Just One Night Read online

  But she never once asked him to stop—and despite the fact that he was rapidly losing his head—he was also listening very carefully for any sign that she wasn't enjoying any of what he was doing to her.

  And by the time he did, her entire bottom was nicely pink and relatively hot, but Andrea still wasn't complaining. The last few swats almost hurt more than they aroused her, but it was a pretty close fifty-fifty, and she really liked the surprising connection between having her butt smacked and how undeniably wet she was getting.

  Rad drew a finger up between her cheeks.

  "Did you like that, honey? Your first spanking?"

  "I did! It seems I'm doing a lot of firsts with you, even though I'm not a virgin."

  He turned them both, so they were lying on their sides, that same finger finding its way between her legs to her clit. Her entire cleft was drenched.

  "Yes, I think you do like it, don't you?"

  She hid her face against his neck like a schoolgirl confronted with a hickey. "Rad!"

  Then, seconds later, "Oh, my God, Rad!"

  "I don't know where you are, but I don't want you to come yet, Andrea." There was no doubt that it was an order. "And if you come without permission, you'll get a real spanking."

  A gaze that had been fuzzy seconds ago became laser-focused on him. "That wasn't a real spanking?"

  He raised his head from her breast, grinning broadly. "No, that was a play spanking."

  "Oh. I don't think I knew there was a difference."

  He grinned down at her evilly. "I think you'll probably be introduced to the difference in the not too distant future."

  He continued sweeping the edge of his finger over her clit while they spoke, and nothing about how her body was reacting to what he was doing or saying got past him. And it was quite a dramatic response. His hand was growing wetter by the second. She was barely able to draw a breath—she was panting so hard—and she was grinding her little cunny against his hand.

  He didn't know her, but he knew the signs of a woman who was desperately trying to get herself off.

  That caused him to scold her lightly. "Did I tell you that you could come, Andrea?" he asked in an extremely gentle voice with just the slightest touch of chiding hiding in the background.

  Her wide, unfocused eyes found his, but he didn't miss how she gasped at his tone. "No." Her hips ground slowly to a halt, and he could tell just how hard it had been for her to do that.

  "Good girl," he complimented, and she gushed all over him again.

  She was incredible—so responsive, so naturally submissive, and totally untutored. He was utterly enamored of her.

  She was his to train to his own specifications if he played his cards right.

  It was almost too much for him to think about at the moment. Suddenly, he had to have her—right now.

  The slight burning in her behind—that had subsided considerably—was rejuvenated when it hit the comforter, especially when he followed her down.

  As much as he wanted to just ravish her, Rad forced himself to look up at her. He should have said something civilized like, "Are you okay?" Or, "Ready for the next step?"

  Instead, he growled, "I'm going to fuck you."

  Luckily, he'd made certain that Andrea was well beyond any kind of anxiety and deep into the need to come.

  "Yes, please!" she groaned.

  Despite his growing urgency, Rad tried to go slowly, tried to make sure he didn't hurt her unintentionally just by positioning her, but she was still clutching at him and arching up toward him, so he figured she was okay. But no matter how ready they both thought she was—and the clear evidence that her body was ready to receive him—it was still a very tight fit.

  And it very nearly killed him on a couple fronts. He didn't want to hurt her, but he desperately wanted to drive himself into her. Especially since he continued to buff that little bead of hers, hoping it would relax her. Instead, she clamped down on him even harder, and he couldn't move in or out.

  "Come, Andrea."

  "Huh?" She was too far gone for conversation.

  "Come. Now," he ordered.

  It was like flipping a switch. Two, maybe three slick strokes over that swollen, distended clit and she exploded in his arms, practically piercing his ear drum with her screams.

  But he managed to retain enough of his mind to advance between her strong contractions, and soon he was buried inside her, wrapped by that still pulsing glove.

  Christ, she was tight! It was going to kill him! He could already feel himself losing control, and she'd only come once. He was going to have to owe her.

  It was a glorious—if somewhat ignominious—orgasm. He hadn't climaxed that fast—that utterly uncontrollably—in years. He prided himself on his ability to stave off an orgasm, but with her, he had no chance at all. He threw back his head and howled in response to her cries, wishing the windows were open so they could make the neighbors jealous.

  It lasted much longer than usual, too—he was thrusting into her for long moments afterward, growling each time, even though he had already softened inside her. Finally, he sank down on top of her, head buried against a breast.

  Still panting, he lifted himself up long enough to look down at her and say, "Give me a minute and I'll get you off another ten or twelve times. Gotta do what Great Aunt Biddy told me to."

  Andrea gave a snort at that, surprised he could remember her name. She didn't think she could come up with her own anytime soon.

  Rad rolled to the side, and she felt his loss quite acutely, until he reached out and pulled her to his side.

  "This is okay?" she asked, raising her head from his shoulder.

  He frowned. "Of course."

  She had questions but didn't want to seem like an idiot, so she swallowed them.

  "You okay?"

  "Yes. Definitely."

  A big hand covered her rear end, patting it lightly.

  "Here, too?"

  "Yeah. Fine."

