Scandalized

I want to start at the end, with his body inside mine, but I want, too, to slow time and get there in tiny increments. We haven’t even kissed yet and I’m sharply aware that I get this only one time in my life. Not just this night with Alec Kim but this kind of night ever, this kind of sex where there aren’t rules, there’s no emotional fallout, there’s only the intensity of need that seems to expand now that we’re touching.

I turn my head, urging his mouth to mine. He groans at the contact and my legs nearly give out. His soft candy lips, firm touch, that cherry-pout mouth sucking at my bottom lip, nudging me open with a sigh. He tastes like whiskey and kisses like he’s already fucking, with growl and heat. Alec Kim isn’t here to mess around.

He reaches down, bunching the hem of my dress in his hands and drawing it up my body and over my head, tossing it into a red puddle at our feet. Reaching back, he flicks the clasp of my bra and slides it down my arms before discarding it somewhere to the side, his eyes fixed on my naked skin.

I have nowhere to go, but when he takes a step back to look down the length of me, naked and pressed against the wall, I wouldn’t move even if I could. I’ve never seen this degree of unmasked lust on a man’s face before.

He braces one hand on the wall beside my head and with the other reaches forward, gently pulling my hair loose from the makeshift bun. It spills, soft and cool, over his hands, over my shoulders. Alec slowly draws his index finger down my throat, between my breasts, and along my stomach. My nipples are hard, a blush crawling down my neck and across my chest. Biting his lip, Alec watches his fingers slide up over my ribs, cupping my breast, and then he bends, opening his mouth and closing it around the peak.

At the wet slide of his tongue, I feel the first sound tear out of me, my hands going to his hair, fists forming around the silken weight of it. He sucks and then drags his teeth over my nipple, sending his other hand down my back and around the curve of my ass.

Digging my hands between us, I tug the hem of his shirt from his dress pants and unbutton it from the bottom up, pushing it away from his chest so I can get my hands on him. He’s warm and solid under my palms: his smooth chest, ribs that contract and expand under the pace of his breathing, the lean line of his waist. When he pulls my body into his, the first sensation of his skin on mine is obliterating. Whatever patience he was able to muster is gone as he wrestles his arms out of his shirt, throwing it onto the floor.

Alec grasps my hips, turning and walking me backward with his mouth working up my neck until we collide with the arm of the couch. Laughing against my throat, he lifts me up, wrapping my legs around his waist.

“Bedroom?” he asks.

I nod, sending my arms around his shoulders, kissing the sweet heat of his neck, biting down the unreal length of it, sucking my way back up.

He walks us down the hall, into the bedroom, holding me until my back hits the mattress and he rests over me. Pulling my leg higher up over his hip, he dry-fucks me with slow, hard thrusts, his mouth working along my jaw and collarbone, hand finding its way from my waist to my breast where he squeezes, plumping me for his tongue, his body bending to suck me deep. I have too many thoughts to sort and let them fly through me unfiltered. The wet slide of his tongue around my nipple. The heat and suction of his full lips over my breasts. The hard press of him between my legs and how wet I am and how it’s going to be all over his clothes.

He slows his tongue into lazy circles; his hips slow, too, and he finally pushes up onto his arms, looking down at me. “You okay?”

“I’m perfect.” My exhaustion fell away with my clothes. Sleep is the last thing I want right now. I run my hand up from his stomach to his chest and can feel his heart under there, pounding. “Are you?”

“Yeah, I just—” He nods, dropping his head. “I never get this.”

I laugh, drawing spirals on his chest. “Alexander Kim, I have a very hard time believing that.”

“No—I mean—like this,” he says. “I should take my time.” He studies my mouth. “Three hours ago I wanted to just be at my hotel in LA. Now I want tonight to last a week. It’s never like that anymore. Being with someone—it’s always so loaded.”

Sinking my teeth into my lower lip, I stare up at him. I think I know what he means; it’s true for me, too. For the first time in a long time, sex can just be sex, but that doesn’t make it meaningless, either. Sliding my hand around his neck, I pull him down for a kiss.

