Mr. Beautiful (Up in the Air 4)

"You know you can trust me, right?" he questioned, looking earnest.  "I'm sure you've heard awful things about me but . . . they aren't true.  I'm not a liar, and I don't spread gossip."

"I do trust you," I said simply.  And I found that I did.  I didn't know him well yet, but I knew enough.

He gave me the sweetest smile I'd ever seen.  "Thank you.  You—you're everything I wanted you to be, you know that?"

I couldn't hold back a grin.  "I'm not sure what to make of that."

"I've seen you before, though you didn't notice me.  I've watched you, and heard about you . . . fantasized about you.  I was hoping you were this great guy, and well, you are.  It makes me really happy."

That made me pretty happy, too.  He had a way of softening me, right from the start.

I wanted to, but I didn't last three dates before hooking up with him again.  Not even close.

I dropped off Bianca's takeout and walked him to his room.

Things got out of hand after that.

I meant just to kiss him goodnight on the cheek.  He turned his head and didn't catch my mouth so much as put his in my path.

Once we started kissing, I was done for.

I had one brief moment of almost sanity when I saw that he'd been prepared for this, that he'd planned for it, everything laid out, and I almost held back.

"I was hoping," he told me with a sweet smile and a sweeter kiss.  "I wasn't expecting.  Just hoping."

I nodded curtly and let him roll the condom on, my hands running over him, gripping into his hair, kneading at his flesh.  More than anything, I just wanted to touch him, to have full contact, skin on skin, but my control failed me in the face of his sweet, giving submission.

I backed him into his room and had him.  I bent him over a chair, jerking him off with my hand while I f**ked him from behind.

"I'm sorry," I breathed into his back when I'd buried myself to the hilt.  "I know I'm big.  I'm trying not to be rough."

His response was to moan and grind back against me.

I started moving, great heavy thrusts that he met beat for beat.

I let myself get rough with it when I saw that he could handle it, jamming into him at full strength, brutal jackhammer thrusts that made him hold on for dear life and cry out loudly.

I bit down at the straining tendon between his neck and shoulder as I kept up a punishing rhythm, hammering into him.

His c**k jerked in my hand, and he cried out.

I outlasted him, but not by much.  He was still spurting in my hand when I let myself go, ramming hard into him one last time as I came deep inside of him.

After, I peeled off the condom and tossed it in the trash, far from done.

I pushed him on his back on the bed and started kissing him, my hand still on his cock, pumping at him, enjoying the feel of him, even soft.

I wasn't soft.  I was ready to go again way too quickly, grinding myself between his legs, jabbing my tip against his sac as I thrust my tongue into his mouth.

"Oh God," he cried out, panting, his arms holding me to him like I was the answer to a prayer.

I couldn't get enough of him.  His sweet acceptance undid me.

I sat him up, pulled his thighs over mine, and lined our shafts up together, using his hand and mine to stroke us both into a frenzy, rubbing, stroking leisurely, then urgently, until we were spilling on each other, coming together.  I looked up to find him watching my face at the end, a look of rapt adoration on his.

I still hadn't had enough, and started kissing him again mid-ejaculation, rubbing myself against him as I devoured his mouth with mine.

I pulled back only long enough to catch my breath and started kissing his perfect body.  He was lean, but muscular; his skin a pale olive that I thought looked perfect under my sun browned hands.

He whimpered when I caught his growing erection in my mouth and started sucking.  I didn't stop, instead clamping down with my lips and going harder, crawling over his body until my own hardening length was pushing against his mouth.

I pushed my fingers into his back entrance while we sucked each other off.

I lay on my back and pulled him over my chest when we'd finished, stroking a hand over his soft hair, kissing his forehead, sated but with a stomach still alive with butterflies.

"Wow, just wow," he breathed, running his hands over me, turning his head to kiss my chest repeatedly.  "I've never . . . I never, um, that was amazing."

I smiled, my eyes closing, a feeling of utter contentment blooming to life, sheer delight working its way through me.  "Yes, it was."

I didn't even ask.  I just stayed the night in his room.

I noticed with the crew the next day that he changed in front of other people, became more stiff, less open.

It was like this with everyone, I would learn.

He was so different with me.  He gave me something distinctly unique from what he gave the rest of the world.  With me, he didn't hold back a thing.  He was more open, more honest, sweeter, better.

I fell for him.  Hard and fast.  As though I was too naive to know better, as though I was innocent instead of tarnished, I dove in headfirst.

He made me feel good about myself, like I was the missing piece of his puzzle, the one that made him fit right in his own skin.

In a perfect world, when you found the person that did that, that was it.  End of story.  Happily ever after.