My Five Night Fling by Maci Dillon

 

 

KASSIDY

 

The small but tidy room overlooks the River Thames with the London Eye, the central attraction. Jarett promises it will be a beautiful sight at night, lit up against the city sky.

I’m thrilled about exploring the beauty and history of London over the next few days. First, I need to unpack and crawl into the tiniest shower I’ve ever laid eyes on.

As I prep the water, increasing the temperature as much as I dare, I ponder the possibilities of the evening. I’m certain a night with Jarett will be one worth experiencing. A one-night stand to challenge all others and potentially shape my view of men long into the future.

My body shakes with expectation as I step beneath the spray.

Tonight may end up being a life-altering opportunity, at least for me. Normally, I’m the one to fuck random men on a whim to satisfy a need. Always the one to sneak out when sleep takes them, having already forgotten the source of attraction.

I have a feeling the early hours of tomorrow morning might slay the norm.

At least, I hope it will.

Hot water sprays over my hair and flows down my body, soothing the aches and pains. If I were not concerned about falling asleep and drowning, I’d submerge myself in the tub, but that will have to wait until tomorrow.

I allow my head to rest against the shower wall, needing the support to stay upright. Enjoying the intensity of the water pressure falling over my chest, I beam, thinking of Jarett and the effortless way he pulled me to him and kissed me before he left. As if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Me, on the other hand, I almost forgot to breathe. He caught me by surprise, sucked the air from my lungs, and brushed my lips with the most tender of kisses. Anything more, and I’d have fallen to my knees in a puddle.

My body responds to him in ways I had forgotten were possible in the presence of another person.

With the kiss fresh in my mind, my fingers descend over my stomach until I reach the needy spot between my legs. I’m glad I took care of grooming last night because I simply don’t have it in me right now.

An ache so old my body fails to register it any longer, was fueled by a stunning stranger today. A man who portrays my desired bad-boy image with a glimpse of a successful entrepreneur.

Family orientated too and will satisfy any parent’s prerequisites. Over lunch, Jarett spoke of losing his parents at a young age. Despite this, it’s evident his family imparts strong qualities and values that will make any woman proud to be at his side.

But his qualities aren’t the part of him I want.

His values, not the part of him I yearn for.

Neither of those causes my clit to throb.

Dangerously, my clit isn’t the only part of my anatomy responding to Jarett. I need to keep my wits about me and my walls high. I’m not interested or willing to let my heart out to play. This visit is purely for physical pleasure.

A chance to destress.

Unwind.

Revel in a new city, rich history, and worldly entertainment.

I recall why I’m here. I can’t allow my heartstrings to sway in the wind like all my girlfriends back home.

Nope, not me.

Five nights.

My stay is limited.

I have return flights booked.

I remind myself that whatever this turns out to be, one night or five, I’ll be saying goodbye at the end of it all.

In my heart, I already know it will be a risk.

The fun part—it will be a risk worth taking.

Surrounded by steam and barely able to keep my eyes open, I try to recall ever feeling this free. For the first time, nothing is out of reach or off-limits.

Breaking free.

Finally letting go.

Fuck yes, I’m doing this.

I’m not sure what I so desperately want to break free from, but I am ready to soar.

Circling my fingertip over my throbbing clit, I tease myself before sliding my finger through the slick heat of my pussy. I imagine Jarett on his knees before me, fucking me with his eyes.

My body tingles from head to toe under his watchful eye. Heat rushes through my core as he leans forward to replace my fingers with his tongue.

My knees buckle slightly beneath me. With increasing speed, my hand works to bring me closer to a release. Sleep will evade me while I’m on fire like this, but I need this.

Rocking backward and forward to my rhythm, I push two fingers deep inside my pussy. Fuck, I’m so wet. My spare hand finds my breast, and my fingers caress my nipples, pulling first at one, then the other. They’re hard enough to cut ice.

In my mind’s eye, Jarett scrapes his teeth over the hardened points. Sensations flow through my body, one mixing with the next until I’m unsure where one starts and the other ends.

