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Rose Tyler only saw one problem with taking the long route from Leeds back to London. It was the long route. Sure, it saved her money and sure she didn’t have anywhere to be for the next six-plus hours, but that also meant people.
She didn’t necessarily like people.
That wasn’t true, she admitted and sighed, looking up from her mobile to the talkative man across from her. She mostly didn’t mind people. But this bloke talked. And talked. And talked. About himself. And his A-Levels. And his—did she just doze?
“Look, Aaron,” Rose said pointedly. “I have some studying to do—” she held up her mobile for emphasis—“sorry to cut you off.”
She was the exact opposite of sorry.
“Adam,” Aaron or Adam or whoever said. “No worries, I’m going to get a drink, want anything.”
“No, thanks,” Rose said and purposely looked at her mobile.
The one with Poldark opened to page five.
Adam left the business carriage just as they pulled into Manchester. Rose closed her eyes and wished she had headphones to put off any other talkative bloke. Wasn’t that the universal signal for leave me alone? Earbuds?
“Is this seat taken?”
Rose didn’t sigh but it was a close thing. She glanced up, already shaking her head. “No.”
And promptly forgot how to form words. The man before her was tall, broad shouldered in a lean, runner sort of way, with piercing blue eyes that focused right on her. And oh, what was this? This tingle of awareness?
Rose almost leaped for joy. It’d been so long since she felt anything remotely like attraction she was beginning to think her vibrator was going to be her only lover.
He set his suit jacket carefully over the arm of the spare seat and his briefcase next to it. Rose forced her gaze back to her book but it was too late—sure, Poldark was sexy as hell, but the fictional man had nothing on the man seated opposite her.
“Reading?” he asked, his voice a gravely brush in the air between them. “Or pretending to?”
Her lips quirked up and Rose lifted her gaze. “It’s a good deterrent from unwanted conversation.” She grinned wider, her tongue teasing the side of her mouth. “But yes, I am reading.”
Was reading the same as fantasizing? Fine line there.
“Anything good?” he asked. He settled his long legs in front of him, crossing one over the other, his own mobile already out.
“Poldark,” she admitted. “The book,” she added needlessly and wondered where her brain got off to. “By Winston Graham.”
His lips quirked up, not quite a smile but not quite a smirk, either. Interesting, and Rose suddenly realized she could watch those lips all day. Oh, they were moving. What was he saying?
“Because of the show?” He nodded. “I admit, it was quite the good take on it.”
She slowly lowered her mobile. She wasn’t fooling herself—the stranger across from her already intrigued her more than Aaron. Adam. Whoever.
“I haven’t watched the English one yet, but did see the French dubbed version.” Rose grinned. “Who knew copper mining could be so sexy?”
The stranger barked out a laugh at that and the sound did things to her insides Rose didn’t even know were possible. Maybe the rest of the ride from Manchester to London wouldn’t be so long. Even with the drizzle and the poor lighting, it already looked up.
“I’m John, by the way,” he said and nodded in greeting. “John Noble.”
“Rose,” she replied. “Rose Tyler.”
“Nice to meet you, Rose Tyler.” He flashed her that half grin half smirk again. And again her eyes drifted to his mouth. “What were you doing in France?”
“Gap year.” She shrugged. “Which turned into one of those stay at the holistic spa and earn experience and money, which—” she laughed and shrugged again—“turned into studying art restoration.”
“Impressive.” John nodded and did, indeed, look impressed. “Quelle époque de l’art ?”
Rose raised her eyebrow. “Surtout les Fauves mais certains cubisme, trop,” she answered curtly. “I think that studying Fauvism and Cubism art in France also leads to studying French.”
John nodded, slightly abashed. “True, but one never knows. I hear people all day claim things they know nothing about.”
His voice sounded very strongly Manchester and Rose wondered if that added to the sexy quality of him. Which sounded ridiculous even in her head.
“What do you do?” she asked, changing the subject. Though why it mattered, Rose didn’t know. Well, yes she did. If she could stare at his lips all day, she could also listen to him speak all day.
