Surprise Me.... Isabel Sharpe
barely visible in the bed, the sound of deep, regular breathing.
Hello, Melanie. Welcome to your perfect fantasy. We hope you enjoy your stay.
Oh, she was pretty sure she would.
As quietly as she could, she laid her purse on the floor, then took hold of the hem of her top and pulled it off slowly, as if she were stripping with Stoner watching. She imagined his reaction, her heightened sensual awareness reveling in the feel of the room’s cool air on her skin. Yes, oh, yes; he liked that, but wanted to see more. Bra unhooked, she let it fall, watching the lump on the bed, imagining his eyes glazing, hands reaching for her.
Skirt next, pulled off in a slow shimmy, then underpants, sliding over hips, gliding down thighs, dropping past calves to her feet, then kicked away.
Naked. Ready.
No, not yet. Condoms in her purse—always have them, always use them, her mother had counseled over and over, way before Melanie and Alana knew what she was talking about.
Now. Ready.
Melanie moved, floated, wafted across the floorboards until she was next to the dark shape that would give her body so much pleasure so soon. For a minute she stood by the bed, imagining, fantasizing, until her desire rose so impatiently she could no longer wait to touch him.
As slowly and gently as possible, she slid the condom under his second pillow, then slipped into the bed, displacing the mattress and covers as imperceptibly as she could. She lay next to him and he stirred, not yet aware of what disturbed his sleep.
He would be soon.
She reached and encountered a muscular bare back, skin smooth and warm. She wanted to purr. This was going to be wonderful.
“Mmm.”
Melanie smiled. “Hello there.”
“Ungh.” He lifted and replaced his head on the pillow, drawing up his legs.
“Are you even awake yet?” She stroked the length of his back, following the bumps of his spine, the contours of his shoulder blades, up to—
He started. “Whah th—”
“Shhh.” She curled around him. “It’s Melanie, you dope.”
“Melanie.” His hoarse whisper nearly made her giggle. Poor guy must have been in a seriously deep sleep.
“What—How—”
“Don’t talk, sleepy man….” She put her lips to his skin, followed the taut muscle across the top of his shoulder. Desire urged her up to straddle him. Rolling him flat on his back, she discovered he slept in the nude, and that one part of him was waking up faster than the rest. She stroked the nicely developed planes of his chest through curling hair, wishing she could see his face, but enjoying the mysterious darkness around them too much to turn on a light. “Just lie back…and enjoy.”
“Oh, my—”
“Shhh.” She leaned down, planted kisses collarbone to throat, throat to chin, orienting herself on the landscape of his fine physique so she wouldn’t aim and miss that sexy mouth when she went for their first kiss.
Found it. She lingered, lips hovering millimeters above his, making hers tingle and tremble with anticipation. Nothing beat this moment, making him wait, making herself wait, too, her body going nuts with hormones and—
Strong arms came around her; his body heaved, and he was on top so fast she barely had time to react.
“Melanie.” The whisper again, this time softer, sweeter, more tender. She suddenly felt oddly disjointed, almost panicky. Something wasn’t right. Something was—
His lips found hers dead on target, as if he could see in the dark. She lay still from shock—one, two, three—then her brain registered that she was being kissed as if she were his last hope of ever being kissed again, that his lips were warm and firm and that they matched hers absolutely perfectly.
She made a tiny whimpering sound of surrender that surprised her. Her arms came up and around his neck and she hung on as if she’d otherwise drown.
The man could kiss.
But it wasn’t just his technique, the kissing was…different, somehow. Nothing like she’d experienced in recent memory. It was.
It was.
It was as if he loved her.
Stoner was kissing her as if she was the greatest thing that had ever happened or that ever could happen to him. And she was kissing him back that way because within a very short time it seemed that had become entirely true.
He lifted off her; she protested with an inarticulate sound, feeling the loss keenly…until those magic lips began exploring, circling her breasts in a slow inward spiral, making her nearly weep with gratitude when they finally found her nipple.
His hands had started a journey of their own, covering her thighs with warm sweeps that made her lift her hips from the bed, going closer and closer to her thighs’ juncture, then retreating, closer, then retreating.
She was crazy hot already for the release of his touch between her legs, and they’d barely even begun. He was nothing like she expected, not selfish, not impatient, not insensitive, absolutely the opposite of all those things.
Stoner.
Her heart started a pointless yearning; she told it to stop immediately, as she had told it so many times. This was sex with a stranger, no different than all the other sex she’d had with all the other strangers.
His fingers reached the starved place between her legs; breath hissed between her teeth. Touched, withdrew, probed farther, withdrew.
It was totally different.
She moaned as he dipped again, circled slowly, retreated, circled again, then his torso moved down and he replaced his fingers with his mouth.
Melanie lay helplessly, not sure what had happened, how she’d lost control of the show to this extent. She struggled to sit up. “You should let me… I want to…”
His turn to shush her. His strong hand planted on her sternum pushed her back down. His lips closed over her clitoris and his tongue began to play in earnest.
She gasped, lifted her head, let it drop, eyes squeezed tight, fighting the pleasure. “No. Too soon.”
He showed no mercy, thrust two fingers inside her and shoved her over the edge within seconds, a deep, satisfying orgasm that went on and on until she was nearly in tears, racked by the contractions and the emotion. Too soon. She only dimly understood the certainty she felt that when they joined bodies, they would also join something much more profound. Now she wouldn’t get the chance anytime soon to see if that level of intimacy could happen between them. It took her hours to recharge for orgasm number two.
“I wanted to come with you.”
“You will, Melanie,” he whispered. Again she had the feeling something wasn’t right. An odd instinct. Disconcerting. She shouldn’t have had that last drink, so she could analyze her reaction more clearly.
He stretched beside her on his side, a dark shape in the darkened room, no longer serving her but an equal partner. She slid her hand down his lean abdomen; he was hard, which pleased her. It meant the work of making her come hadn’t been work.
A sweep down his granite length with an open palm, a light caress of his compacted balls and she fisted his erection, stroked up and down, then paused, thumbing his penis head’s magical softness, encountering moisture she gently spread.
He was perfect.
She bent to take him in her mouth, but he chuckled faintly and she found herself again on her back, wrists pinned over her head.
“I won’t last, Mel—”
“Shh.” She brought