Entangle Page 8

  She tilts her head to the side, feigning confusion. I can tell I’m right.

  I go on, “You like to be pinned down. You want your face pressed into the sheets and a man ramming you from behind. Maybe you like your ass slapped and your hair pulled. But I can tell you like to be fucked hard. Because letting a man handle you that way is something you would never allow under any other circumstance. You peel away the parts of you that you wear for the rest of the world.”

  She bites her lip and I can see the color rising into her cheeks.

  “Something like that,” she says. “Something exactly like that.”

  “You have no idea how incredibly turned on that makes me.”

  “Well, why don’t you just show me already?”

  The noises around us seem to die down without warning. We both go very still, lost in the same fantasy at the same precise moment, feeling the warmth of our touches without even laying a hand on each other. The air between us seems to lurch and I’m not sure what I’ll do next.

  We both look up at the unwelcome intrusion of the waiter bringing us our plates. He sets our meals down in front of each of us, smiling and asking us if there is anything else we need. I thank him and survey my plate. It’s exactly what I wanted when I ordered it. The presentation is beautiful, but it somehow looks... unappetizing now. I look at Alexis and see her eyeing her own plate with a similar sentiment. I grab the waiter’s arm before he can turn away. “Do you mind bringing us the check?”

  The waiter brings his brows together, surprised by my urgency.

  “O-kay, of course, Sir. Give me a minute.”

  I glance at his name-tag. Mike.

  “Mike, you know what?” I pull out two hundred-dollar bills from my wallet and hand it to him, “That should more than cover it and the tip.”

  Alexis is already on her feet, her purse tucked under her arm. Every part of her exposed skin is flushed and I can only imagine where all her blood flow is going.

  The waiter takes the bills but narrows his eyes suspiciously and says, “Sir, give me just one minute, please. I’ll go get your—”

  I hand him another hundred and pat him on the back.

  “Mike, I don’t think you understand. We really have to go.”

  XIII

  Alexis

  The air around Leo is laced with aphrodisiacs. I’m sure of it. I can feel the way they hover over my skin like feathers, stroking every nerve ending in my body. I am nearly unhinged with desire as he speeds toward the hotel. He keeps his eyes on the road and I have no idea how he can manage to appear this in control of himself. I’m squirming around under his touch; his hand caresses every inch of me they can reach. Our tongues meet every chance they get, interrupted only by the cars blaring their horns, alerting us when a light has turned green again.

  A momentary reprieve comes in the form of our walk through the hotel lobby, but is instantly broken the second the elevator doors close. He pins me against the wall and pulls my body up to his by my thighs, my legs wrap easily around his waist.

  We press our bodies together greedily. Our hands grabbing desperately, our mouths tasting each other in a ravenous way. When we make it to the room, the door slams behind us as we begin tearing away our clothes. I don’t even unzip my dress all the way, peeling it down my body by force. He stops undressing at his underwear, seemingly frozen by the sight of my body. His eyes stream over my exposed breasts and down to the white lace thong I’m wearing.

  He lets out a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh before throwing me over his shoulder. I let out a laugh of surprise and he wraps an arm around my thighs to keep me from slipping as he struts over to the bed. He throws me down on the mattress. I land on my back and have to shake my hair out of my eyes to watch as he removes his underwear to reveal his erection. I take in the sight of his naked body for the first time and a nervous flutter catches in my chest. The realization of what is about to happen is sinking in.

  I writhe backward, expecting him to climb over me. But he stands at the foot of the bed watching me, his chest heaving and his mouth slightly open. I find my eyes sweeping over his bare chest and arms. His body is the stuff Greek sculptures are made of. Smooth skin sculpted into masculine, lean muscles that beg to be touched, scratched.

  “Alexis, you’re perfect,” he whispers as he straps on a condom.

  I bite my lip, holding his gaze for a few seconds before it trails downward again, lingering over my breasts.