“Astrophysicists with Oxford, I consult with the Space Agency.”
Rose blinked. “Course you do.”
He laughed then, an easy sound so at odds with his intense blue gaze. The way he watched her burned through her, a coil of need she didn’t even know existed.
Maybe now was a good time to start that List of Things to Do Before I Die. She never really had a one night stand before, they didn’t appeal—sex with a stranger held no interest for her. Except suddenly it did.
“Noble,” he snapped into his mobile. But his gaze remained on her and Rose wondered what that meant. Or if she read too much into it. Still, the intensity of his eyes as they met hers sent another zing of awareness through her.
Did she know anyone with connections to the Space Agency? Martha might know. Rose glanced at her phone and exited the ebook. Quickly texting her friend, Rose asked her if she knew a John Noble with Oxford and the Space Agency.
Martha knew everyone. Or of everyone. Ever since Prime Minister Harriet Jones recruited the best and brightest for Britain’s Golden Age, Martha made it her job to know the who’s who of the medical and academic world.
Tall, maybe forty, sexy in a different sort of way? Gorgeous blue eyes?
Rose looked back up even as she typed out: Yes. Sitting across from him on the train from Leeds.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you shouldn’t have taken the express!
Anything I should know about him?
Intense. Brilliant. Far as I know no hidden skeletons.
Martha!
Oh so you’re not thinking it?
Maybe…
Is this you taking a chance?
Maybe…
Rose grinned at the screen then looked back up at John Noble as he ended the call. For the second time in her life, she leaped. And hoped she didn’t fall.
“And what brings you to Manchester, then, Mr. Noble?”
“John.” The word rumbled from his chest and curled around her. “Call me John.”
Breath trapped in her chest, Rose barely managed a nod. “John.” It came out softer than she intended. “Family in Manchester?”
Was he wearing a ring? Rose didn’t think so, not that she looked, and now felt weird looking. Damn it, she should’ve asked Martha! No, her friend would have said.
“Settlement. Moving to London,” he said and shrugged those gorgeous shoulders. “You?”
“Leeds,” she said, heart quickening. “Had a job interview there.”
With a friend of a friend of her professor from Paris, but hey, any leg up in the job world.
“Family in London?” he asked and leaned closer.
Rose’s heart raced and she found herself leaning across her skirt-clad thighs as well. “Mum,” she admitted. “Staying there until I settle things with the museum in Leeds.”
“You got the job, then?” John asked, and once more she felt them tenor of his voice clear through her.
Rose tilted her head and studied him carefully. Leaping wasn’t so frightening. Or maybe she was still falling and didn’t realize it. “Nothing in life is certain,” she said. “Except death and taxes. And not even those if you’re rich enough.”
John laughed and nodded. “So how do two strangers on a train entertain themselves for a two hour ride?”
“I assume by not plotting ways to kill someone in our lives,” she quipped. “The book was better.”
Again he barked out a laugh. “You have eclectic tastes in literature, Rose Tyler.”
“I had a library card and a need to pretend I wasn’t on the council estate, John Noble,” she shot back.
Once again his eyes appraised her. Rose met his gaze head on, waiting. For what, she didn’t know but she waited. Measured the seconds ticking by with her heartbeats, but it beat too fast. Energy she hadn’t felt since arriving in France once more sparked along her nerves, trapped. Waiting to explode from her fingertips.
“Rose,” the nasally voice of Adam said from the aisle. “There you are.”
Rose glanced up at the man and hastily looked back at her mobile. Damn. She’d forgotten about him, and hoped he forgot her as well. No such luck, though it seemed he had more than a single drink.
She rummaged in her bag for her journal and a pen, absently saying hello to Adam while surreptitiously looking at John. His gaze never left her, and Rose wondered what he saw.
“I believe this is my seat, mate,” Adam said.
“I’m sure it’s not. Be a good chap and find another.” John barely glanced at Adam, but the dismissal was clear as day.
Rose turned to a new page in her book and tapped the pen on the blank sheet. Apropos, she thought and watched John through her eyelashes. He still didn’t look away from her.
