No Names, No Promises

[Charlotte]

Kissing this man is a drug, a dangerous powerful elixir giving me life while also stealing my breath.

Our bodies are locked together for the entire ride as we sample one another, our hands tentatively exploring, enjoying the first taste of what the night promises.

The car stops outside one of the most expensive hotels in the city. Once his driver opens the door, my devil helps smooth my dress down as he gently rocks me forward, pulling me out of the back seat. He drapes his jacket across my shoulders, shielding my body from the view of others in a way that feels both possessive and protective.

“Welcome home, Sir,” the door attendant tips his hat to us as he opens the door for us.

Hand in hand he leads me to the elevator. As soon as the doors close behind us, he walks me into the wall of the elevator, kissing me gently at first, and then more passionately. His hand reaches down to cup my bottom and feeling bold I lean against him, hooking my right leg to his hip so that he can get even closer, his arms keeping me steady.

When the doors open to his penthouse, he scoops me into his arms, pushes open the door to his bedroom, and gently sets me onto the fine cotton sheets. He joins me on the bed, pressing himself into my hands which are busy discovering the beautifully sculpted contours of his chest. Placing himself between my legs as he kisses me, pushing us both into the soft mattress, I wrap my legs around his waist as we melt into one another, the simple touch of his body against mine creating cascading ripples of pleasure throughout my body. As he moans into my lips and I come undone, my body feels liquid in his hands.

Behind him, The San Francisco skyline glows faintly in the distance, lighting the otherwise dark room, casting his body in silhouette, making him seem bigger as he looms over me, licking his lips as if deciding which part of me he wants to consume first.

I use his shirt to pull him down to me again. Licking a trail from his neck to his navel, I nibble here and there, leaving little teeth marks along his collarbone. He hisses in pleasure before taking back control. Sitting above me, he unzips the front of my dress, the zipper starting at the neckline and extending down to the bottom. Unwrapping me like a present, my dress falls to both sides, my body nude like an offering. Every roll and curve, every mark from bearing my children, is in full view, etched across my skin like battle scars. I lay before him vulnerable and exposed. I reach my hands up to cover my breasts and stomach.

He grabs both arms, holding them captive above my head.

“Mon Dieu,” he pants, taking a moment to enjoy the view. “You are stunning.”

Starting at my eyes, he kisses each one before kissing my nose, my lips, and the hollow of my neck. The whole time he doesn't let me cover myself, keeping my arms above my head.

"So beautiful," he repeats as he makes his way down my body. "Perfect. My Angel."

When he reaches my mound, he begins to suck on my clit through the silk of my panties, using his tongue and teeth to play with my little nub, setting off fireworks in my mind. My breath grows short, as I grab a handful of sheet and bite my tongue to keep from screaming. Andy always shamed me for being too loud, saying it made me sound like a whore.

Looking up, seeing me so close to climax, he smiles. "I want you to sing for me, mon cher, I want to hear the pleasure that I bring you."

"But what if I'm too loud," I protest.

"Impossible," he grins impishly as he kisses his way down my inner thigh.

Grabbing my legs by the knees, he scoots me closer. Biting the band of my thong, he removes my panties using his teeth, licking his lips as he wraps my legs around his neck.

“Better,” he purrs, his crisp California consonants melting away, his accent becoming decidedly more southern. The sound of his voice warms me up from the inside out, charming me. It is sexy and exotic, and coming from a man like him, dangerous.

He begins to devour me, to claim me with his mouth in a way that I have never experienced. I had always wanted to experience this but have never had the opportunity. As his tongue tunnels his way into my core, my eyes roll back into my head, my back arching as I scream my pleasure into the night.

Wiping his face with the corner of his shirt, he looks satisfied and smug. "Oh don't get too comfortable, cher. The night is still young."

I shiver at the thought of all the delicious things he has in store for me.

“Tell me your name,” he begs as he begins to fumble with the buckle on his belt.

“No names,” I pant, reaching up to help him, “And no promises. I just need to forget. Please help me forget.”

“That I can do, Angel,” he kicks off his shoes and rejoins me on the bed, pulling off the rest of his clothes. “When I’m done with you, you’ll never think of anyone else again.”

For those few hours of bliss, he keeps his word. I forget about everyone and everything, living in this moment with him.

By the time we are fully spent and lying side by side, I am completely sober and a sense of dread begins to descend on me like a dark cloud. This is not how I was raised to behave. I have never been this type of girl.

Waiting until I know he is asleep, I creep out carefully. I can't find my dress, so I grab his white button-front shirt to cover myself. It is so large on me that it goes down to my knees like a dress and smells so strongly of him that I almost swoon. Perfect. Something to remember him by.

Closing the door behind me quietly, I creep out of the room like a bandit. I am not ready to face what complications the daylight might bring, and I am sure he won't mind not having to pretend to care for me in the morning. If I see him the next day he'll become real. This night, that man, was too amazing to be real. My mind needs it to remain a fantasy.

"Goodbye, Devil," I smirk, thinking of his charming, mischievous smile. “I hope I never see you again.”

[Micah]

It is morning. The harsh light of daybreak hurts my eyes as I blink awake. That was the best sleep I have ever had, wrapped in the arms and thoughts of a beautiful woman. A woman who has vanished, leaving without a word or a note.

Her lingering perfume reminds me of the night we shared, and I find myself growing hard at the memory.  Everything about her is perfect: Her hair, her eyes, how the curves of her body fit seamlessly against my own, the way she curls her toes as she moans. She is strong and soft, passionate and wanton with a hunger inside of her that is all-consuming yet welcoming and inviting, giving as much as she takes.

Whoever broke her heart didn't deserve her. She was someone meant to be honored and worshiped, not discarded and left to cry alone in a bar, made to feel so low that she would take comfort in a stranger.

I didn't even get her name.

But that's what she wanted. Anonymity.

But I want more.

I will find her.

My angel.

She will be mine.