Dirty Diana by January James

Chapter Seven

When he finally stopped, I felt him sit up and move off the sofa. I could do no such thing; I was paralyzed. Then I felt two wide forearms glide beneath my back, lifting me into the air and bringing me back down onto his lap. I rested my head against his shoulder as he settled back with a remote control in his hand. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a screen flicker to life and a menu of options appear. I didn’t want to turn my head to look closer, I wanted to sink myself into him, my need for an orgasm quenched but my need for him intensified.

I reached a hand up to curl around his neck and nuzzled my lips into him, kissing the base of his throat. I knew kissing was frowned upon but he wasn’t kissing me back, so in my mind, it didn’t count. His arm pulled me into him and I could hear his heart beating against my ear; it was slowing with every minute that passed.

“You need to eat,” he whispered, and my stomach growled in response. I felt him smile.

“I need to return the favor,” I replied, pressing my lips again to his throat.

“We have all night,” he said, stroking his fingers down my arm in a gesture that stunned me with its intimacy. “I’m ordering nachos.”

“We can get nachos here?” I suddenly remembered where we were. We were in a sex club in downtown Manhattan. Ordering… room service?

“We can get anything we want,” he replied, casually. “We have a Michelin-starred chef on site who can rustle up anything from Confit de Canard to grilled cheese. I figured we probably don’t want a five course meal right now, although you could have one if you wanted?”

I couldn’t see the raised eyebrow but I could feel it. I shook my head. “Something light would be better. Nachos will be perfect.”

He squeezed me lightly in agreement and clicked a few buttons on the remote.

“Now, what film would you like to watch?”

I sat up at that and narrowed my eyes at him. “You want to watch a film?” I felt totally lost and out of my depth. I thought we were there to have sex—lots of sex—and he wanted to order in food and a movie?

He laughed and I almost fell in love with the sound. I saw his teeth for the first time and they were perfectly straight and perfectly white, having no doubt taken full advantage of the American dental care system.

“Yes. I keep telling you, we have all night. But…” he dropped the remote and moved both hands to my waist, pressing down into the sensitive area that I could not bear to have touched. “You don’t seem to be listening to me.” He squeezed and I buckled, gasping for air in a fit of giggles.

“Stop! I’m sorry,” I choked, between giggles, as his fingertips tortured me. “I’m listening, I promise.”

He was grinning broadly when I finally composed myself. I was still sitting on his lap feeling cradled like a child, his arms wrapping around me protectively.

“You’re so cute,” he smiled, bending his head to nuzzle into my neck as I had done with his. Just as I was about to melt again with the sensation of prickles erupting all over my skin, he blew a raspberry into my neck, making me leap about a foot off his lap. I lost my balance and fell to the side, and he caught me just as I was about to slide unceremoniously off the sofa. His giant hands held me up and I turned to face him, my knees coming down either side of his thighs. Suddenly the joviality of the tickling and the raspberry-blowing simmered and we stared into each other’s eyes. I wanted to kiss him. I needed to kiss him.

Every pore and every hair and every cell on the outer part of my skin was burning. I suddenly needed the intimacy of his lips against mine. He’d told me we had all night; and in that moment something crystallized. I wanted to fill this one night with everything, including his kiss. I let him stare up at me for an eternity, while I metaphorically squeezed my thighs together as tightly as I could, trying to ignore the pain building from another anticipatory rush of blood to my arousal. Whatever it was that we shared—even if it was an illusion precipitated by being in a secret location with a man whose name I’ll never know, and a face I’ll never see—we could only share it for one night. And the clock was ticking.

Without warning, his lips rammed against mine. His tongue stroked ravenously along the opening of my mouth setting it alight, parting my lips, expertly caressing my sensitive skin. The tension in his arms released as I sighed into him, and I felt a hand curve around the back of my head. His tongue explored mine, curling around it in a dance, licking playfully at my taste buds, as his fingers rooted through my hair, tussling and teasing it as his tongue roamed my mouth. I felt him hard as glass between my thighs and wondered how long he’d been this aroused for. I ground myself against him and a low growl emerged from his chest, as though I was compromising his control. I felt his hands grip the side of my face and his thumbs reach the edge of my drape. He withdrew his lips then, keeping his face just an inch from mine. Then his thumbs pushed the drape upwards a little, revealing the tip of my nose.

I suddenly became aware of my breath, panting in short, sharp gasps. I felt as though we were about to do something even more forbidden than sleep with each other as strangers in a secret place. Not only had we kissed, deeply and with an intimacy I could only describe as carnal, but we might be about to cross a hard line: reveal our faces to each other. I knew why he was holding my face so close; there was a camera behind us, monitoring our every move. If we were caught doing this, well, I didn’t know what the consequences would be; I hadn’t thought to ask. But they probably involved an abrupt end to this insanely erotic evening and a termination of my membership. At the crux of it all, I would never see this man again. I had to remind myself, I wouldn’t be able to anyway. Another rule. Never meet the same member twice. I had nothing to lose.