“Hey,” Adam began.
John stood and blocked his path. “The lady doesn’t want to speak with you. Now shove off.”
Rose felt another bolt of that tingling desire warm her. Who knew she loved the domineering sort? She hadn’t ever before, but it was one more quality to John she wanted. Er…admired?
Adam hastily backed off, muttering about chavs and sugar daddys, but Rose ignored him.
“Sorry about him,” John said gruffly.
Rose shrugged. “I’ve listened to his type my entire life. Their posh upper middle classism and multiple A-Levels.” She shook her head and laughed. “If he thinks calling me a chav is something new he doesn’t know estate girls.”
John’s intense blue eyes bore into her once more and again that flush of desire heated her skin. Could he tell? Did he notice her heated face and know the reason?
“What are you writing?” John asked in a clear attempt to change the subject. “Or was that to put off our friend?”
“Oh.” Rose looked down at the list of five items and shrugged. What harm could there be in sharing? Wasn’t like she’d ever see him again. Even if she was lucky. In more ways than one.
“It’s my list,” she admitted. “Of things I want to do before I die.”
“Sorta like a bucket list?” he asked, his expressive lips tugging down at the corners.
“Yeah, suppose. Sounds morbid when you put it like that; I have no plans to die any time soon. But if there’s one thing I learned in my extended gap year, it’s that nothing’s set in stone. Or on canvas, if you like.”
That earned her another smile, and the corners of his eyes crinkled with the movement. Forget the list; Rose suddenly wanted to draw this fascinating man in front of her.
Possibly nude.
Definitely nude. And she didn’t do body sketches, let alone nudes. Still, Rose had a feeling John Noble would be well worth the sitting.
“What does one put on a list like that?” John asked.
Rose felt as if they were the only two in the carriage, though the business class of the train was quite crowded for an early Wednesday evening. What little sunlight broke through the late afternoon clouds barely dented the interior and the minimal lighting did little to illuminate their seats.
“I’m not climbing a mountain,” she said, tongue teasing the side of her mouth. Nope, not her imagination—he definitely watched it. “I’d rather not kill myself in pursuit of gaining experiences.”
“Fair enough.” John nodded, hands relaxed on the armrest. “I have climbed a mountain: Kilimanjaro.”
“You think you’re so impressive,” she shot back.
He looked amusedly affronted. “I am so impressive!”
Rose tilted her head, studying him. “Wouldn’t have guessed you were the mountain climbing type.”
John frowned, more a grimace actually, and shook his head. “Not really. But a friend wanted to do it and I refused anything more. Had a fair idea I’d survive Kilimanjaro, not so sure about K2 or Everest.”
She wrinkled her nose. “No, ta. How far did you get?” Not that she knew a damn thing about the mountain except it was in Africa.
“Made it to Moshi city base.” He grinned, and it changed his entire face. Still intense, still watchful, but his smile made her heart pound that much harder.
“And…where is that in relation to the summit?”
“About thirty kilometers.”
“Didn’t make it all the way?” And wow, that had a lot more innuendo than she planned.
“Not that day,” John said, clearly hearing the innuendo. “There’s always another day.”
“So there is,” Rose murmured.
She tore her gaze from his and re-crossed her legs. It did absolutely nothing to help the throbbing of her clit or her intense desire to feel his fingers against her slick folds. Good Lord, what happened to her? Was it the Leeds air? The train? She knew she should’ve packed her own bottle of water and not bought a dodgy plastic bottle with who knew what chemicals contaminating it.
“I want to hike the Lizard Peninsula in Cornwall,” Rose admitted and held up her mobile, now very much not on her ebook of Poldark. “There are a few places in Britain alone I want to hike.”
“Ever been to the Lake District?” John asked and how was it he now sat closer to her? “Beautiful up there.”
“It’s on my list.” Rose grinned and held up her journal.
“Is conversations with a stranger on a train there as well?” John asked and Rose definitely did not miss the innuendo in his voice. The dead couldn’t miss that.