  "Good."

  They lay together companionably for a long moment, then he asked, "So? What did you think?"

  "It was very good. You seem to know—somehow—how to push all the right buttons for me."

  He gave her a self-satisfied grin. "I know."

  She smacked him and not lightly. "Stop sounding so damned proud of yourself! It's unbecoming behavior for any man, especially a Brit!"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Andrea gave him a look at that. "Are you into being dominated, just out of curiosity?"

  "Yeah, no. If I'm going to be anything in that realm, which I happen to like a lot, then I'm going to be a Dom. Submitting is just… not in my nature."

  "No!" She gave him a wide eyed, utterly sarcastic expression. But she should have made sure his hand had moved off her butt first. "Ow! That hurt!"

  "It was supposed to."

  Andy reached down to rub her butt, finding her hand captured there, his fingers closed around her wrist holding it above the area it was trying to soothe, instead.

  "But I do have to say I wish I could switch—be a Dom or a sub—just for the experience of watching you try to be a Domme."

  She sat up a little, so she could look him in the eye, and he let go of her arm. "You don't think I would do a good job?"

  "I think you'd do your best," he placated.

  She hit him again. "That's a nice way of saying I'd suck at it."

  "Ow!" Rad rubbed his shoulder like he hadn't allowed her to rub her butt. "I just think you're a natural sub, like some women are natural Dommes. You liked it when I spanked you. You generally respond well to my orders, and you love it when I call you a good girl."

  There was no denying any of that, she supposed, but she was surprised by just how much he'd learned about her in such a short time.

  Suddenly, she found herself on her back, with his head between her legs.

  "You don't have to do that," she said, trying to encourage him to get up. But she soon found her hands trapped against the mattress
as he stared at her most private place.

  "I know I don't, Andrea." His eyes found hers. "But I want to." Before he dove in, though, he asked, "Did you and your husband not do any kind of role playing at all?"

  She blushed. "I know—I'm so boring I'm nonexistent, really."

  He really wanted to swat her for that, but he didn't. "I take it that's a no."

  "Yes, it's a no."

  "He never held you down, or tied you up, or anything like that?"

  "No."

  "Well, I'm going to keep your hands right here while I devour you. If you find you dislike the way it makes you feel, or anything else I'm doing, say 'collywobble' and I'll stop."

  She laughed at that, and he could feel the tenseness that had crept into her at his questions—about which she obvious felt very inadequate—drain out of her.

  "I love that word!"

  "And I bet you'll remember it, too." He dropped his voice an octave or so. "But I'd also be willing to bet that you're going to like being restrained, Andrea. There'll be no way for you to avoid or stop what I'm going to do to you. I'm not going to let you up until I've made you come as many times as I want you to. I'm going to press my fingers and my tongue inside you." She yelped at that idea. "And I'm going to get to know your clit even better with my mouth than I do with my fingers."

  That was nearly enough for her to come again, in and of itself. No one had ever said such things to her, certainly not Connor. He wasn't given to grand romantic—or sexual—gestures or expressions of any sort—again, at least not with her. She didn't know how he treated his other women.

  She wasn't able to keep those purely negative thoughts in her mind for more than a second, though, because Rad was as good as his word.

  He luxuriated in that part of her—it was the only word that fit. He literally groaned as he pressed his whole face into her crotch, at one point, emerging coated in her juices from eyebrows to chin and looking excruciatingly happy to do so, licking his lips and proclaiming that she tasted "wonderful".

  She didn't think she'd ever blushed so hard in her life.

  The first time he brought her off after settling there, though, it took her a little while to get there, even though she found the mere idea of not being able to move her hands when she wanted to be incredibly tantalizing.

  But she couldn't keep herself from apologizing to him about how long it was taking her, even though he was very reassuring about the fact that she didn't have to worry about it at all, to the point where the last time she did it, he raised his head to fix her with a stern expression and didn't bother to temper his scolding tone in the least. "Andrea, I don't give a flying fuck how long it takes you. In case you hadn't noticed, I love being down here. If I could, I'd be here all night and all day the next day, too. And if you apologize to me again about how long it takes you to orgasm, you're going to find yourself getting your first real spanking."

  He heard her teeth click loudly together at that, and the only things he heard from her from then on were what he wanted to hear—moans, mewls, whimpers, and screams.

  In all, he brought her off eight more times, until she was begging him not to, and instead, he crawled up her to settle himself slowly—but much more easily—into her.

  She felt every millimeter of him occupying her. He was no longer holding her hands at her hips, but rather over her head, which had her catching her breath in surprise, only to catch him smirking at her as he held her face with his other hand and very slowly claimed her as his, not allowing her to hide one gasp, one whimper, or one groan from him.

  And when he was finally inside her to the hilt, he rumbled into her ear, "You are a very, very good girl," feeling her contract once around him in response to the praise and watching her color deeply at the same time.

  Damn, she was going to be hard to part with at the end of the evening!

  He took his time—because he could this time, with some of the insistent edge off—savoring the feel of her beneath and around him, loving the way she arched into him, fucking her long and hard, and making her come several more times until he lost it himself at the end. It snuck up on him, and suddenly he found he couldn't push it back any longer.

