The Stranger Behind My Orgasm novel Chapter 4

Chapter 4: A WISH

Abigail

"I want to feel something else." My voice came out huskier than I intended.

"I want to forget. I want to be desired. I want to get fucked over and over until I can’t remember who he is anymore. I want to hurt him like he hurt me."

Careful what you wish for, Abby.

This was insane. I was about to proposition a complete stranger through a bathroom door while tipsy on a plane. I didn’t know this man and couldn’t even see him. For all I knew, I could be opening up to a serial killer.

But maybe that was exactly why I could say it. Maybe fucking a stranger would help. Maybe I just needed to feel something other than this crushing, humiliating pain.

I didn’t care if it was reckless. I didn’t care if it was stupid. Just this once, I was going to do something for me. Something that had nothing to do with being good or careful or the perfect girl Drake had expected me to be while he fucked his whores.

"Open the door."

Good lord in heaven, that voice. It was lower, rougher and it wasn’t a request. It was a command.

My fingers found the lock, but I hesitated. What if I opened the door and regretted it? Every rational thought I had left screamed this was crazy, but the wine and the pain and the desperate need to feel wanted drowned them all out.

I didn’t want to be the girl Drake had mocked anymore. I wanted to be desired. Wanted. Alive.

Leaning forward, I pressed my eye close to the gap between the door and frame, peering through to see the stranger on the other side.

My breath caught in my throat. He stood in the dim bathroom light, and even through the small gap, the sight of him made my stomach flip.

He was tall. Powerfully built. The kind of man who commanded attention without lifting a finger. A black t-shirt stretched across his impossibly broad shoulders and his muscular chest.

The fabric clung to every defined muscle, every hard plane. His arms were thick, corded with strength that made my thighs clench involuntarily.

His jet black hair looked tousled and slightly mussed like he’d run his hands through it in frustration. It made him look dangerous.

Untamed.

And his face. God, his face. It was sculpted like and chiseled, like he was a Demi-god.

A strong jaw covered in dark stubble that made me want to feel the scrape of it against my inner thighs. He had sinful lips that looked like they could deliver either filthy promises or devastating kisses.

His emerald green eyes stared at the door with an intensity that made hunger coil in my belly.

How big is his cock? The thought slammed into me.

If I was going to do this, I couldn’t deal with small cocks. A man built like that, with that kind of presence, that raw masculine energy? He had to be huge. Thick. The kind of cock that would split me open, stretch me so wide I’d feel it for days.

My pussy clenched around nothing, already aching, already wet. I straightened, swallowed hard and made my decision. My trembling fingers flipped the lock and the door swung open. Immediately, I stepped into the dimness of the bathroom to study him further.

He strode in, filling the doorway completely, even more imposing up close. The bathroom suddenly felt impossibly small, the air charged with something electric and dangerous.

His woody, expensive cologne hit me first. The kind of scent that cost more than my rent and screamed wealth and power. It wrapped around me, making my head spin worse than the wine.

Tom Ford, my wine-soaked brain supplied.

Dark ink peeked out from under his right sleeve, intricate patterns spiraling up his forearm. My eyes trailed his upper body.

I kept my head down, the oversized sweater draped over me, sunglasses firmly on my face.

Only a few strands of my red hair fell forward, partially hiding my cheeks. The space between us evaporated. Rough fingers caught my chin, tilting my face up. His touch sent heat waves straight to my core.

But I didn’t look higher. Didn’t meet his eyes through the dark lenses of my sunglasses.

God, what did his cock look like?

Oh fuck, this man was dominant.

How thick was he? Eight inches? Nine?

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