Home > No Tomorrow(8)

No Tomorrow(8)
Author: Carian Cole

“No… I think you’re just a really good person.” He sets the bag of snacks down next to the lantern. “Way too good to be here with me.”

“That’s not tr—”

Without warning, his mouth is on mine, open and hot. Stumbling backward from the shock, I clutch the soft fabric of his flannel shirt as he grabs the back of my head and pulls my mouth harder against his. There’s not one hint of gentleness in his kiss. It’s raw, rough, and unapologetically demanding. When my lips part in an attempt to either moan or protest—I’m not sure which—his tongue invades my mouth, annihilating my words while he slowly slides his hand from the nape of my neck down to my waist. Those long fingers that move over the guitar strings so perfectly grip me so hard I’m sure I’ll have bruises tomorrow.

He backs me up until my spine slams against the cold stone wall, then pulls away, just far enough to stare down into my eyes but close enough that I can feel his breath against my face.

He edges his other hand up and closes it around my neck, the span of his huge palm covering my throat. My pulse thumps wildly against his grasp as I struggle to swallow. I’m paralyzed, not just because he’s got my throat in a chokehold, but because the undeniable flash of lust I see in his eyes is sending an army of white-hot electrifying tingles throughout my entire body. Warmth floods between my thighs despite the chill in the air. Closing his eyes, he lowers his head and slowly drags his nose across my cheek. He inhales deeply.

His voice is deep and husky when his mouth touches the corner of mine. “You should get out of here.”

My heartbeat thunders in my ears. “I don’t want to.”

Exhaling with a low rumble, he releases my throat. He clenches the back of my neck, threading his fingers through my hair. Using the tension of my hair in his grasp, he pulls my face toward his. My scalp stings with the tightening of his fingers, and he silences my gasp by filling my mouth with his tongue. The metal bar dings against my teeth on the way in. Trembling from head to toe with a dizzying mix of fear and desire, I grip his shoulders for stability—or maybe just to get my hands on him.

Leaning closer, he shoves his leg between mine, his jeans chafing against the flesh of my thighs as he pushes them apart. The cool night breeze travels up my skirt and sends a shiver through my limbs. I move my hand to his chest, but he quickly snatches it and pins it against the wall above our heads, locking his fingers into mine. He moves his leg up against my crotch, lifting me about a foot off the ground, bringing my lips level with his.

My entire being spins into a euphoric haze as he kisses me deeper. I lose the ability to think or breathe. I surrender to his touch and become mindless, boneless, thoughtless.

And in that moment, utterly regretless.

I don’t push this stranger away. I don’t say no. The sighs and whimpers that drift from my lips while his mouth devours me beg for more. My body and mind consent. I have no choice but to straddle his leg, and the pressure against my clit makes me want to rub all over him like a cat. Drowning in him, I gulp his breath into my lungs. He’s tobacco and mint-infused oxygen, resuscitating me.

Slowly lowering me to my feet, he moves his free hand to the hem of my skirt and lightly traces the edge of the material. The silver rings on his fingers are smooth and cold against my skin. He inches his hand beneath my skirt and squeezes my inner thigh hard enough to make me wince. I slip further down the rabbit hole when his finger languidly glides back and forth over the damp spot at the front of my panties, coaxing me, teasing me, luring me.

Blood flows back to my hand when he releases it from its prison against the stone above our heads. I flex my fingers and stare into his darkening eyes, wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.

He presses his thumb to the thin material against my clit and traces a lazy circle. He watches me, his lips hovering over mine, and it’s perfectly tantalizing the way his finger moves so unrushed, making me powerless to resist rocking into his touch for more. He’s savoring my every fluttering breath, my every response. I can see it in the flash and burn of his eyes and in his ragged breathing—which is unexpected and provocative. Nobody has ever looked at me like he does.

And I’m sure no one ever will.

This man could rape me or kill me down here at the dark edge of the park. No one would know. He could easily walk away with his guitar and his dog, on to the next town. Free. Not a soul would ever know I came here on my own, allowed him to put his hands and his mouth on my body and conjure desire out of me.

Piper would never do such a thing, they’d say.

But I like this. For once, I’m not boring, safe, and predictable little Piper. I’ve walked willingly into the depths of the unknown, which comes under the guise of inked arms and a beautiful voice. He’s my first taste of wild, and he’s nothing short of delicious.

