Honestly, I have no idea what made me say it.
“Huh?” Zach’s hand paused on his dick, which did resemble (as suspected) a thick, hard magic wand. I bet it even vibrated.
“You should spank me,” I said, testing out the role. “For being such a bad girl.”
“Do you enjoy being spanked?” His tone said he was intrigued.
“I don’t know.” I’d never been spanked before. I’d read about it in books, but my puppy-dog exes were not the dominant alpha males who starred in my erotic novels.
“Would you like to find out?”
“Yes,” I said breathlessly.
“Yes, what?” His voice held a warning tone.
“Yes, please.”
He reached for my hand and pulled me to my feet. “I’ve been thinking about this since the moment I saw you.” He grabbed the bunched-up material at my hips and dragged the dress over my head. Underneath, I’d worn a black lace bustier that showed off my hourglass figure.
Zach’s eyes popped. “Jesus Christ. Your body should be illegal.”
He buried his face in my cleavage, his mouth warm and wet on the spill of my breasts above the lingerie, his beard scratching at my skin. I wove my fingers into his hair, loving the threads of silver among the dark. His capable hands moved from my hips to my ass, filling his palms with my flesh, squeezing hard.
All I could think of was how powerful and masculine he was. I’d never been with anyone whose hands felt so strong, whose voice was so deep, whose body was so muscular and mature. He might have been forty-seven, but he was built like an active-duty Marine. The tattoos. The chest hair. The ripped abdomen and bulging biceps. No wonder he was a bodyguard—every inch of him exuded strength and force and skill. Even his tongue. My God, I’d never had an orgasm so fast, not without battery-powered assistance or giving tons of instructions. Not that I minded telling a guy what I liked, but sometimes it felt like I should have provided a map and step-by-step directions to the destination. Maybe a Maglite and a compass. But Zach? Not only did he know the terrain, but he obviously had an internal navigation system.
Would he be just as good during the actual deed? I remembered the heft and length of his cock in my hand and my excitement ratcheted up another notch.
“Zach,” I murmured impatiently, reaching between his legs again. “I want you.”
“Soon.” He lifted his head and spun me around so his erection pressed into my lower back. “But I have to teach you a lesson first,” he growled in my ear. “Get on the bed. Hands and knees.”
I did what he said, my limbs trembling.
“Just like a good girl.” He climbed up on the mattress and knelt behind me. “Now grab on to the headboard.”
I moved up farther and placed my palms on the tufted brown leather. My breath was shallow and quick, my chest restricted by the bustier. Fear and anticipation coursed through me. Would he give me any warning? Would it hurt? Those hands could probably do a lot of damage.
It was one thing to hand your body over to a stranger for pleasure. It was quite another to hand it over for pain.
But for some reason, I trusted him.
“So fucking beautiful,” he said.
I felt his palms on my butt, rubbing firm, slow circles in opposite directions. More like a massage than anything. Maybe he’d changed his mind. Maybe he—
Smack!
His hand striking my ass set my skin on fire, making me cry out. Immediately he pressed his hand over the sting. “Shhh. Did that hurt?”
“Yes,” I whispered through clenched teeth.
“Good.” He did it again, cracking his palm across the opposite cheek, then covering them both, rubbing gently. “That’s the only way you’ll learn.”
My eyes were watering, and I imagined my ass was bright red. But my heart was racing, and my nipples were hard—maybe it was just a game, but the idea that he was teaching me a lesson for being too tempting for him to resist made my entire body radiate with desire.
“I’ve learned,” I panted. “I promise. I’m a good girl now. I just want you to fuck me.”
He pressed close behind me, and I moaned when I felt his cock trapped between us. I pushed back against it, hoping he wouldn’t be able to resist. Instead, he braced one arm on the headboard above mine and reached around my waist with the other hand, dipping his fingers inside me, then rubbing them over my clit. He moaned in my ear, deep and gruff. “Would a good girl get so wet from being spanked? Would a good girl like being punished this way? Would a good girl ask to get fucked?”
