K. Bromberg: Hard Beat

We stumble through the stairwell door into the hallway without breaking physical contact. I keep moving her backward as her hands slide beneath my shirt and singe the bare skin at my waist with their warmth. We manage the few feet to my door, and I struggle with getting the key from my pocket because my jeans are stretched so goddamn tight from my dick, hard and ready.

I’m cursing between heated kisses, wishing this third world country had those credit card thingies versus an actual key, because my senses are so focused elsewhere that it takes a minute for me to get the key in the hole.

Once I get the door open and then shut it behind us, everything happens in flashes of time. Hands pulling our shirts overhead, feet kicking shoes off, my mouth kissing her exposed neck, fingers undoing her bra and tossing it to the floor. Take, sate, taste are the only thoughts on my mind.

The room’s completely dark except for the light of the moon coming in through the open curtains. When she fists my hair in her hands to hold me immobile, I have no other option but to feast on the expanse of flesh from the curve of her neck down to her breasts. Her taste, her scent, the sounds she makes; I feel like I will never get enough of her.

“I still don’t like you,” she says, her quiet murmur turning to a gasp as I close my mouth over her hard nipple. The sound of the effect I have on her, the scent of her perfume in the dip of her cleavage, and the taste of her skin on my tongue are like a sensory aphrodisiac that grabs hold of my balls and doesn’t let go.

The reverberation of my chuckle gets absorbed by her skin as I flick my tongue over her tightened peak before grazing it with my teeth. I don’t care if she likes me or hates me right now because it feels like it’s been so damn long since I’ve had sex. My only thought, my sole focus, is the heat of the moment and losing myself to the all-consuming euphoria of getting off. I know that makes me an asshole, but I’ve never pretended to be anything else in the whole ten minutes we’ve known each other – so at least I can’t be accused of pretending to be something I’m not.

The bed’s only a few feet from the door, and the back of her knees hit it. My body bent at the waist, my mouth continues to taste and tempt as she lowers herself to the bed so that she’s sitting and I’m standing. And fuck, I thought I was doing pretty damn good on restraint until she unzips my cargo pants and her chilled hands slide inside. The contrast of her cold hands on my rock-hard dick paralyzes me momentarily because, damn, it feels fucking fantastic.

And shit, I’m a guy who’s all about foreplay. I love teasing a woman with my fingers, tongue, toys, and anything on hand so that I can bring her to the brink of coming, then ease back some so that she begs me for more in that strained moan women have that calls to the animalistic part of me, before I dive back in to make her body tighten and pussy pulse. Only then do I usually jacket up and slide into the wetness I’ve helped create.

But right now? I’m all about the endgame. So when her hands begin to stroke me with a measured pressure that’s equal parts strong and slow, I straighten up, let my head fall back, and lose myself in the sensations that are pulling me way too fucking quick to the edge.

The best part is this is a one-night stand. I don’t have to worry about misconstrued intentions or even speaking at all because we both know what we’re here for. And with my thoughts fractured a thousand different ways, this is perfect. Just what I need. A night of sweaty, gritty sex without promises. A hot and willing woman who will most likely evade my gaze when we pass each other in the lobby, and that’s just fine with me.

I lose myself to her touch, but the tension builds so goddamn fast. It pains me to put my hands on my shoulders and stop her as I step back. “Fuck,” I say, part groan from her stopping the motion, part verbal acknowledgment of what she’s doing to me.

And if the smirk on her face, the flush of her cheeks, and her budded nipples weren’t enough to taunt me, the laugh she emits does just that. I meet her eyes then, and it’s a mutual exchange of our consent of what’s about to happen despite her continued commentary on how much she dislikes me.

A split second passes, and then both of us are stripping off the remainder of our clothes in a riotous frenzy. I move to the cheap dresser in the room and pull out a condom, feeling like time is of the essence. When I turn around again, I’m staggered by the sheer beauty of the woman waiting for me. BJ is lying back on the bed, the lean lines of her naked body looking like an ocean of flesh and curves that I can’t wait to sink into. She’s let down her hair so that it fans in soft waves around her head like a black halo against the sheets.

“See something you want, Pulitzer?” I startle at the nickname. It throws me for a second until I refocus on her open invitation. Her confidence is so damn attractive and confusing all at once, but who the fuck cares because the trim strip of hair on her pussy calls to me so that my mouth waters and my dick begs for the feeling of her beneath me.

When I walk to the edge of the bed, I have the satisfaction of watching her eyes widen as they travel down to take in my cock, and while I’m above average, it’s still a stroke to my ego to see her reaction. “I have a lot of wants, so right now I’m going to take the one thing I need. You think you can handle me?”

Her laugh is deep and rich and drowns out the sounds floating up from the street. It turns into an unexpected giggle that sounds like such a contradiction to her haughty remarks when I grab her ankles and pull her down in a sharp tug to the end of the bed. The heat of her pussy presses against my upper thighs and holy fucking hell, all coherent thoughts leave me because the sexual need within me takes over.

I grip her hips and pull her toward me at the same time I bend my knees so that our bodies meet in the most carnal of ways with her backside a few inches off the mattress. I grab a pillow from behind her with one hand while holding her up with the other and slide it beneath her ass. The minute she relaxes her hips, I line my dick up at her entrance and rub my head through her wetness, so damn turned on by her being aroused and ready that my balls tighten in anticipation.

My gaze travels up the length of her torso to where her hands are palming her breasts, the dark pink of her nipples visible between her spread fingers. Her teeth bite into her lower lip, and she looks up to me beneath thick lashes so that all I can see is the gleam in her eyes.

When I brush my thumb over her clit and stroke it a few times, adding friction as I push into her, the sensation of taking her is so intense, it makes the motion of my hand falter, and we each release a moan as we absorb that first-time connection.

“So good.” My voice is a low moan, and I’m so lost in the feeling of her hot pussy wrapped tight around my dick that I forget the first part of the sentence, intending to tell her you feel , but at this point, fuck correcting myself because I can’t think straight. She’s wet, I’m hard, and I’ll take this welcome back. I slide slowly all the way in, root to tip, and hold still so that she can adjust to me. My head falls back in ecstasy as her muscles grip me tightly, a silent urging to stroke her clit again.

And then I begin to move.

Desire roars to an inferno inside me with each slow withdrawal and then sharp plunge back into the depths of her pleasure. My God. Between the moan that falls from her lips, the way she lifts her hips up each time I thrust back in that squeezes around my cock, and the feel of her wetness at the top of my shaft that teases me… fuck. It’s like a goddamn roller coaster of sensation that’s climbing up to that inevitable drop I know is coming, but I’m trying to close my eyes and fight the release.