His husky whisper pulls me in. “Turn around.”

Blinking, I suffer a brief hesitation. Common sense and morals almost reel me in from the edge I’m teetering on.

Almost, but not quite.

Slowly, I turn, and my hair is tugged roughly to the side, forcing my head to whip to the left. He brings his mouth down on the back of my neck, with the graze of sharp teeth. He caresses my shoulders, then slowly trails his touch down my arms. Lacing our fingers together, he drags his lips from my neck to my shoulder while placing my palms flat against the wall.

My heart pounds so hard I’m surprised it’s not cracking my ribcage. My fingertips grip the wall as the world spins like a top around me, and I fear I may pass out from—what? Fear? Excitement?

Anticipation. Exquisite anticipation.

With my head turned to the side, he’s a large, looming shadow behind me. A few feet away, the lantern gradually grows dimmer and dimmer, running out of the energy that fuels it. Soon it will fade out completely, and we’ll be in pitch darkness.

Encircling my waist with his hands, he leans down until his lips meet the outer curve of my ear.

“Do you think I’m dirty?” he whispers as he tugs my skirt up to my waist. Just as the glow of the lantern dies out, he tears my panties off and throws them to the ground.

Gulping, I answer without even thinking. “Yes.”

“Good. I’m going to make you dirty, too,” he growls against my ear. “And it’s never going to wash off.”

I silently agree with his prediction as his hands move down my hips to cup my ass cheeks, squeezing hard. He bites into the flesh of my neck, and his wet tongue follows, soothing and then sucking savagely, causing me to cry out as he slips a hand between my thighs. Long, talented fingers slide between my wet lips. My cry morphs into a gasp, and his lips curve into a grin against the side of my throat.

An owl hoots somewhere in the trees above us.

Acorn rustles on the ground beside us.

And behind me, the distinct sound of a zipper.

A light, misty rain blows on us in the breeze. We were born in the rain, I realize, as he plunges his rock-hard length into me, lifting me off my feet. Pain seers through my body, radiating from my pelvis to my limbs. With every thrust of his hips, my cheek presses against the stone, but I can’t move. It hurts. It feels so good. I want it to stop. I want more.

He snakes his arm around my front, skims his hand down my belly, and zeroes in on my throbbing clit, fingering it in perfect time with his deep strokes. I can feel my walls tearing and stretching to take his width. The primal eroticism makes me quiver and clench around him despite the sharp pain.

Leaning his forehead against the top of my head, his damp hair hangs down over me, tickling my cheeks and bare shoulder, bringing with it the scent of sandalwood, coconut, and tobacco. My clit pulses and spasms in his fingers as he brings me to orgasm, my moans and short yelps pervading the silence of the night.

I yelp when he abruptly pulls out, spins me around, and covers my mouth with his before I have a chance to catch my breath. Wobbling on my high heels, I grip his arms, lost in the whirlwind of feelings assaulting my body and mind.

Did we—? What did we just do?

Tangled around his ring-clad fingers, my hair is pulled, forcing my head down. Forcing me to kneel on the ground.

“Suck me,” he rasps, dragging his knuckles across my cheek as he gazes down at me.

Grasping his stiff, damp cock in my hand, I take him into my mouth and lick and suck him like I’ve done this a hundred times before—which I haven’t. He tastes salty and metallic, a cocktail of us. If memories had a flavor, ours would be salt and blood. It’s disgusting and beautiful, and I lose my mind. This man is a drug and I’m an addict. I’m high on him and us, lost in the twirling world around me, every smell, sight, and touch heightened and vivid and so incredibly disconnected and hazy.

Maybe he slipped me a roofie when he kissed me. Maybe he had something on his tongue and now I’m high as a kite. Or maybe this is all just a crazy-ass sex dream and I’m going to wake up next to Archie the cat any moment with Titanic playing in the background.

I gag on the cock slamming into my tonsils.

Nope. This isn’t a dream. I’m choking on a stranger’s dick.

This isn’t me. This isn’t me. This isn’t me.

“Piper….” Grabbing the back of my head, he breathes out my name as hot cum propels down my throat. I swallow him and he slowly pulls out, skimming over my lips. I wipe my wet mouth with the back of one hand while my other clenches the side of his leg.

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