“It is now,” she whispered. And then, because why the hell not, she added, “Possibly a one-night stand with a stranger on a train.”
John’s eyes didn’t widen in surprise, but they did harden. Not because he was angry or shocked, no. Oh, no. He leaned closer in invitation. Drawing her in with his ice-blue gaze. Rose suddenly wondered if this was a good idea, new experience or not. But her body all but itched for him.
“Is that what you want, Rose Tyler?” John asked. “A one-night stand?”
“Yes.” The word barely made it past her lips, and she licked them. John’s gaze flicked from hers to her lips and back again. “With the right stranger.”
“And am I the right stranger?” John reached out and caressed her knee through the sheer stockings she’d worn for her interview.
Best purchase ever.
“Could be,” she said. But then she shivered from his touch, his surprisingly calloused hand on her outer thigh. “Yes.”
His eyes darkened, now a stormy grey—the choppy waters of the ocean by Cornwall. His fingers brushed the top of her thigh where her skirt ended. Rose shivered again, her nipples hard and aching for his touch. He had to see them through the thin purple silk of her button-down.
“You know nothing about me,” John said and his voice rolled over her like sin.
“Isn’t that the point of a one-night stand?” Rose asked, her voice surprisingly firm despite the need pounding through her sex in time with her heartbeat. “Sex with a stranger?”
“How far are you willing to go?” His fingers slipped beneath her skirt and Rose forgot how to breathe. “How far are you willing to take this?”
“I—I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s my first one-night stand, remember.”
“How can that be?” John murmured, but didn’t remove his hand. Didn’t stop stroking her thighs; his fingers slipped between her crossed legs, bunching the material as he caressed higher.
“Not big on sex with a stranger,” she admitted, but her voice broke on the last word. All her breath rushed out of her.
“Why me, then? To fulfill a fantasy?”
Rose shook her head. “No. I don’t know,” she admitted. “Sex with a stranger never did anything for me. I want a connection, something deeper if I’m going to open myself up to an enjoyable, sexual experience. But you—you do things to me.”
His fingers stilled. John said nothing, and after a moment continued stroking her. “How far are you willing to go?” he repeated.
This was it then. Her moment of truth. Saying she wanted it and following through were two different things. And it wasn’t like hiking Cornwall or Hadrian’s Wall or anything of the like. Could she stop if she wanted? Probably. That wasn’t the question.
The real question was: did she want to stop? And Rose’s answer was a resounding no.
“As far as you’ll take me.”
John growled then, and the possessive sound made Rose shudder. The moan escaped her lips before she realized it; at the sound, John’s fingers clenched on her thigh. Her fingers curled around the arms of her seat, and she just barely resisted opening her legs to his touch. Anything so long as he kept touching her.
“Take off your knickers,” he commanded.
Rose hesitated. John watched her, his mouth set in a firm line bracketed by this goatee and really she just wanted to kiss those lips. He didn’t sigh or prod her, didn’t push or belittle. John simply waited, his hands still loose on the chair’s armrests, but his eyes. They pinned her to the seat.
Her choice then.
With minimal wiggling, and a quick prayer it was dark enough outside and dim enough in, she took off her knickers. Rose didn’t glance at them—she didn’t need to. She knew damn well how aroused she was and knew it was reflected on the thin cotton of her knickers.
She shoved them in her oversized handbag, eyes still on John’s.
In his gaze, she saw approval and deeper—the same tempestuous need lighting her veins. She sat and waited, feet planted evenly on the floor and feeling far more exposed than she thought possible.
How was it that aroused her all the more? Her mind skipped from point to point: from actually climbing on him and shagging him in the carriage to wondering if her arousal would leak through her skirt.
Mostly she tried to guess his next command. And how did she never know she had a kink?
“Stop it.” John barked. But it was soft, so low Rose knew only she heard him.
She tilted her head and frowned. “Stop what?”
“Trying to second guess yourself. If you want to stop, all you have to do is say so.” He waited, but she didn’t want to stop. The giddy need swirled through her and Rose did her best not to let it show. She had a feeling she failed spectacularly.