I brought my own hands up to the edge of his drape and he didn’t stop me. I followed his lead, only lifting it to the apples of his cheeks. His nose was strong, like him, straight and perfect, like his teeth. A light shadow appeared on his cheeks, indicating chiseled features. With his cheekbones and square jaw, he had the face shape of James Dean—my grandmother would be proud. He paused before lifting the drape above my eyes, and I took a breath in, preparing myself. Not that it really mattered what he looked like; my hormones had already decided he was hot as fuck, and my groin didn’t have eyes.

Together, we pushed the drapes slowly upwards. The first row of thick eyelashes came into view then his deep blue eyes, pupils so wide I almost fell into them. Then his long upper lashes, then thick, unruly brows. Definitely James Dean. He slammed his mouth against mine and then everything moved fast. He lifted me up so I was kneeling above him, and whipped his belt through the buckle, lifting his ass off the sofa to shove his pants down his thighs. It was happening.

I took control of the kiss, holding his head firm as I probed his mouth with my tongue. His moved lazily, his focus momentarily elsewhere. I heard the latex snap—there must have been condoms in every crevice. I pulled back to assess his eyes for a second. They were hungry, desperate. Then they closed and I was filled to the brink. I cried out in shock. He was enormous. I had no idea how I was going to move on this thing; it was like being wedged onto a pole.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he growled, in a voice that alarmed me. Then his head dropped onto my collarbone. “Sorry,” he gasped. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” I asked, once my breath had returned.

“I couldn’t stop myself…”

My drape had fallen with the sudden intrusion but his was still hitched above his eyebrows. I lifted his head to take him in.

“It’s ok,” I whispered. “I want this. I want you to fuck me.”

The relief in his face was quickly replaced by hunger. “Good. I wanted to rip his damn balls off…”

I shook my head. “Please forget about that. I hate that you saw it. I just… I need you to fuck me, ok? Please?” I was aware I was begging again, but he was inside me, filling me entirely, touching every wall, every nerve ending. My insides were on fire and only movement—his movement—would soothe it.

“You need to be caressed,” he said, shifting slightly and settling into me. I couldn’t speak. “You need to feel everything, smoothly, slowly.” He rocked, drawing himself out slightly and easing himself back in, stoking the flames.

“No,” I almost choked. “I need you to fuck me.”

He lifted my hips, easing me off his cock until I felt the tip brush against me, then pulled me back down, smooth but fast. Our sighs of relief entangled. I took over the movement, feeling my thighs burn, but I focused everything I had on the sensation of him inside me, pulsing with every thrust. His hips rose to meet mine, pushing him deeper than I could have imagined possible. One hand left my hips and pulled my head down to his, holding me on his lips as I moved.

“You’re so sexy…” he whispered into my mouth and I swallowed the words. “I’m going to come in this condom. I wish I was coming in you.

“You’re inside me,” I answered him, my lips attached to his. “I’m feeling everything.”

“Do you want to feel me come?” His voice was a shadow of what it was before; deep and dry.

“Yes,” I breathed.

“Tell me,” he ordered.

I didn’t hesitate. My need was the same as, if not greater than, his. “Please… come inside me. I want to feel you.”

“Again.”

“Please…” I sank my hips onto him and clenched my thighs, clamping myself around him, earning a feral groan.

“Again.”

“Please… come…” I meant it now. I was there. I needed him to come with me. “Ple….” I couldn’t even finish the word before the sensation took over me.

“Don’t stop,” he rasped, gripping my hips and pulling me down, pushing me up, meeting my hips with his. I couldn’t respond; I couldn’t fight; I couldn’t do anything except let him take over. The blood was pulsing through me, the heat rolling from my nerves, up through my stomach, my core.

“Fuuuuck,” he called out again. “I’m coming. Oh my God, I’m coming.”

I felt him hit the top of the condom, the bursts pulsing against my walls, and I came again, a new wave of heat reaching up through my stomach, radiating out through every pore, sweat forming a sheen along the surface of my skin. He jerked inside me and I clung to him for stability. He remained there as we came down the other side, catching our breath.

“Are you ok?” He said, eventually, his eyes still closed.

“Yes,” I said, my voice breathy. I thought I was ok, but something was amiss.

“I want you to know my name.”

He shook his head. “No…”

I lowered my voice to a whisper. “…Its Diana.”

His head stopped moving and his eyes bore into my mine, as though he was trying to read my motive. I gave him a small smile. I wasn’t a threat to him; he needed to know that.

Instead of replying, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine, kissing me slowly and deeply. He held the back of my head, pulling me in towards him with a new level of intensity. We settled into a motion, a tempo, like a wave, his lips soft against mine, moving as though they’d been made for each other. I felt warmth wrap around my torso as my fingers stroked the back of his neck. Whatever he was afraid of, he needn’t worry about it with me. Besides, it was just one night. It didn’t matter that he knew my name.

Ten delicious minutes passed when a knock came at the door. He pulled back, slowly, reluctantly.

“Nachos,” he said, with a grin.