Unbidden

She stared at me from across the smoky dimness of the hotel bar, and I found myself staring right back at her.

I had done a quick scan of the room when I had first arrived—surely because I was hoping for the sight of her. But as my newfound friends began approaching me, I had just as quickly gotten lost in one conversation after the other. Only a few mentions of her had let me know that she was, in fact, also there.

I had been handed a drink and invited to dance to the blaring music bouncing off the walls. Soon enough, thoughts of her had fled my mind. Less than an hour later, I was back at the bar, sweating lightly and a bit out of breath.

I signaled to the wiry bartender that I needed a refill and then I turned to watch the sea of bodies on the dance floor as I waited.

It was then that I felt it—that discomfort one gets when they know they are being stared at. I turned my head to find the source, only to have my eyes lock with hers.

She stood at the other end of the bar, casually leaning against the wood. The place was dark, but a soft light from the bar hit her just enough so that her identity was unmistakable.

She wore a plain, light-colored shirt over jeans and a pair of boots, and yet nothing about the way that the clothes hugged her curves could be deemed simple. Her short, dark, uneven curls perfectly framed her face. The light softened and, at the same time, highlighted her cheekbones. Her expression, however, was entirely inscrutable.

I stood there unable to look away, completely transfixed by her—this woman who I did not really know, had barely interacted with in the two months we had been in the same program, and had not seen for thirty days since said program had ended. But goddamn if she hadn't been incessant in my head for the past couple of weeks.

It hit me then just how illogically and yet, completely smitten I was with her.

'Out of my league,' my brain reminded me. Still, I did not look away. 'She probably wasn't even looking at me anyway,' I thought as the bartender placed a drink in my hand.

She straightened up, cocked her head almost imperceptibly to the side, and slightly raised the glass of brandy I now noticed was cradled in her right hand.

Okay, so maybe she was looking at me. What was I supposed to with that information?

I was saved by a couple of friends coming over, still high from their stint on the dance floor and excitedly talking over the other. I smiled and laughed along on all the appropriate moments, but their words barely registered. I was heady, my mind clouded with thoughts of her and the unreadable way she had looked at me.

I glanced back to where she had been. She was about a foot further away from the bar, now in conversation with someone else as well. They were positioned so that she was slightly angled from me, giving me her profile—and a chance for me to peruse her without her knowing.

I took my time, smiling at the way her soft curls bounced at the slightest movement of her head. I admired the fine arches of her brows, the chiseled lines of her cheekbones, and the smooth ridge of her nose. Her jaw line was firm, but her chin was feminine. Her facial features were a contrast of hard and soft all over. God, she was beautiful.

I made a pretense of nodding to what one of my friends was saying as my eyes traveled to her neck and further down, appreciating her full form.

Her height had always been impressive. Taller than most women, and yet all limbs flawlessly in proportion. I had never really been into tall women, no matter how gorgeous they might be, but this particular tall woman? Definitely into her.

She laughed at something her friend had said, and my eyes were immediately drawn back to her lips, and then at the hand she softly laid on her friend's shoulder. My eyes took in her arm, tanned and toned, and I watched the muscles slightly ripple as she gave her friend's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Damn. I have always been a sucker for great smiles and putty for strong arms. I shifted uncomfortably in my jeans, feeling the sudden heat in my loins.

She picked that moment to glance my way and, for a second, that gorgeous smile remained in place. But then it vanished, her expression once again unfathomable, her gaze holding mine as she straightened up.

I watched her excuse herself from her friend and begin walking towards my direction. I held my breath, unsure of what I would do if she actually spoke to me. She walked with a certainty in her steps and a sway on her hips that I couldn't ignore. Jesus, was that all I could ever think about?

When it came to her? Yes.

My heartbeat sped up as she neared, and again, I shifted nervously. A couple of feet away, however, she changed direction. She instead headed towards the door, but not without first nodding at me. She inclined her head slightly as she passed like some sort of invitation to follow her.

For a moment, I forgot how to move. She stopped when she got to the door and looked back at me. Again, that minor tilt of her head as if to say, "Well, are you coming?"