  My heartbeat jolts into high gear when he lowers his body onto mine in a smooth, almost predatory swoop. I whimper as I feel his arousal touch the inside of my thigh. He lowers his lips to mine and claims me in another consuming kiss. I forget my nerves. I know only desire. I’ve never wanted someone this badly. I’ve never wanted anything so badly.

  My body is trembling in anticipation, my breath catching in my throat as his tip makes contact with my slick opening. I close my eyes and try to guide him inside me, but he is purposely keeping himself back and just out of reach.

  “Fuck me,” I moan, arching my body toward his. I open my eyes to see the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

  “I’ve waited to hear you say those words,” he says in a seductive tone that sets me on edge. “I’m going to make you scream.”

  It’s torture feeling him close and not having him inside me. He pins both of my wrists down on either side of me and I realize I’m panting.

  “Open your eyes,” he says.

  I’m almost afraid. I open my eyes and am met by the blue oceans of his. The usual composure in them is long gone, replaced by a raw, carnal hunger that scares me as much as it thrills me.

  His expression is intoxicating, and I feel myself plunging into it, refusing to come up for air.

  I don’t need air. I just need him.

  “I was really trying not to fuck you, Alexis,” he says in a low voice as he runs the length of his shaft over my wetness. “But you teased me over the edge.”

  “I’m sorry,” I breathe out, barely aware of what I’m saying.

  “You’re not sorry enough.”

  I let out a frustrated groan as I tilt my hips toward him again. But he keeps himself pinned between our bodies and grinds it against the surface of my sex in slow strokes.

  “Come on,” I breathe out. “Fuck me.”

  He is watching my reaction to his teasing and I can tell he is almost getting off on it. Just as my lips part in the wake of another plea, I’m taken by surprise as he pushes into me. My eyes widen and a moan rises from deep in my throat.

  He groans and takes a sharp breath. “You feel so good.”

  He slides even deeper still, until our hips touch and his body meets my clit.

  “Oh God,” I moan, feeling ripples of excruciating delight shoot through me. I nearly come right then.

  Before I can take a breath, he begins sliding in and out of me. I’m not sure if it’s the way he is holding my gaze, sharing every sensation he experiences through the expression in his eyes, but I’ve never felt anything like this before. My insides are one raw nerve and he is stroking every part of it. His pulsing is delightful and purposely, torturously, slow.

  “Faster,” I pant.

  He bears down and starts heaving in and out of me with breathtaking fervor. Even at this speed, he manages to push himself upward at the end of each thrust, ensuring his pelvis makes contact with my clit each time.

  I’m making sounds I’ve never heard myself make before. Wild, panting moans. The heat inside of me is burning us both and driving up my appetite for him to an insatiable level. All I can think is that I want more. Faster. Harder.

  I am aware of his rhythmic groans of desires, matching his thrusts. His eyes disappear momentarily behind his flailing eyelids. I can't focus on anything in front of my own eyes anymore. My eyesight is blurred by the sensations coursing through me, making my head spin.

  I run my hands over his back and feel the way the muscles flex at the strain of his pounding. He is taking me with a
rapture I’ve never experienced from a man before. If this is what sex is supposed to be, I don’t think I can ever be without it again. Our bodies are intertwined in every conceivable way, both feeling the surmountable pleasure meant for two.

  “Yes. Don’t stop.”

  I’m on the verge; I’m nearly tipping over the edge but find myself lingering there instead. The sensations are tormenting me as they continue to build and threaten to explode out of me. I’m barely aware of the desperate sounds coming from my throat.

  “Come for me, Alexis.”

  Just the sound of his voice is sensual, primal, and overpowering. It drives my senses into overdrive. I feel my body resign to him completely and without hesitation. Erupting into spasms, grinding against him, pushing into him, tensing around him. All this in reaction to the strongest waves of orgasm I’ve ever experienced in my life. One wave crashes as another begins.

  XIV

  Leo

  All I can think of is pleasuring her, sending her over the edge, bringing her back and then pushing her over again. I want to see her reveling in me, flushed from the heat burning inside, her lips parted by wild moans.