It’s slower this time, deep and claiming, and he cups my jaw with his hand, his thumb stroking just next to where our mouths move together in such a natural way. Now that we’re in bed, it feels like we have an eternity. I sense the cocktail of giddiness and devastation brewing in my blood; I know what he means when he says he wants this night to last a week.

Alec pulls back, kneeling between my legs, pushing my knees apart, and resting back on his heels. In any other lifetime I would be conscious of the fact that we’ve spent barely two hours together, that I’m naked and he’s staring down at this part of my body that only two other men have ever seen. Neither of them ever really looked the way he is right now, too. But his expression wipes away any question I have that he wants this just as much as I do. I feel him shift his attention to my face while I watch his hand slide up my shin and over my knee. Silently, I send a quick thank-you to the universe for hotel razors. He smooths his palm up my thigh, and everything inside me grows tight in anticipation. With a quiet groan, he glides the pad of his thumb between my legs, from where I’m wet, up over the small rise that makes me want to scream in pleasure.

He exhales a curse, circling my clit with his thumb. Looking down at what he’s doing, he whispers, “You’re so soft.”

I lift my hips, seeking, needing more than this glancing touch, and he grins, twisting his wrist and slowly sliding two fingers into me. I nearly go airborne, surging from the bed, back arched, reaching down to grip the sheets in my fists. He rises over me, sliding his mouth over mine, his tongue teasing in time with his fingers, and I feel drugged, like I’m in the middle of a wildly realistic dream and any second I might wake up coming. When I reach for his belt, he grunts into a kiss, pushing his hips into my hands.

His belt falls to the side, and I work the button and zipper free before greedily digging in, moaning at the solid weight of him, distractedly shoving his pants and briefs down his thighs. He kicks them down and off and, struggling to keep his fingers from leaving my body, laughs into a preoccupied kiss.

When I open my eyes to gauge his expression, I find him already looking down at me. The spontaneous smile that takes over both our faces makes my chest squeeze so tightly I lose my breath. I watch the same overwhelmed relief I felt earlier pass over his face when I wrap my hand around his cock, stroking up and back down.

His lips offer silent encouragement as he nods, nostrils flared.

This is mine, I think. For tonight at least, you’re mine.

Alec is so hard the skin stretches impossibly tight around the tip; it makes my mouth water. He swallows thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing, lips parted as his breathing grows sharper, more broken. With someone new I’d normally be questioning everything I’m doing—is the pressure right, are we going too fast—but tonight there’s none of that. I’m not sure if it’s the way he looks like he’s already struggling to hold on or how hard he is in my hand, but everything about this feels like it’s happening exactly the way it was meant to. His body is defined and smooth, skin glistening with a hint of sweat. I want to feel him moving in every part of me, want the salt of him on my tongue and the entire length of him shoved deep in me, but just imagining how his hand looks on me and in me makes pleasure rise like steam beneath my skin.

I fuck his hand; he fucks my fist. Our kisses grow messy and distracted by pleasure. I keep thinking we’ll stop this and move on to the next thing—if we only have one night, shouldn’t I taste him? Shouldn’t he kiss me between my legs? Maybe we’ll transition to actual mind-bending sex. But even with only our hands it’s better than any sex I’ve had before; I’m so close to the feeling of falling, of coming so hard I worry I’ll wake everyone on the twenty-sixth floor.

“I want to feel you come on my hand,” he says, gasping when my body seizes around him. “On my fingers.”

I’m not far off, and neither is he, I don’t think. My eyes fall closed and he rests his lips on mine, telling me, I’m close, I’m close, and then his words break into filthy, broken phrases that send heat streaking up my neck.

It’s like having pleasure uncorked inside me, spilling everywhere into my blood, and the way my heart is beating, it immediately spreads to every single part of my body, down every fingertip. With a relieved cry, I come on his fingers, clenching around the deep shove of them. He tells me he knows—I can feel you coming—and my desperate unraveling seems to turn everything over in him. With a deep grunt, he follows in a warm pulse against my hip, his teeth bared against my jaw.