It was then that my brain kicked into gear and my limbs stirred. I grabbed and downed the shot that my friend was about to drink—tequila, from the taste of it—before starting towards the door. She had opened and left through it as soon as she saw me moving.

Now outside the bar, I stood there wondering where the hell I was supposed to go next. I looked at the hallway to my right, scarce with people, and tried to find her.

Suddenly, my arm was grabbed from behind and I was pulled towards the elevators. My feet walked willingly, trying to keep up with her quick pace, but all I could think of was how she—the woman I had been crushing very hard on these past few weeks—was finally touching me.

The elevator opened and a couple of people got out. Without looking at me, she softly pulled me along as she got in. There was just the two of us as I stood behind her, knowing nothing of her plans and motives. I knew my blood felt alive, though. My heartbeat was practically audible as she pushed a floor number.

It was as the elevator doors closed that she finally turned to face me, pushing me back gently, yet firmly, against the wall. I looked up at her silently, seeing the color of her eyes—a lighter shade of brown—for the first time. I still couldn't read her expression. Was she angry at me?

"You don't stare at people that way," she said now, her hands still against my shoulder.

It was a fraction of a moment before I found my voice.

"What way?" I asked her, my eyes dropping to her lips. I had no idea what she was talking about. One thing for sure, though, I was definitely turned on by this little display of power. But then again, I already knew that about my deviant self so I was not the least bit surprised.

Her dark brows furrowed slightly. "That way," she answered. "You don't stare at people with such naked desire and not have it returned. For Chrissakes, I'm only human!"

Her lips were on mine before her words had fully registered. Soft lips brushed firmly against my own, as if proving a point. My hands anchored themselves on her arms as I opened myself to the multitude of emotions washing through me. My lips parted as I pulled her close and when her tongue first touched mine, I was sure that the moan that echoed off the walls were my own.

I felt her hand on the small of my back as her tongue darted again, this time with more certainty. I sighed against her mouth, closing my eyes as I savored her taste. A low rumble that could only be called a growl emanated from the back of her throat, and my blood sang.

A high-pitched Ding! interrupted us and she stepped back as the elevator doors opened. This time, she took my hand in hers as we stepped out—she, silently leading the way and I, ready to follow her anywhere at this point.

Her stride was purposeful and, not long after, I was watching the way her toned arms moved as she fished out a key from her back pocket and opened a room. She held the door open and cocked her head at me.

"Get in."

I did, trying to mask my nervousness. I was on edge, not knowing what was going to happen. I mean, of course I knew where this was all leading to—I just had no clue how it was all going to play out. That I was not in control here was clear.

The part of me that liked to be in control of every situation I was in geared up against that knowledge. But then the other part—the one that actually yearned to, for once, relinquish all control—reveled in it, eager to watch things unfold.

She strode past me after closing the door behind her. She walked not towards the bed but to a desk near it where a decanter of brandy sat. She poured herself a glass before turning to me.

"Drink?" She asked.

I nodded, breathing shakily before walking over to her to accept the glass she held out. She was less than an arm's length away and yet, that damned unreadable expression on her face made me unsure of what I should do.

I brought the glass up to my lips and took a sip of the strong liquid. I could smell her perfume from where I stood, feint but feminine.

I turned, deciding to check out the room instead. My eyes did not get past the floor-to-ceiling mirror in front of us on the wall at the other side of the king-sized bed. She held my gaze there, her lids low as she looked at my reflection. Behind me, I felt her take a step closer.

I wore a black tank top over my jeans, and I could feel the soft cotton of her light grey shirt and the gentle swell of her breast starkly pressing against the back of my bare left arm. I took another sip—no, a gulp—of brandy.

Her left hand snaked at the space left open by my raised hand to cup my right breast possessively, and the heat that coursed through my body at that moment was not at all caused by the liquor.

Her eyes still held mine, and I gasped, completely turned on by the sight of us in that mirror. I watched her hand firmly kneading my breast through the fabric and I started to turn, lifting my face up for a kiss. Instead, her other hand grabbed my right shoulder, confidently keeping me in place facing the mirror.