“I don’t want to stop,” she admitted.
Her voice sounded far softer to her than it felt, but Rose heard the firmness in her words. Knew John did as well. His eyes alighted with something—approval, desire, she wasn’t certain. He leaned over his crossed legs but didn’t touch her again. She really wanted him to touch her again.
“How wet are you?” he asked, the words a caress of need across her nerves.
Rose licked her lips. She’d never talked dirty like this, either. Clearly her sex life had been seriously lacking. Some part of her mind not pinpointed on what was happening between the two of them wondered if she needed to add that to her list. Maybe later. Definitely later.
“Very.” She swallowed hard. “I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been this aroused.”
“Show me.”
The command jolted through her and Rose clenched her thighs together. But she frowned at him. Did he want her to hike up her skirt and bare herself to him?
Oh good God, that thought sent another bolt of desire through her. The exhibitionism of it with thirty or so other people on this train. How did she not know herself well enough to know she needed this? That his simple, erotic commands did things to her? Heady, addicting things she suddenly wanted to thoroughly explore?
Deciding he didn’t really mean that, hiking her skirt up and baring her wet sex to him, Rose crossed her legs—alas, no relief there—and slipped a finger beneath her skirt. She brushed the digit over her slickness once, twice, teasing herself open with each stroke. Finally, unable to look away from John’s eyes, she eased her finger into her core.
“Two.”
“Yes,” she breathed and did as he ordered.
Two fingers easily in. When she removed them, careful not to brush her skirt, Rose didn’t feel awkward. She felt—empowered. Yes, empowered and as if they were the only two people on the train.
John took her fingers, slick with arousal, in his hand. He cupped the side of her wrist almost tenderly and lifted the wet digits to his mouth. Rose forgot how to breathe. Or think. And then he slipped her fingers into his mouth and it was all over.
She nearly came from that alone. Already so close, Rose knew not much stood between her and the edge of the cliff—from her falling, quite willingly, over that edge.
“You’re right,” he said, breath brushing her fingers. They were now wet from his mouth and she wondered what he tasted like. What he tasted like with her on his lips. “You are aroused.” John leaned closer. “I bet I can make you even more so.”
“I didn’t know that was possible,” she said before she taught her words through. Flushing, this time in embarrassment, Rose bit her lip but didn’t—couldn’t—look away from him. “Considering I’ve never done anything remotely like this, I’m shocked I’m this wet.”
John sat back, his eyes flashing darker. Rose curled her fingers onto her lap and wondered what came next.
“We have a long ride back to London, Rose Tyler. Can you wait that long?”
He was going to make her wait? Well of course—despite her brief fantasy about shagging him in his seat, Rose didn’t really think that’d happen. Though doing so, knowing a trainful of people might see…. It held appeal in a way she didn’t want to think about just now.
“I guess we’ll see, won’t we,” she murmured. “What are you going to do once we’re in London?”
Her breath came too fast and her heart raced, but she sat perfectly still and waited. Oh, she wanted to touch herself—more she wanted him to touch her. Wanted his fingers in her wetness, wanted his cock stretching her.
“I’m going to teach you an entirely new world of sex.” And he said it so serenely, so matter of fact, that if Rose hadn’t her entire attention on him she’d have missed the dark thread to his words. It only enticed her more.
She shifted on the seat, tried to find some relief, but already knew it was pointless.
“Don’t move,” he murmured. “Not until I tell you to.”
Stilling, Rose watched him. “And when you tell me to?”
“You wanted this,” he reminded her. “If at any time you don’t, say the word.”
Wasn’t there supposed to be some sort of safe word? In this case, was it no? Stop? Rose nodded slowly. “All right. If it comes to that I’ll tell you to stop.”
Satisfaction flashed over his face and John nodded, once. “When I tell you to,” he said and settled back in his seat, “you’ll do exactly as I say. All right?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
The rest of the ride Rose alternated between wanting a quick orgasm just for some relief and wanting to prolong this—game? What did once call this?— between them. She had a feeling the quick orgasm she wanted would pale compared to what John Noble had in mind.
