. Once I’m naked, he drops to his knees.
His flattened palms hook under the back of my legs as he lifts them high in the air and spreads them wide. I feel my cheeks heat from being so exposed, but the desire I see in his eyes as he stares down at my most intimate part has me relaxing a little. There’s no judgement there. All I see is pure, unadulterated need.
I feel cherished … wanted.
“My turn,” he states before leaning in to blow warm air all over my sensitive nub. My body shivers and my hands fist in the bedsheets as the anticipation of his touch sends all my nerve endings into overdrive.
The moment his mouth connects, I arch my back off the bed and moan. His movements are gentle and precise at first, but once he amps it up, he eats me like a starved man and I’m a withering mess. I can tell by the noises he’s making that he’s enjoying this as much as I am, which only heightens my arousal. Kayne was always happy for me to pleasure him, but he made returning the favour seem like a chore.
Spencer manoeuvres my feet until they are resting on his shoulders, so he can freely slide one of his fingers deep inside me. My hands reach out to tangle in his hair, tugging on the strands as he sucks my clit into his mouth, pulsating it between his lips until I fall over the edge and scream out his name.
This orgasm seems to go on forever, and by the time I ride the last wave, I’m feeling light-headed.
When my legs are gently placed back on the floor, I lie there, unable to move. “You okay?” Spencer asks as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
My lips curve into a lazy smile. “I’m great.”
“Do you want to keep going, or do you need a timeout?”
“No, I want to keep going. Just let me get some feeling back in my legs first.”
He chuckles as he stands to toe off his shoes so he can step out of his trousers and remove his socks. He then lifts me and moves me into the centre of the bed. He’s still semihard and that monstrosity—that I’m still intimidated by—hangs heavily between his legs.
I turn my face to the side to watch him as he opens the drawer beside his bed and pulls out an entire strip of condoms. “That’s a little optimistic, don’t you think?”
“Not at all,” he answers with a smirk as he tears one off and captures it between his teeth, dropping the rest onto the bed beside me. His eyes are locked with mine as he climbs onto the mattress and crawls in my direction. His movements are predatory, making me feel like his prey. Hovering over me, he adds, “I may be over the hill in your eyes, Miss St. James, but you’re about to find out just how much stamina this thirty-two-year-old has.”
“I can’t wait.”