  Andrea held him through the huge, shuddering spasms that seemed more painful than pleasurable to her, but then, she would never want to see a picture or video of herself orgasming, either.

  When he rolled to the side, though, instead of cuddling against him—as she really wanted to do—she sat up.

  Rad, who was barely conscious at that moment, struggled to sit up, too. Christ, he must be getting old! He was wiped out by two orgasms—granted, they were probably the hardest of his life, but still. He was horrified by the idea that drifted through his head at that, that she was better for him than he was for her. She was sitting there, looking all together and self-possessed, as if she'd just gone for a walk in the park, and he could barely sit up!

  And he was frankly worried that she was going to leave, which her next words confirmed, making his chest constrict painfully at the mere thought.

  "Well, I should probably be getting home," she said, moving to slip off the bed.

  "Why? It's only," he checked his watch, "ten-forty-seven. We have the whole night ahead of us."

  She'd stopped moving away, which was good. His heart could resume beating again.

  "Is… is that how it's usually done?"

  Rad reached out and took her hand in his. "It's done however we want it to be done. There are no rules about this but those we make for ourselves, Andrea."

  She wasn't looking at him, but he sensed he was losing her.

  "Are you hungry? I'm sure I have food in the fridge, or we could order something in. My treat."

  She hadn't had anything since lunch that day, because after they had a couple of drinks and she'd shown Linda once and for all that she was a horrible failure at meeting men, Andy had intended to steer them toward some sort of dinner.

  Rad got up, in all of his unselfconscious glory, and stepped into a pair of shorts that were indecently tight.

  It wasn't his words that got her to agree to stay. It wasn't even the promise of a full belly. It was him, in those shorts. She was definitely just that shallow.

  She really didn't have anything else to put on, and he saw her heading for the closet. But instead, he offered her a Bulls t-shirt. "Here, try this instead." Then he sidled up next to her and cupped her breast. "Besides, I'm not anywhere near through with you yet."

  Andrea tugged it over her head, and it fell to her knees. She loved it much more than she wanted to.

  They ate really excellent Chinese food delivered from a restaurant she'd never tried before—fried rice, General Tso's, boneless ribs, and egg rolls—although she beat him to the door, since he was in the bathroom, and paid for it all.

  He growled at her for doing that. "Didn't I say I would get dinner, Andrea?" he asked, coming to look down at her with his arms crossed over his chest and an imperious look on his face.

  "You weren't there. I was." She shrugged.

  The pats he delivered to her bottom as she walked away from him leaned much more toward smacks than pats. "Well, I'll get the next one, then," he said without thinking.

  Andy was already unpacking the bag. "Are we going to eat again tonight? I don't know about you, but this will tide me over until dinner tomorrow."

  Rad frowned deeply, realizing his mistake. There wouldn't be another time.

  "Would you like me to reimburse you?" he asked, heading toward the bedroom and his wallet.

  "No, really. I'm fine."

  "Thank you." It was a bizarre situation. He couldn't remember the last time someone else had bought him anything that wasn't going to go on an expense account.

  "You're welcome."

  They ate in companionable silence, after he taught her how to use chopsticks properly. She was suitably impressed that he owned his own sets of them.

  "You liked having your hands held down a lot, didn't you?" he asked, exp
ertly lifting a piece of chicken to his lips.

  "I think I'll take the fifth on that," she said, around a mouthful of egg roll.

  He gave her a devilish grin. "That's my answer right there."

  She was so beautiful when she was embarrassed. He wondered if it turned her on, too?

  "What can I do to make it better for you, Rad?"

  "Christ, if it gets any better, I'm likely to stroke out!" Then he frowned a bit. "Did you think I didn't enjoy it?"

  "No, but it was very concentrated on me, and I don't like to be selfish. I want to make sure that you're having as much fun as I am."

  "I wasn't exaggerating when I told you it gets me off to get you off, honey."

  "Yes, well…"

  "But, that having been said, are you comfortable giving blow jobs?"

  "Yes, I am."

  He winked at her. "Then I guess we know what we're doing after dinner."

  He didn't stroke out, but it was damned close. Rad had promised her that she would see stars and maybe faint, but he thought he was probably closer to both of those things than she was, although he was at least as concerned with her pleasure as she was with his.

  By the time they rolled away from each other for the last time—just before the crack of dawn—they were both exhausted.

  "Damn, I'm glad it's a Saturday. I'm going to go home and sleep all day!" Andrea had already scooted off his big bed and was busily dressing herself as he watched her from beneath hooded lids, wondering if he could say anything that would make her stay.

  But she seemed pretty married to the "one night stand" ethos, and he didn't think he had much of a chance, which only made the pit of his stomach—as well as his chest—ache badly.

  She was going to walk out of his life, and he was never going to see her again. He couldn't let that happen, could he?

  He didn't know where she lived, and he couldn't offer to take her home, because he—the idiot gentleman that he was—had insisted that she drive herself. Hell, he didn't even know her last name, nor she his.