  I’ve waited to see this, to watch her body wrench beneath me, around me, as her orgasm unfolds. I slow down my thrusts to follow the natural rhythm her body is convulsing to, helping her ride into her release. I lower my mouth onto hers and taste her breath as she pants out, “Yes, yes, yes.”

  She squeezes around me and I have to bite my lip to keep myself from coming with her. I’d rather be right here, right on the edge, watching as she tumbles helplessly over it. Because watching her is its own sort of release for me. I’ve never seen a woman orgasm this wildly, for this long. Seeing the way she twists helplessly, as though the pleasure I’m giving her is overwhelming enough to burst her at the seams, lifts me out of my own body.

  When her body becomes limp and relaxes, I pull out of her and flip her onto her stomach. She buries her face into the sheets and I hear her muffled panting.

  I grab her by the waist and pull her ass up toward me. She screams out when I enter her from behind. I know she isn’t expecting it; her body is still reeling from her orgasm. Her hands close around the sheets under her palms in a tight grip.

  My eyes take in the incredible view, seeing the way I slide in and out of her, glistening with her juices. I slap her ass and the sound rises over us. She lets out a delicious groan. I do it again before taking hold of her ass with both of my hands and squeezing it. I use my hold to maintain my thrusting.

  She is an exotic animal. The smooth skin on her back is gleaming with sweat in the dim light of the room, her body heaving up and down. She feels incredible.

  “Don’t stop,” she pants out, “Fuck. Don’t stop.”

  “I’m never going to stop,” I say, keeping up my pace. I barely know what I’m saying. I’m drunk off of the pleasure her body gives me.

  Her body tenses up at my words. She screams out, throwing her head back as her body twists under me.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming,” she pants. I continue to pound into her, feeling my eyes almost roll to the back of my head from the way she tightens around me. Her head collapses on the bed but I keep a grip on her waist, preventing myself from slipping out of her.

  “Oh my God,” she groans into the sheets.

  Her words send a rush of excitement coursing through me.

  My cock is throbbing painfully now from the agony of the long-awaited release. I am having an out-of-body experience, grinding into her, finding a sort of frenzy that barely quells my appetite for her as I inch over the verge of climax.

  I’m running off the pure ambition to blow her mind and fuck her like she’s never been fucked before in her life. All I know is that I want to make her come again. One more time, so that orgasm can milk my shaft as I come.

  She begins to moan out things in a wild, sultry voice I never imagine she could possess.

  I know that all her inhibitions are completely gone—her movements and sounds are instinctual, automatic, primal.

  I can come at any second, but I need her to come with me. Leaning forward, I grab a handful of her hair, pulling her head back out of the sheets. She screams out; I feel her flex around me and I think for a moment she is about to come, but she doesn’t.

  Fuck. I can’t contain myself for much longer. My eyes sweep over the curves of her back, noticing a bead of sweat roll down the middle of it. I slide out of her and she groans in protest. Part of me does it because staying inside of her is going to bring me to come before I mean to. Another part of me is compelled to run my tongue up the length of her back. Her curves are beautiful; her skin tastes and smells intoxicating.

  “Please,” she says in an irreverent sigh, contorting under my touch. “Please, I need it.”

  At her begging, I have to bite my lip to contain myself from coming right there, outside of her. I plunge back into her. She reacts like it’s the first time, moaning out and arching her back, pushing herself on me.

  “Faster,” she pants, her whole body shivering.

  I oblige, picking up my rhythm again, grabbing her waist to steady myself as my knees begin to buckle under me.

  “Come for me,” I beg her. “Come on my cock one last time.”

  I’m not sure if she hears me over her moaning.

  “Yes, there. Right there,” she whimpers.

