The Stranger
Sam’s POV
I pulled away from his lips. His eyes were wide on his face as he stared down at me. He touched his lips with lean, smooth fingers, slowly, subconsciously. “What was that for?” he asked, his voice low, eyes shifting.
“Aren't you supposed to be my date on Tinder?” I demanded with a gruff tone. “Or don't you like what you see?”
“II—” he was saying, nudging his head to the side, skeptical. Then his voice froze, nothing coming out other than a soft, indecisive cackle. “I think there is a mix-up…” finally finding his voice.
I wasn't listening. Because I grabbed his arm, I dragged him out of the bar with me. “Let's go,” I said. I had already kissed him. There was no reason to hold back again, but continue down the rabbit hole.
The cool evening breeze brushed my bare shoulder as soon as we stepped out of the bar. It was soothingly cold. I held my purse tight to me. Though I couldn’t feel it, I could tell it was there—the key card of the hotel room I had booked for this clandestine adventure. God forbid I was taking a stranger to my home.
He struggled a little with me as I dragged him to the pavement.
A cab pulled up just before us at the right time. I leaned into the window a little. “Perry Lane Hotel. Just down the street.”
The driver, a bit of a burly man with a greying temple, waved his hand for us to hop in. I dragged my handsome stranger into the car with me, both of us dropping into the backseat.
It could be the insane amount of whiskey I took, or maybe I also wanted to get laid but just needed the push from the girls. I jumped onto him once we were in the car, and I pressed my lips hard on his, kissing him as hard and urgent as I had done in the bar, my moans rich and aching against his mouth.
He was reluctant at first. But soon, his hand pressed down my back, and he pulled me deeper to his lips. Gradually, he took control, his lips latching fast on mine, licking and stroking mine, with an urgency that sent ripples through my belly.
I arched into him, pushing my breast to his body, wanting more of him. It was at that point that my mind blanked like a fresh paper. When I regained my senses once more, I was lying over something large and comfortable—a bed. A really large one. I looked around to see a large room that must be a hotel suite.
My view was blurred out fast as the stranger resumed again on my lips. He pulled my lower lip under his teeth and bit gently, licking me nice and slow now, as if he had all the time in the world.
He was a great kisser. I threw my arms around his head, pulling him down for more. My body undulated under him, begging for more. And he gave me more. Oh hell, he did.
He slipped his tongue through my teeth, and soon he was licking the walls of my mouth like they were laced with sugar. His tongue teased mine, slapping mine into action, and soon they were in a race with each other in my mouth.
Perhaps Rachel was right. I fucking needed this.
“Oh! Damn.” I moaned in his mouth, hot, breathless, and continuous. He swallowed it all. None make it out, my moans heating up both our cheeks.
He pulled from my lips, and then his wet lips pressed down on my neck, then on my collar. And he traced his way down to my chest. At the same time, my gown was gradually coming off, baring my breast to him.
His wet lips brushed my nipple, and a soft, low moan rippled from my throat. I grabbed the bedsheets tight in my fingers, and I spasmed up to him, a raw, tantalizing sensation whacking through every inch of me.
“I like how you are so responsive to my touch,” he said.
I responded with another moan as his lips latched on my nipples again, wet and hungry. He fondled my breasts like they were his private possessions, just as his wet lips tormented my nipples. Like always, he was nice and slow with it. He teased my nipples with a skill that was so delicate and forbiddenly sensual. His tongue played with them, licked them as if in appreciation of something transcendental, primal.
I was squirming under his lips on my nipples when my sex clenched around three long fingers. Hell no! I jolted as a massive force like an electric charge rippled up from my sex to my body and shot fast like bullets to my brain.
“Do you want me to finger-fuck you?” He asked, his voice teasing me, while his fingers played with my sex, feeling the walls carefully, as if experimenting with it.
“Yes.” I cried, hard and breathless. My lungs heated as I moaned.
But I wasn't ready. I could never be, because as soon as his fists started pumping in and out of me, I writhed around like a trapped snake, my body drummed from so much excitement, my sex clenched tight around his fingers like rubber.
His fingers spread me apart, pushing in and out with subtle force. The grogginess from alcohol snapped fast from my system, and I growled out a moan, one so rich and loud, my whole lungs vibrated, my throat ached as it burned out of me. My eyes opened wide to the decorated ceiling above me.