I whimpered as he tortured me with his fingers. I didn’t know what answers to give to make him want me as badly as I wanted him. I’d never felt so helpless and impatient and frustrated—didn’t the guy always want to come as quickly as possible? Was Zach superhuman?
“Tell me what to do,” I begged as I neared a second climax. “What will make you say yes?”
“Come for me. Just like this.” He plunged his fingers deeper, using the heel of his hand against my clit, and I shamelessly rocked my hips, spiraling higher. In seconds the world turned silver, and my lower body tightened up, every muscle tingling. I cried out as the orgasm tore through me, my body clenching his hand, his teeth sinking into my shoulder, spiking the pleasure with a delicious little sting.
Breathing hard, he took his fingers from me. “I need to see you—all of you,” he said, undoing the bustier’s hooks at my lower back. It fell open, and I could breathe easier. My chest heaved.
His hands closed over my breasts, lifting and shaping them, teasing their stiff peaks with his fingertips. He put his mouth on one shoulder and moved it up the curve of my neck. Taking my hands from the headboard, I wrapped them around his head, threading my fingers in his hair. Breathing deeply, I told myself to stop racing for the finish—we would get there. No one had ever worshiped my body this way, and I should savor every single, delicious second.
“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he told me. And maybe it wasn’t true, maybe it was just a line, maybe he’d said it to twenty other women before me, but I didn’t care. Because he made it feel true. All the insecurities that might have taken the shine off this night were nonexistent.
He touched me reverently and patiently, but hungrily and greedily too—like he was worried there was some place on my body, some inch of my skin he might miss. He kissed me deeply, and I could taste the whiskey on his tongue. He spoke low in my ear, his fingers inside me, telling me how hard his cock was as he rubbed it against my ass, how much he loved that I was so wet for him, how deep and hard he was going to fuck me, how many times he wanted to make me come tonight.
I was trembling, aching with need by the time he tipped me onto my back and stretched out above me. Anticipation built with every sensation. The weight of his thick, muscular chest. The thrust of his tongue in my mouth. The slick heat of our skin. The sound of our ragged breathing. The motion of his hips as he rocked between my thighs, his cock sliding against my clit, the friction enough to have me clawing his back.
I nearly wept with relief when he knelt between my legs, rolling on the condom. I held my breath as he eased inside me with a few slow, shallow thrusts, glad he was a gentleman again, at least for a moment. I’d never been with anyone so big, and my body needed time to adjust.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
I nodded, clutching his shoulders.
“Breathe,” he told me.
I laughed, inhaling and exhaling a couple times. “You’re just a lot bigger than anyone I’ve ever been with.”
“Good.”
“Also, it’s been a while.”
“For me too.” He groaned, sliding in deeper. “Which is why it’s a challenge right now not to tear you apart.”
“Just give me a minute,” I whispered, running my hands down his back, drawing my knees up. “And then you can be as rough as you want.”
With one final stroke, he buried himself, making me gasp. “You sure about that?”
I squeezed my eyes shut against the deep, painful twinge—had he knocked some internal organ out of the way? “Maybe two minutes,” I said, breathing in and out, relaxing my pelvic muscles, latching on to the lovely hum that was building inside me again as he began to move.
In truth, it was probably only about thirty seconds before I had my hands full of his gloriously firm ass, pulling him in deeper, lifting my hips to meet every thrust, my body begging for more even though my mind wasn’t sure I could take it.
As promised, Zach nearly tore me apart. Despite the slow and gentle start, things escalated quickly—at least I think they did, but I’d lost all sense of time, I’d lost all sense of anything except his body on mine, his driving cock, his furious need to go deeper, harder, faster until his body stiffened and I felt him throbbing inside me, a strangled groan in my ear. I hooked my legs around his thighs and dug my nails into his skin, relishing every last pulse.
When he’d caught his breath, he braced himself above me. “I was too fast.”
“You were perfect. That was amazing.”
“You didn’t come with me.”