"No. Look,"she said in that soft low tone she used when giving out yoga instructions. It worked just as effectively when giving out commands. I melted against her, leaning my head back on her right shoulder. She smiled to show that she was pleased by my acquiescence before she bowed her head to kiss the exposed space between my neck and shoulder.

I shuddered and gasped when I felt her lips on my neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin. The combined stimulation of feeling her kissing me and watching her as she did it heightened my desire, and when she actually bit my neck with enough pressure that it was both painful and pleasurable, it was my undoing.

I closed my eyes as her mouth clamped down and began sucking—gently at first, and then, in earnest. She was going to leave a mark, but I—who was usually very careful about such things— didn't care. My blood surged, and the space between my thighs dampened at the realization that I was being branded and that I actually wanted to be branded by her.

When she stopped, I sighed. I opened my eyes and watched another slow, satisfied smile spread across her lips. She took the glass I still held in my hand and placed it down on the table without taking her eyes off mine. Her hand on my elbow squeezed, and I straightened.

And then both of her hands were suddenly at the hem of my top and she pulled it up over my body and off me. My hands ended up raised and her fingers trailed down my skin, down my arms and the sides of my breasts, ending on the clasp of my bra. She unhooked it effortlessly, sliding the straps off my arms and letting it fall on the floor.

My eyes were no longer looking at the mirror in front of us. They affixed themselves on her hands, now both on my breasts. Her palms moved in slow circles, just barely grazing my nipples which puckered and hardened at the attention. The feather-light touches kept pleasure at a steady rhythm until the pace became excruciating and the breaths I took became more and more shallow. I wanted more.

My hands, which were kept pinned down to my sides by her arms, reached for something I could anchor myself to and my fingers ended up curling into the belt loops of her jeans, pulling her closer against me in the process. I sighed and let my head fall back against her when she began rolling my hardened nubs between her thumbs and index fingers, her touch still light.

"Yeah, I bet you like that." I heard her breathe into my ear and then, just as I shivered, her fingers clamped down and pinched hard. The pressure was borderline painful, but it was the unexpected jolt of pleasure that made me yelp and gasp at the same time.

And then everything changed somehow as she suddenly turned me towards her and finally kissed me, her teeth softly biting my lower lip before her tongue plunged. She tasted of alcohol and something else—something vaguely sweet. My hands were now free to cup her face, my fingers tracing her jaw before entangling themselves in the short, dark curls on the back of her head.

She walked as she ravaged my mouth, and I found myself falling backwards on the bed. But I didn't fall, not really. She laid me down with one hand on the small of my back and the other cradling my head as her body followed mine.

Her shirt moved with gravity and my hands took the opening to touch the exposed skin on her waist.

'Fuck my luck, she just had to be perfect,' I thought as I ran my hands against her sides, then across the flatness of her smooth belly. She had stopped kissing me but I barely noticed, intent on discovering what she felt like in my hands. My hands travelled further up, over her bra, and cupping her breasts, enjoying their gentle weight on my palms. My fingers went under the fabric in one gentle swipe and found a turgid nipple.

"Mmm," I heard her softly moan, as if she had just taken a satisfying bite out of some dessert.

I looked up to find her head slightly tilted and her eyes closed, and I smiled at the knowledge that my touch affected her. But then her head slowly fell forward as she opened her eyes and stared straight into mine. A gorgeous smile crossed her lips and, at that moment, I knew she was still in control even then.

She dipped her head again, this time going for the side of my neck she hasn't kissed. She bit without pretense, sucking and licking alternately. Her hand was on my left breast, squeezing, palming, and occasionally rolling my nipples between her fingers. She had one thigh between my legs and her hip pressed firmly on my mound. She rocked slowly, rhythmically, and I was powerless against the onslaught of pleasurable sensations hitting me all at once.

My hands moved on their own, reaching and grasping for any part of her I could touch. Under her shirt, they pressed on the small of her back, bringing her as close to me as our denim-clad limbs would allow. My fingers moved up, lightly digging on her back as her thumb grazed my nipple, then further up, pushing against her shoulders as she bit me again, painfully hard.

