Sara let out a deep groan, tilting her head back at the sensation of being touched. A soft hiss escaped her mouth when she felt a finger graze her collarbone. She arched against the touch, wanting it - craving it - lower.
Arousal coursed through her body, heavy and thick, indicative of her need. Her breasts were heavy and ached with the need to be touched, caressed, sucked on, and "Oh yes," she gasped when her nipple was taken in between teeth just as she wanted.
Her fingers slid through that gorgeous dark hair. She'd dreamt of doing it, but never thought she'd actually get the chance to. Funny, she'd always pictured it to be softer than this, easier to get through.
"Harder," she whispered, arching off the bed to encourage obedience to her request.
Her pelvis ground against his. She could feel him hard and ready beneath his boxers. She didn't know what was waiting for her underneath them, but could tell she wasn't going to be disappointed at any rate. And why should anything about him be average? It would take an above average man to catch her attention so completely.
"Please," she begged, hating the tone in her voice but she wanted him in her. Now. Lord knew she needed it. She'd waited for what seemed like forever for this. Completion with him.
She groaned her disapproval when the teeth released her nipple, changing her tone when the other was quickly captured. He knew exactly what she'd like, just how hard to bite and when to soothe with his tongue. And then he'd brush his cheek against it, the friction of the stubble causing her to cry out.
Rough hands caressed her, slid along her stomach and hips, tugging her panties lower. She heard him take a deep breath and knew somehow that he was taking in her scent. That should have embarrassed her, been too much for her. She wasn't about getting to know someone or letting them get to know her. He was different though, even the Witchblade seemed to know that.
Her hands grew bolder, curiosity getting the better of her. She suspected under his clothes was a very solid man. Of the rock solid, drool-worthy variety. She'd wondered more often than she dared admit to anyone if he had any tattoos or scars underneath the clothes he wore. He was a fighter same as she was, he had to have.
She cried out as he thrust into her the way she liked, hands gripping his forearms as he drove into her. She'd been burning up since before coming back here so she was already close to climaxing. She moved against him, using her hips to draw him even deeper inside of her.
So close, too close that it was almost painful to have it kept out of reach for so long. She had no idea if he was doing it intentionally.
This man was nice to look at, but he didn't have the mysterious way about him that allowed him to know things about her he had no right to. This man didn't have the hair she'd been curious about. And his eyes. They weren't Nottingham's eyes. Not even close.
That was it for her, enough to spoil the mood. Substitutes just weren't good enough. The more she tried, the more careless she got. Like tonight. This was the closest she'd come to letting the guy fucking her know she was imagining someone else, but others knew she wasn't totally into them. They'd gotten a good time so hadn't seemed to mind. Maybe they were picturing someone else, too. She couldn't exactly get upset if that was the case.
She faked it then, it was the only thing to do, making the nameless guy she'd picked up after one too many shots of tequila think he was the man and got her off. She wasn't sure what made her think she could get over this - whatever it was - with Nottingham. This wasn't working, though. And she'd tried. Repeatedly.
The guy wasn't expecting her to spend the night, but she doubted he thought she'd get up and go almost as soon as he finished. He slipped out of bed and into the bathroom to dispose of the condom while she found her clothes and put them on.
"Will I see you?"
"Don't," she said, taking a break from sliding into her boots to hold up her hand. "I had a great time and all, but that's all it was," she sounded bitchy to her own ears. Oh well, he didn't know her. One thing about New York there was plenty of bars to go to, so she didn't have to go to the one she'd met him at again. And she'd gone back to his place so he wouldn't know how to find her. She hadn't even told him her name.
She fired up her Duc, revving the engine not caring that it could wake up his neighbors. She needed to feel the power it offered her, the purring of the fine engine coming to under her frustrated body. And she was off, not for the first time - or the last most likely - wishing she knew what his damned hair really felt like.