AM Hartnett - Holding My Breath

He pressed his mouth to her temple and whispered, ‘Tell me …’

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She was merely forming words without meaning anything. Words were something he conjured as he flexed his fingers inside her.

‘Let me hear it, Sonia.’

He went deep once more, then flicked his thumb across her clit.

She couldn’t keep silent any longer, nor could she keep her hands to herself. She pressed them to his chest and squeezed her legs around his hand.

‘I want you to call me Molly,’ she said, and ran her hands down the hair-wisped surface of his chest. ‘That’s my name.’

‘Did you bring anything for me to play with? A little pocket vibrator you keep in your purse, maybe?’

She looked up at him. Could he really not have heard her the one time she needed to be heard, after she had made her only demand?

He raised his brows. ‘I didn’t think so. So you’ve brought no toys, save for the one you just gave me: your real name. Another woman might have built a fantasy around it and become someone else and I would have played along even though I’ve known your real name all along, Molly Archer, but you want this for yourself. You want this for Molly.’

She pressed her fingers into his chest and nicked him with her nails. A rush of excitement passed through her when he flinched, and again as he stroked into her wet passage. Her next words trickled out with laughter. ‘Stop talking and show me what you can do.’

‘That’s a good girl, Molly.’ His mouth split into a grin, showing off perfect teeth she didn’t doubt he had paid handsomely for, and he returned his hand to her back. He held her as he pumped his fingers in and out, and Molly laughed again. He was wrong about her name. She didn’t want him to use it as a sex toy. She wanted him to use her as a sex toy.

‘I think we’ve both had enough of these.’ He withdrew his hand and before she had a chance to draw a breath, he shoved her panties down to her ankles.

As soon as she shuffled out of them, he pressed her down into the chair and stood over her. The light from the window was behind him. It turned him to shadow but left the definition of his round shoulders and narrow hips as he worked his belt free.

She’d always imagined that he folded his fine clothes and placed them in a neat pile before taking his women to bed, but he showed no care with them now. He lifted one foot and then the other to loosen his laces, and shucked off shoes and socks. With just the slightest movement of his narrow hips, his trousers joined the rest of his clothes in a heap that he nudged aside.

With his thumbs hitched in the waistband of his jockeys, he stared down at her with that smirk still on his face. It was as though he was reading her thoughts, as though he knew she wanted to reach out and touch him like he had touched her, to slide her hand between cotton and hard flesh and feel that magnificently thick cock throb against her palm. Her cheeks were so hot that she was sure her need showed on her face.

Yet she saw no reason to hide from him any longer, and so she parted her legs just enough to let him see the glisten of her juices.

A long, low, breathy sound came from him. He moved aside, just enough to come into the light, and he kept his eyes on her as he shoved down his shorts. Molly couldn’t maintain the same focus. She dropped her gaze and bit down on her bottom lip.

She wasn’t surprised to find him as presentable without his clothes as with. He was groomed and trimmed, fully erect and achingly sexy, and she longed to lean forward and run her tongue through the shine of precome.

The sorcerer that he was, he took just what she wanted and turned it against her. He grasped his cock with one hand and reached out to run his thumb across her bottom lip.

With a moan, Molly snaked her tongue out and flicked it over his thumb.

‘There we go,’ he said softly, and swept his thumb back and forth with the same rhythm as he was using to stroke his cock. ‘I like a woman who runs her mouth while I’m fucking her, and I love one who likes to use her mouth.’

He paused and tipped his thumb onto her tongue. Molly felt out of her own body as she puckered her lips and sucked him. He’d transformed her into this voracious thing that couldn’t get enough.

When he leaned down, she greeted his mouth with the same hunger. He returned it, hands in her hair, licking and sucking to match her and ultimately overtake her. Her lips were sore and swollen by the time he withdrew, but her heart raced and her blood simmered with the need for more as he dropped onto his knees. He merely placed his hands on her knees and smirked as he pushed them apart.

‘Well, Molly, here we are.’

‘Yes, here we are,’ she repeated in a whisper. She tucked her feet, still in her pumps, on the edge of the sofa. She was sure her need was written all over her body in dark splotches, staining her cheeks, rising on her breasts and splashing the whites of her inner thighs. She could feel every pinprick of heat with the slow stroke of his fingers, and eased back against the cushions with a sigh.

He snaked his tongue across his upper lip and settled it against his front teeth. A crease formed between his brows as he rubbed his fingers through her slick pussy.

‘I’m a bit of a traditionalist,’ he said. ‘I like to make an impression. I can’t think of a better way, can you?’

He placed his other hand on her mound, and as he parted her slick lips with two fingers he snapped his gaze to hers. He lowered his head, only to stop when his mouth was just above her exposed clit and his hot breath streamed against her. A smile quirked on his mouth.

‘How rude. You’ve given me two first names, and I haven’t even given you one. Allow me to introduce myself.’ Once more he flicked his tongue against his lips, and Molly curled her toes against the soles of her shoes. ‘My name is Quinn Pattengale, and that’s the only one I need.’

Quinn.

She mouthed his name. She hadn’t asked before, not when Nick had given her the number, not when she’d sent those texts to arrange this meeting, and not earlier when he’d entered the room.

She hadn’t wanted to know, not really, and now that she did, an odd feeling crept across her shoulders. Knowing his name made this raw and real.

The sense faded with the first swipe of his tongue over the puffy hood surrounding her clitoris, then vanished completely as his fingers curled, pushing and pulling the wet folds. Even though she lifted her hips to him, Quinn drew back and maintained his slow torture. Fingers and tongue conspired to build her longing but the man, the mastermind behind it all, wouldn’t give her release.

One glance down at him turned her ravenous. His gaze was upon her, eyes shining and brows raised slightly. As though he had been waiting for her to give him back her attention, he flexed his fingers and curled his tongue.

For a moment he merely cradled her aching clit on the tip, but that moment seemed timeless. She was perfectly still on the outside, not even breathing, but on the inside a feral thing raged. It swelled at the back of her throat, roaring and spitting, commanding her to take control, to push down on his head and grind his mouth against her wet pussy.

The hand that remained on her knee slipped out of sight. The feeling of being penetrated unlocked her silence. She reached out and pushed her fingers through his gelled hair, but she didn’t push down. She didn’t have to. She simply curled her fingers against his scalp, then moaned as he licked around and around.

Molly had entered this suite at least two dozen times since coming to the St James Suites, but to her it had always been a white box filled with ordinary furniture. She wondered how some people out there could be so turned on at the thought of coupling in a hotel room. After all, it was just a room.