Mr One-Night Stand

Fuck Colin—there was no way she was leaving. Not yet.

Desperately she dropped her hands to the hem of his sweatshirt, wanting it gone, needing him bare to her touch. She scrabbled it up his chest, felt his hands manoeuvre to do the same to her blouse, to pull it out of her skirt. She heard the faintest sound of tearing—his top, her blouse? She had no idea. She didn’t care.

‘That was Armani, you know.’ He chuckled against her, breaking his mouth free only long enough to deliver the words.

She ripped her own mouth away. ‘I couldn’t give a fuck.’

‘You will soon.’

He claimed her mouth again, his fingers working at the buttons of her blouse, and a frustrated sound gave way at the back of his throat.

He pressed her away, glaring down her front. ‘I hate buttons.’

And then his hands were on the parted fabric and he yanked at it hard, the buttons flying free as she gasped, his impatience flooding her belly with an excited rush as the fabric fell loosely around her shoulders.

His eyes burned into her exposed body. ‘I’ll buy you another.’

She shook her head. ‘I think it makes us even.’

She tugged his sweatshirt over his head and he took advantage of the move, bowing his head to her upper body as she pulled the sleeves from his arms, administering kisses, nips and sucks. His hands kneaded her above her bra, his attention urgent and driving her crazy. She tossed his top aside and forked her fingers through his hair, holding him against her.

‘Yes—God, yes!’ she cried, and he spun her, twisting away from the cabinet and bringing her up hard against the wall. She threw her head back into the hardness, her eyes closed as tension built like wildfire.

His fingers slipped around her back, finding the fastening to her skirt and doing away with it, shoving it down her legs. His head lowered with the move, down to the valley between her breasts, to her undulating belly, until his heated breath was sweeping her panties.

She felt his fingers flick open each suspender, his touch gently coaxing as he circled her thighs with each move. Her legs quivered with the thrill. And then his mouth was back, tracing a path down one leg as he slipped off one shoe and stocking and repeated the move with the other.

He was sending her clit into a frenzied state of need. Her wetness was slipping between her thighs, her whimpers heedless, her words nonsensical as she heard herself pleading with him to do something...anything.

And then his mouth answered, his tongue probing above her knickers, and she bucked into it, shamelessly riding his face in desperation. His hands slid up her hips, hooking beneath the lace of her thong and tugging it down.

It dropped to her ankles and he cupped one thigh, coaxing it over his shoulder, forcing her to use him and the wall for balance and part before him. And then his mouth was upon her, his tongue hitting the nested nerve-endings that were so desperate for him, and she lost sight of everything except the tension coiling through her limbs.

‘You taste so good,’ he rumbled against her, his fingers slipping up to tease against her opening. ‘So wet.’ He sucked on her clit and she bucked wildly. ‘So ready for me.’

He slid his fingers inside and the need to have him fill her, to have him inside her when she came, had her fingers clawing into his shoulders.

‘Marcus, fuck me.’

‘We have the whole night for that.’

‘But I want you in me,’ she rushed out. ‘Please, Marcus, now.’

He groaned, unhooking her leg as he shot to his feet, his hands moving roughly to her hair as he pulled her head back and locked their gazes together.

‘You have no idea what those words do to me, coming from your lips.’

She hooked her leg around him and pressed herself against his hardness. ‘I can feel what it does.’

He gave a jagged breath and she felt the rough seam of his jeans biting into her sensitive clit as she wriggled into him, finding her spot, finding a rhythm that soothed and built.

He released her head, his hands falling to curve around her hips, his eyes lowering to watch as she rode against him, and then he rasped, ‘Condom.’

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She gestured to the sofa. ‘My coat, my purse...’

It took a moment for her meaning to hit and then he swept away, back in seconds, her coat in his hand. She took it from him, shaking with pent-up need as she forced her hands to do her bidding, locating her purse, extracting the packet and tossing the rest away.