Cross My Hart

‘I like this city.’ He positions me so I’m looking out of the glass.

‘Me, too,’ I say, my pulse thready as he spreads my legs from behind, my temperature skyrocketing. His hands on my hips steady me as he thrusts into me from behind, and I groan because I have missed him, the feeling of him buried inside me. He’s so big—my muscles had to stretch to accommodate him at first but now I feel like I’m made for this. I brace my arms on the glass, thankful for the heavy tint and the fact we’re high up above the city.

He thrusts into me hard and then one of his hands comes around to my breast, cupping it, and I call out because my nipples feel like they’ve been coated in extra nerve endings or something, so sensitive are they to his touch.

From this angle he reaches so deep inside me, my body is burning up with this.

‘I want to feel all of you,’ he says simply, as he pushes into me and his other hand comes around to my clit, brushing over it, as his cock pushes deeper and harder and I moan.

‘I am all yours.’

He stills for a second, and then the hand that was on my breast drops to my hips and comes to my arse, curving around it, his fingers digging in slightly, and I whimper because the pressure feels so damned good.

His thumb inches closer to the middle of my backside and I hold my breath as he brushes over my butt.

Fuck.

Desire surges inside of me and I push backwards a little, encouraging him, not even wondering what the hell has gone on in my mind that I’m contemplating this.

He moves his fingers faster over my clit and I cry out as pleasure begins to break against me again and just the tip of his thumb pushes into me as he thrusts and I am losing all of myself in this moment, and gaining myself right back too. I look out at Sydney as I crest high above the earth and I lose my breath and my all.

I don’t know what words tumble from my mouth, only that I am saying things over and over again, sounds and syllables, and then the hand that was on my clit clamps around my belly, holding me tight to him and, with his thumb pressed to my arse and his dick deep inside me, he comes, a fast, guttural thrust and a noise—low and so impossibly sexy. He throbs inside me and my muscles squeeze him tight, their euphoria undiminished, undaunted and, yes—even now—terrifyingly insatiable.

He is strong and moves me easily, angling my body so I can see our reflection in the mirror across the room. He doesn’t speak, but his eyes hold mine and something surges inside of me because this is so, so intimate.

I am completely open to him, naked, wanton, wild and uncaring. My hair looks like it’s been teased in some kind of tribute to the eighties, my cheeks are stained pink, my mascara has run around my eyes and my lips are swollen and full from the way I’ve been biting them non-stop.

He straightens, pulling out of me, turning away, and something like fear slices through me, that he’s done with me, with this, but it’s only so he can dispose of the condom, and then he’s back, smiling, his eyes lined at the corners in a way that makes him seem so...nice.

I swallow, not sure I want to know anything more about my one-night stand.

‘Now, I need a drink,’ he says, moving to the bar fridge and pulling it open. He lifts out an ice-cold beer. ‘You?’

‘Yeah, thanks.’

He passes it to me then pulls out another, lifting his to mine in a gesture of salute, as he did in the bar.

I’m trying not to feel self-conscious, but what we’ve just done is...unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. There was some kind of whirlwind and it consumed me and spat me out and I’m a little unsure what to make of it. I sip the beer and then put it down on the bench top.

‘Mind if I use the bathroom?’

‘Go right ahead.’ He nods towards the en suite bathroom.

I smile at him as I pass and he grabs my wrist, holding me still, his eyes searching mine.

He drops his mouth to mine, kissing me gently this time, slowly, tasting me, and I surrender to that kiss, my body arching forward, my tongue tangling with his. He groans into my mouth and his hands lift to my hair, thus explaining why it’s such a bird’s nest, as he weaves his fingers against my scalp, locking me where I am, completely imprisoned by his delicious kiss.

My hands curve around him, finding his arse and then, out of curiosity, I move one hand to his dick, feeling it like I wanted to ever since he undressed. He’s semi-hard again and I am consumed by relief. Even as I know I need to unpack what just happened and how I feel about it, I know I want him again, too. I know I need him.

And the fact he obviously feels the same is reassuring and delicious.

I run my hand along his length, higher, my fingertips brushing over his tip, and his breath snags as he sucks it in and I smile against his mouth. I am totally here for whatever this night is going to be.

One night, no strings, and we’ll never see one another again. Or a few hours, I think with a hint of regret as my eyes shift quickly to the cheap bedside clock that proclaims it to be just after nine. Like some kind of sexual Cinderella, I have my midnight curfew in mind and I must remember it. I’ve worked too hard to let anything come between me and success—and this sale means freedom! Freedom from Gareth, my parents’ doubts over my ability to succeed—and their knowing nods that they were right. That I can’t do this, after all.