“I came twice before you!” I laughed. “You’ve already doubled the number of orgasms I’ve ever had with anyone else, and I don’t even know your last name.”
“It’s Barrett.”
“Mine’s MacAllister.”
“Millie MacAllister.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Cute.”
I smiled too. I’d messed up his hair, and he was all rumpled and sexy. The butterflies were back. “I wish I didn’t have to go, but—”
He shook his head. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Huh?”
“Listen, Millie MacAllister. Down in the bar, I told you if you said yes, you’d be up all fucking night. And I meant it.”
I laughed, glancing over at the nightstand clock. “But it’s—”
“It’s barely after midnight. What time is your flight?”
“Nine.”
His grin widened. “Baby, we’re just getting started.”
I opened my eyes in a panic—shit! What time was it?
I bolted upright in Zach’s bed, relieved when I saw the clock numbers glowing in the dark. It wasn’t quite five. I still had time to sneak back to my room, pack up, and make it to the airport on time. What the hell had I been thinking to fall asleep?
Actually, I hadn’t been capable of thinking at that point, I thought, swinging my feet to the floor. My mind still wasn’t working right. Zach had literally fucked my brains out.
I glanced behind me at the sleeping figure of the man who’d made me see stars five times. His breathing was slow and even, surprisingly quiet. Gingerly, I got to my feet, suppressing a groan at the stiffness in my muscles. I was going to be sore all week.
The carpet was soft under my feet as I moved around the room, hunting for the various pieces of my clothing from last night—bustier, dress, shoes . . . but where the heck had my panties landed? Frowning, I got down on my hands and knees near the foot of the bed and felt around. At some point, Zach had turned off the lamp, so I couldn’t see a thing.
Aha! My fingers encountered some lace, and I stood to step into them. Panties in place, I was struggling to manage the closures of my bustier when the lamp came on.
“Hey.” Zach’s voice was rusty.
“Oh. Hey.” I laughed nervously. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s okay. Can I help you?”
“If you don’t mind.”
He threw the sheets aside and got out of bed, and my pulse picked up at the sight of his nakedness. I loved that he wasn’t self-conscious about it. Even so, I tried not to stare, turning around and presenting him with my back, where I held the bustier closed with both hands.
He managed to work the hooks into the eyes, then bracketed my hips with his hands and pressed his lips to my shoulder.
I closed my eyes and swallowed. “I have to go.”
“I know.” But he didn’t move.
“I had a really good time last night,” I told him.
“Me too.” He went over to the dresser while I pulled my dress over my head and tugged it over my breasts and hips. Deciding against strapping myself into the heels, I scooped them up in one hand and raked the other through my hair. But anyone who saw me tiptoeing down the hall in my bare feet in this dress and last night’s mascara beneath my eyes would immediately know the truth—I’d had a one-night stand with a stranger in his hotel room.
A hot, mysterious stranger fifteen years older than me, who’d spanked me, ravaged my body, and made me come all night long.
My heart pumped hard as I looked at his naked backside. I wished I had more time . . . I wanted to explore the tattoos on his body, ask about them. Trace them with my fingers. My tongue.
“Here.” Zach turned around and handed me a business card. “If you ever need protection in a hotel bar, call me.”
I glanced down at the card. “Zachary Barrett, Cole Security. San Diego, California.” There was a telephone number listed. I looked up at him and smiled. “San Diego, huh?”
He nodded.
My eyes traveled over his shoulders, chest, arms. “You have a lot of tattoos.”
He glanced down. “Yeah.”
I noticed one with an anchor and rope that said US NAVY. “Were you in the military?”
“I was a Navy SEAL.”
I smiled. “Of course you were.”
He took me by the shoulders and kissed my forehead. “Be safe, Millie MacAllister.”
“I will.” I picked up my clutch from the dresser and tucked it under one arm. Zach walked to the door and pulled it open, staying behind it.
As I walked out, I blew him a silent kiss and left the room without a single regret.
I owed Winnie a nice bottle of wine.