They exited the train four stops before hers and ducked into a corner market for condoms. The plan, so far as he explained in those low words that rumbled over her skin, was to head to his hotel and take it from there.
Rose frowned. “That’s it?”
He looked down at her as they crossed the street with a hundred others. John took her hand, the one still coated with her scent, and tugged her closer. Each step reminded Rose she was bare beneath her skirt; with each step her skirt rubbed over her bare arse, her uncovered pussy.
It felt divine. The satin lining of her skirt against her bareness made her want to go knicker-less all the time simply to feel the exquisite brush against her. Thankfully she shaved today but suddenly thought investing in a good waxing might be in order.
How daring did she want to be? Full Brazilian? The thought suddenly held appeal.
On the opposite side of the street, she expected John to release her hand, now that whatever danger they had of separation passed.
John did nothing like she expected.
“What more do you want?”
Everything. She barely stopped herself from saying that and swallowed hard. Her body still pulsed with need, though he hadn’t ordered her to do more than slip a finger into her wetness every now and then.
Anticipation kept her on edge, coiling tighter and tighter within her. John seemed to know that, too.
“I believe,” she said coolly, “we’ve established I’m new to this. I’ve agreed to your rules, I simply want to understand them.”
“A rule woman, eh?” he looked down at her with amusement, but Rose knew—how she didn’t know but she knew—he didn’t laugh at her. Maybe he found this entire situation as amusing as she found it invigorating. Or maybe—and she hoped so—it was her.
“I prefer rules,” Rose acknowledged. “That way I know where I stand.”
“No jumping in and using the wrong verbs, eh?” John nodded. “Fair enough. The rules are simple. If you don’t like what I’m doing, we stop. All you have to do is say so. Until you do, everything else is fair game. I won’t hurt you.”
He stopped and tugged her around the edge of a building and looked at her seriously. “I promise I won’t hurt you.” His fingers brushed her cheek, twirled a lock of hair that came free of her bun and carefully tucked it behind her ear.
Rose’s heart flipped.
“I will, however,” he said in that mesmerizing voice that captivated her from the start, “push you to your limits.”
She licked her lips. “I leaped this far,” she said, stronger than she thought herself capable. “I can leap all the way.”
John beamed at her. “Fantastic!”
They continued the walk in silence, though hand-in-hand. That surprised Rose, but she didn’t feel the need to release his hand or put distance between them. She had, after all, just agreed to have sex with a stranger and what promised to be kinky sex with a very handsome and thrilling stranger she met on a train.
Once in his hotel room, a very posh boutique hotel she immediately loved, John set his things in the entry way and took her lightweight coat.
“Want to back out?”
The fact he offered one final time, warmed Rose and spurred her on. “No. But I am going to text a friend.” She met his gaze evenly.
John nodded and didn’t look at all put out. In fact, he looked agreeable, almost willing for her to do just that.
Rose quickly texted Martha the name of the hotel, room number, that yes, she was about to have sex with John Noble, and no she probably wasn’t thinking properly, this definitely wasn’t like her, but it was thrilling all the same.
You have an hour—no, I’ve seen him. Not my type, but I can see how he’s yours. You have 4 hours. If I don’t hear from you by then, I’m storming the castle. With reinforcements.
Fair enough, Rose texted back and locked her mobile before slipping it into her purse. Then she turned and waited.
“Take your blouse, bra, and skirt off,” John said almost immediately.
Rose unbuttoned her blouse and draped it over the desk chair, her bra atop it. She kept her gaze on him as she did this, her blood racing through her veins, pounding in her ears. She kept her skirt for last, not entirely sure why.
Well, yes she did—with each movement of her body the satin lining brushed over her, and Rose found that addicting. The rush of pleasure every brush elicited brought fresh moisture to her core. Clearly the arousal she felt prior to today was but a literal trickle.
Finally she reached around her waist and slipped the button free from the hole, sliding the zipper down and slowly, purposely tantalizing her sensitive skin as she slid the skirt over her bare hips.