I was thrown, tossed between pushing her to stop the torment and clutching her so it wouldn't have to end. My fingers wove themselves into her hair and tugged. The soft sounds that escaped my lips could not be contained.

And then her mouth found my nipple and my hips bucked. I had gotten so wet at this point that I could feel it through my jeans. The rough and soft feel of her tongue on my nub drove me wild. My hands moved between us to unbutton my jeans, pushing the offending garment off me along with my underwear. Her body accommodated my movements, her mouth not letting up its assault on my breasts.

When I was fully naked, she lowered her hips back down, the rough denim of her jeans rubbing against my bare flesh. It was not enough. I placed my hand on her forearm, dragging her hand down to my belly and over my hips, but when I tried to pull it lower to where I needed it, she held still and wouldn't budge. She lifted her head up and looked at me, raising a finely arched eyebrow as if to say, What?

"Please," was all I could whimper in my frustration.

She smiled.

"Please what?"She asked softly. I hesitated, unsure of what answer she was looking for, and her smile merely widened. "What do you want?" She cooed. "Go ahead, you can tell me."

"Please touch me," I answered, my hand still trying to push hers down.

"Where, sweetie?" She coaxed.

"There."I told her, my inflection clear. When she still didn't move, I complied and specified where I needed her hands. "My pussy."

"That wasn't so bad, was it? Now say it again."

I half-groaned and half-cried in frustration as her fingers teased the skin on my thighs. I wanted her fingers inside me so badly at that point that I would have said anything.

"Oh God, please! Touch my fucking pussy!"

"Not, God," she chuckled as her hand finally moved. "Shaie."

And then two of her fingers plunged into me so smoothly, it was a testament to just how wet she had gotten me. They buried deep within me and I could not remember any other time when I had felt so satisfyingly filled.

"Fuuuuck," I gasped out, my back slightly arching off the bed. Then, just as smoothly, she pulled them out, dragging them up to coat my clit with my own juices.

"Nooooo!" I protested at the sudden loss. I pulled myself up on my elbows and looked her in the eyes. I was beyond being turned on by now. I needed to come.

"Fuck me," I mouthed silently. There was a shift in her serene expression, as if she wanted to object, but instead she relented, delving her fingers into me. And fuck me, she did.

She drove into me, her quick pace neither gentle nor rough, but strong and steady. Every time she slid her fingers back, the tips grazed that perfect spot that sent electric jolts of pleasure through my entire body, eliciting moans that soon became rhythmic.

I was past thinking; my whole being was now desperate to go over the edge her skilled hand was pushing me forward. Again, my hand became impatient and reached down, my fingers circling my clit. I sank back into the bed and closed my eyes, focused on the movements of our hands.

I felt her mouth take my nipple in once again, and it didn't take long for me to go over the precipice.

"Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, fuck. Oh, my God. Oh my fucking Gooooooooood!"The words stringed out of me, the last one dragging out as I came with such force that it surprised even me. "Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck."I breathed as I floated down, feeling every delicious spasm of my pussy against her fingers. Her free hand stroke the bare skin of my arm in a light, cadenced manner, helping to gradually return my heartbeat back to normal.

She slipped her fingers out of me when the spasms have died and I turned towards her, but on my stomach, acutely aware that I was thoroughly naked while she was still fully clothed.

The only indication she had fucked me were the beads of sweat on her forehead and her quick but steady breathing. Briefly, I worried about her pleasure, and I guess it might have shown because she gently trailed her fingers from my furrowed brows downwards to close my lids. I smiled.

"Rest," she ordered. And I shifted into a more comfortable position. That orgasm did take a lot of my energy and left me very relaxed. I hmm'd languidly as her light fingers began running up and down the back of my leg, soothing me further even as they grazed over my exposed ass. It felt nice. Really nice.

Thwack! The sound of her palm hitting my right ass cheek was sharper than its sting. My eyes flew open and I looked at her, amazed at her gall to even think of spanking me just like that. Her other hand went to my left shoulder, keeping me in position.