Midnight’s it—I’ll go home, have a good night’s sleep, ready to face the trip to the Whitsundays fresh, ready to wow this buyer.

And yet...for now...for the next few hours, there’s this, and I want to enjoy all of it.

With that in mind, I move my hips from side to side, tempting his hands lower, and he doesn’t disappoint, moving one palm from my hair, down my body, to my butt. I pull his cock in my hands, feeling its weight and strength as it grows harder, and his hand slaps down on my arse and I jerk and moan. It’s not hard; it doesn’t hurt, but hell, it makes my nerve endings fire with a heat I didn’t know possible.

I move my hips closer to him so his cock is close to me, and he laughs into my mouth, lifting his hand and slapping my arse cheeks again. I move my hands to his back and pull him closer and he lifts his head, breaking the kiss, his eyes piercing mine but with desire and need. ‘I thought you needed the bathroom.’

‘Nope. I just wanted to take stock.’

His eyes widen a little; perhaps my honesty surprises him.

‘And now?’

‘I want to take something else,’ I say simply, pulling at him, pulling him back towards the bed. He laughs again, but doesn’t demur. I push him onto his back and look around for his wallet, grabbing it up off the bedside table. Somewhere, in the periphery of my mind, I note the way he stills as I grab it, but it’s not until I open it and see dozens of one-hundred-dollar notes in there that I understand why.

I flick past them, grabbing out another condom and unfurling it over his length, my eyes on his. ‘You ever heard of credit cards?’

‘I like cash,’ he says simply.

Fair enough. His unique ways aren’t of interest to me—it doesn’t matter if he’s some kind of conspiracy theorist who doesn’t even believe in bank accounts. None of that matters.

I lift up and take him deep inside me again and it’s quick and desperate—how can it be after what we’ve just done? I have no idea, but I feel like I’ve gone ten years without sex and this man is my dying meal. I take him deep and my muscles scream out with delight and relief. He digs his fingers into my hips and drives his own upwards, thrusting into me as I push down on his length, his possession of me absolute, and absolutely intense.

We explode together, our bodies mingled and tied, and as my nerve endings quiver with the force of this pleasure, I drop forward, onto his body, surrendering to the tidal wave of absolute release, surrendering to this and him.

I lie there, listening to the drumming of his heart, hearing its echo within my own, hot and too full of physical sensations to even think about emotions, about the fact Gareth is getting married in the morning and I’m in some cheap hotel room with a guy I don’t know from Adam.

I don’t want to think about that.

I don’t want to think about the fact the last two and a half years of my life might as well have been erased, because I’m right back where I was as a twenty-one-year-old, with no commitments, no plans, no idea who I was.

He shifts a little beneath me, tumbling me off his chest and pulling out of me; I almost groan at his desertion.

But he pushes up on one elbow so he can look at me, and I feel like he’s really looking at me. As though he’s looking deep within my soul, into my very core, as though he’s pulling me apart in a way that is...unwelcome.

I drift my eyes shut, like that might help a little, but his fingers curve around my cheek, stroking my skin gently, and I blink open reflexively. His eyes pierce me, to the depths of my soul. But he smiles and it’s casual and easy-going so I tell myself I’m being pedantic or paranoid or both.

He says nothing, but I feel a thousand and one questions swirling between us and, for lack of answers, or for lack of answers I care to frame, I smile curtly and stand up. He doesn’t stop me this time. I move to the beer I discarded a little while earlier and pick it up around the neck, drinking half of it with my eyes shut before replacing it quietly and moving into the bathroom. I click the door shut behind me and move to the sink, staring at myself in the mirror.

As I saw before, I am some kind of sexual being brought to life. I look like I exist for this and this alone. My chest is covered in a faint redness from where his stubbled face has dragged over my sensitive flesh. A quick inspection lower shows my thighs have undergone the same fate. I start the tap running and lather my hands in soap, then douse my face, washing off the relics of my make-up. It’s better to have no make-up than the trashed wasteland I was sporting. I look around for the standard issue hotel cosmetics, pulling open a cupboard and seeing, instead, a travel pack of luxurious toiletries.

With a slight frown, I skate my fingers over them, noting the brand names with mild interest and growing curiosity before reaching for the next door. The usual products have all been shoved in here. I grab out the hotel branded moisturiser and run it over my face, then return my thoughts to his toiletry bag.