I picture Jarett’s hands massaging my inner thighs as he buries his face between them. Oh, how I need to pull at his dark wet hair and ride his face until I come. I’m so close. I can’t wait to grope his body and have him grind intimately against me.

Writhing against my hand, Jarett right there with me, I use my thumb to apply the perfect pressure on my clit, tipping me over the edge. A sharp tweak of my nipple pushes me further off the cliff. His name falls from my lips as I ride myself beyond the tormented pleasure.

Nothing will satisfy my need for him.

I’m in so much trouble.

And Jarett, he’s in for the ride of his life.

On shaky legs, I step out of the shower, dry off and wrap my hair in my towel. I find a small jug in the kitchenette to make a hot cup of chamomile tea before I fall asleep.

I consider calling my girlfriends in Australia before the time difference pulls me up short. It’s the middle of the night for them, and now Chloe and Raven are joined at the hips with their lovers, I don’t want to interrupt their sleep.

I’m sure Miah would answer my call immediately, but I’d prefer to speak with them all at once, so I send a text with a quick video of the view from my window and promise to call them tomorrow.

I draw the curtains to bathe the room in darkness.

With no television in the room for noise, I plug my phone into the charger and select a relaxing playlist while I sit in bed with my tea.

After a few sips, my eyelids flutter, struggling to stay open. I pull back the covers and dive between the crisp, clean sheets. Cold against my nakedness, I sink deeply into the mattress and pull the covers to my chin, chasing the warmth.

Absolute bliss.

Reaching over to retrieve the chamomile tea bags from my mug, I take each one and place them gently over each eye. The deep dark circles beneath them screaming out with pleasure.

 

 

Five hours later, my alarm sounds, waking me from a solid slumber. My skin is flushed from being wrapped so tightly in the plush comforter.

I have less than one hour to spare until Jarett arrives. I knew if I didn’t set the alarm, I would have slept through the evening.

Once I complete my makeup and I’m happy with the seductive vibe emanating back at me in the mirror, I gawk wistfully at the open closet. What is a girl to wear in London amidst the snow and still ooze sex appeal?

Dressed-to-kill is the look I’m going for.

Not an easy feat with the limited outfits at my disposal. As much as I hate it, a shopping spree was out of the question to avoid excess luggage on my way here. The one item I was unable to resist when in New York, on my way to Prague, is my only choice for tonight. It’s an easy-on, easy-off satin slip-gathered dress.

Smooth and delicate.

Seductive and adorable.

I shimmy into the dress and shake my bootie in the mirror. The dark silver satin falls freely over the natural curves of my body. It will work perfectly with my sensual moves on the dance floor.

Mind you, I was born with a negative dose of rhythm, but I’ve never let it stop my natural desire to move to the beat. Where alcohol is involved, I’m never one to stay seated. Dancer or not—seductive or damn awkward—I’ll always be found on the dance floor.

Often, up close and personal with at least one irresistible hottie.

Tonight, my preference is one.

Mr. Jarett Evans.

Turning side-on in the mirror, I admire the little New York number landing midway over my sculpted thigh. The hemline accentuates the effort I’ve put in at the gym lately. In the best shape of my life, I hope I’ve found the perfect man to worship every part of me.

With the diamante-encrusted neck of the dress, bling is unnecessary. Glancing at my phone, I suspect Jarett will be knocking at the door any minute.

My sky-high heels glide effortlessly over my pantyhose, hugging my legs securely. Fingers crossed, the heel is stable enough for walking on the snow-covered ground. Lord, help me if there are stairs where we’re going.

“Just a minute,” I yell moments later when a knock at the door demands my attention.

Crap, earrings.

I race into the bathroom in search of my diamond hoops, an expensive and out-of-the-ordinary graduation gift to myself when I finished my degree at the top of my class. I thread the sparkling hoops through my lobes with shaky fingers, taking a second to center myself.

Quickly, I apply another coat of gloss, smack my lips together loudly, and chuckle as I walk toward the door.

“Coming,” I announce again.

Nervously, I run my hands across the front of my dress as I approach the door and fling it open.

Holy sweet fuck.