I jerked around on the bed, millions of sensations surging through me all at the same time. I released low, aching moans into the night, fattening the air up with my moans.
His hand clamped down on my waist, warm, firm, and strong, holding me back from dancing around on the bed as my body struggled to accommodate the millions of sensations consuming me. He regained complete control of his thrust now, since I couldn't move much, and his thrust grew bolder, harder, and dangerously faster. My sex contracted tight around his fingers, hot like it were on fire.
This was hell fucking good. I grabbed the bedsheets tight, my nails tearing into them, as I fought for dear life, spasming against the bed. The bedsheets came apart in my fingers, tearing off, and I grabbed it again. My teeth clenched tight, grinding against each other, as I was swallowed alive by pleasure. Hot, rich moans grated through the spaces between my clenched teeth so much that my throat hurts.
A spasm gripped my thighs, and I watched them quiver, jerking hard against the bed.
“Hell, no, I am coming.” I moaned harder, grinding my teeth harder against each other.
“Yeah, cum all over my fingers, love.”
As soon as he said that, my sex contracted against his fingers as if he'd just commanded it to. It squeezed so tight against his fingers, I felt every inch of them. Then my juices gushed out like a tap let loose, soaking his fingers still deep inside of me.
“You are very wet now, love. Now you are ready for me.”
I heard his belt disentangling, and before I knew it, a huge force was pushing through my sex. He was too big, too damn big. He was just halfway in, and he had already stretched me far apart.
“You are too tight, love, and sweet,” he moaned, sounding gratified.
My body jolted from a massive charge of sensation, and just before the moan charging out of my lips could make it out, his lip had resumed on mine again. And this time, he was fucking me as he was kissing me, our hips bucking to the rhythm of his thrusts. Gradually, he moved to work another orgasm out of me.
For the first time in a long while, I slept like a baby. The girls were damn right. I needed this. I do. I moaned dreamily as I stirred on the bed, my eyes opening slowly to the sunlight streaming in through the windows.
It lit up the room, hinting at a fine day. The summer breeze drifting slowly into the room was cool. It had a rather salty feel as it stung my nose. I sat up on the bed, simultaneously feeling the other side of the bed for the stranger. But all I felt was the bed.
I sat up, turning fast to his side of the bed. He was gone. The bed was empty, except for me. And there was no sign of him anywhere in the room either. Even the things on the floor were only mine—my gown, my heels, my purse, all gathered in a glorious heap before the bed.
My gaze drifted back to the bed, to the roughness and torn bedsheets. It stirred up highlights of our sexcapade in my head. I shook my head, sighing with satisfaction. I smiled at the ceiling. Riley sure knows how to choose a man. The stranger was terrific.
I dropped down from the bed, the sunlight streaming in through the opened windows, falling on my nakedness. My gaze jumped fast to my purse as it vibrated on the floor, muffling the noise of my ringing phone.
I picked up the purse grudgingly, taking out the phone. My eyes caught the notification, and I started, my soul almost jumping out of my body. I stared at the screen like I was fascinated. Twenty missed calls from my superior, Captain James Parlor. What the hell!
The phone vibrated again in my hands, and I pressed down on the answer button, slapping it fast to my ear. I sat up straight on the bed, like one straight ruler.
“Detective Sam Cross,” I said.
I pulled the phone from my ear as Captain James began to yell. He sounded mad, and when he was mad, my eardrum wasn't safe, especially not on the phone.
“Where have you been, for God’s sake? I have been calling you since dawn…” he screamed.
I waited until his tone dropped and he asked again, “Where have you been since morning, Cross?”
I put the phone back to my ear now. “I had an emergency,” I lied, biting my lower lip silently in reproach.
“Well, we also have an emergency here too.” He said, his voice rising some shade higher again. “And it is in the form of a high-profile murder scene—a female corpse with a slit throat. So get your ass down here as fast as you can. I will text you the address.” He yelled.
I already know it had to be a case. A high-profile one. That was the only thing that could get Captain James excited enough to demand me.
I was jumping from the bed to get my clothes when my phone buzzed. I stared at the screen to read the message, and I gasped, exhaling hard and loud, like I just received a blow right in the gut.
The address reads. Room 2001, Perry Lane Hotel… It wasn't just the same hotel I was in. It was the room next to mine.