  I try to keep my thrusting steady. I’m stroking a spot inside of her that is bringing her over the edge. I feel her begin to tense again. Right when I think I can’t wait for her any longer, she begins to thrash around under me again, her sounds reaching an all-time desperate pitch. Her moans grow louder and louder, matching the rhythm of her uncontrollable movements.

  I come hard, exploding with a long groan that ripples out of my throat.

  My shoulders relax and I throw my head back, feeling the lingering ecstasy trickle through me. Breathing hard, I pull out of her and clean myself up before collapsing beside her. We both lay back, panting for a few seconds.

  “Okay,” she says between heavy breaths. “Okay. That was...wow.”

  I let a grin speak for me. She thinks I’m done with her but I’m not. This was just the first round and we’ve got all night.

  XV

  Alexis

  My eyes open to find pitch darkness pressing down on them. I jolt upright and my heart slams into my throat. I’m eight years old again. I am feeling around my mother’s closet trying to find Emily, but my fingers grasp at the material of the clothes draping from above my head. Emily must hear me because she whispers to me in her tiny toddler voice.

  “Lexi, I’m right here.”

  My hands grasp a handful of her shoulder. Relief floods over me, more for the confirmation that I’m not alone in the darkness. I pull my little sister into my arms and we both go still, trying hard to be quiet.

  It’s summer time. School’s out and daycare is expensive, so my mother leaves us with Eric. He never has a job to go to, anyway. She thanks him every morning before she leaves, kissing him for too long and letting him grab her butt as Emily and I watch from the couch. Eric always smiles and tells her not to worry. And she doesn’t worry. These days, she never worries. There’s a man in the house and that always seems to pull her out of her depression. As long as a man is around, my mother is alright.

  I don’t like Eric because he smells like burned leaves. But I do like that he doesn’t bother us most of the time. He lets us do whatever we want, as long as we stay out of his way. But there are times that he needs us to disappear for a few hours. So he shoves us in my mother’s closet and warns us not to make noise or come out until he tells us to. He pretends it’s a game. But I’m not a child. I know he doesn’t want us to see what’s happening out there.

  I always hear noises coming from the living room. Sometimes it’s men talking, voices that occasionally rise to shouting. Sometimes things smash and clamber against the walls, causing Emily and me to flinch.

  Sometimes I clasp
my hand over Emily’s mouth to keep her quiet. To keep her safe. But I know Emily is smart. She remembers what we're supposed to do when we go in the closet. We're supposed to be invisible.

  Sometimes the sounds trailing from the living room are more confusing than they are scary. Sometimes it’s laughter and the soft voice of a woman who is not my mother. But that’s almost always followed by strange noises that our young ears can’t decipher. Grunting and panting. Sounds that make my stomach clench with discomfort.

  It takes a few seconds before the memories of where I really am settle over me. My reactive fear edges away somewhat as my pupils dilate large enough to distinguish details in the dark hotel room.

  Leo is asleep beside me, as naked as I am. He’s on his stomach, his head turned in the other direction. But his presence doesn’t quell my unease. He might as well be a stranger. He is a stranger. A stranger I spent hours having sex with.

  What time is it? I edge off the mattress and instantly feel the soreness below my waist, throbbing with my every move. Ignoring it, I make my way around the furniture until I eventually find my purse on the floor. I grab it and pull it into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me and feeling around the wall for a switch. Light pours down on me and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

  I squint at my reflection in the mirror. My hair is tousled and disheveled. My eye makeup is slipping slightly off to the sides. Using my fingers as a comb, I pull up my hair into a high bun, twisting it into itself until it’s secured in a knot. After washing my face clean, I peer up at myself again and notice how bloodshot and tired my eyes look. A glance at my phone tells me it’s shortly after 3 AM. I need to get out of here. I didn’t intend on staying the night but, then again, I never imagined Leo could go for that long. I never knew I could, either.

  I go back in the room and begin to collect my belongings in the dark, as quietly as I can. A few minutes in, I stub my toe on the dresser and hiss out in pain. Leo barely stirs in his sleep. I realize then he’s a heavy sleeper.