“You like that,” John said, approvingly.
His eyes locked on her, not on her hard nipples or her bare sex, but on her eyes. It moved through her, the power in his gaze, the power she felt despite obeying his orders.
“I do,” Rose admitted. “I like the feel of my skirt on my bare—” she swallowed but in for a penny and all that—“pussy.” She brushed her fingers over the neatly shaved area and closed her eyes at the feel of his eyes on her movements. “I find I like being naked underneath my clothes.”
John surged to his feet, and Rose glanced down. She was not disappointed when she saw his hard cock through his trousers. She shivered at the sight and licked her lips. Hungry for a taste of this man.
“Do you like knowing how hard I am for you, Rose?” John asked and threaded his fingers with hers. He pressed her finger to her clit and held it there. Not hard enough for anything but more teasing, just hard enough she wanted to use his fingers to pleasure herself—it wouldn’t take long. Not long at all. “The entire train ride I knew you had no knickers on and wanted to taste more of your juices.”
Rose shuddered, whimpered. She stood there, wearing only her heels and sheer thigh-high stockings, and had never wanted anything as she did John Noble in this moment.
He released her hand, placing it by her hip, and his fingers brushed over her nipples. Desperate for a touch—his touch—Rose arched into his hands, wordlessly begging him. His calloused fingers brushed around her nipples, gaze on hers. And then John twisted them, hard tugs that had Rose crying out, her hips bucking against his thigh.
“Yes,” she hissed, forcing her eyes open.
John leaned closer, his mouth a breath from her ear. His words clawed through her, the dark promise in them, the barely leashed passion.
“Turn around, Rose.” John said, his large hands on her hips. “Spread your legs wide and lean against the bed.”
Legs wobbling, clit throbbing, that desperate need to burn in his touch, his words, Rose obeyed. She leaned over the bed, head pillowed in her arms, and spread her legs.
“Wider. I want to see you.”
Breathing fast, Rose spread her legs wider, intensely glad for the high king bed. His hand landed, hard, on her arse, and she gasped.
“If you want to stop,” John said, his fully-clothed body brushing her back, “say the word. I’ll stop if you tell me to.”
Rose frantically shook her head. “I don’t want to stop.”
His hand caressed the cheek he’d smacked and her hips involuntarily jerked against the edge of the bed. “Like it?” he asked, but then laughed, a rich, dark sound that made her moan again. “I can tell you did. No one’s ever spanked you before.”
Her breath caught and Rose shook her head again. “No. I didn’t know I wanted it until today.”
John smacked her again, slightly harder and she cried out, hips arching into his touch. “And now?”
“I want it,” she admitted, torn between the slight pain and the promise of pleasure even now piercing her sex, tearing at her nerves, begging for more.
His hand came down again. And again, and Rose cried out. Who cared they were in a hotel? Who cared the walls were probably thin as paper. She did not—she relished it in fact. Wanted everyone to know what happened in this room. With each smack, her arousal twisted tighter. Her fingers clawed for purchase, skin afire.
“More,” she begged when he stopped. “Please, I want more.”
“I know you do,” John said behind her, his voice a ghost along the back of her neck, along her shoulders. His finger gentle on her arse, the backs of her thighs only sent that arousal higher until she sobbed and pleaded. “But not today. You’re new to this, Rose, and I promised not to hurt you.”
She shook her head, face sweaty, hair sticking to her cheeks, body burning for his touch, for the pain of his hand on her arse. For the bedding against her clit—for his mouth on her, his fingers inside her. Anything.
“Turn around, Rose,” John said and she hastened to obey. “Sit on the edge of the bed and keep your legs spread wide.”
She hurt, but the pleasurable burn only excited her more as she purposefully slid her thighs and arse along the bedding. Rose’s fingers drifted to her sex, desperate and pulsing with need, begging for relief.
“Don’t touch yourself.” His order rang across the room and Rose instantly stilled.
Instead, breathing hard, she curled her fingers into the bedding and watched him. He undressed, tossed his suit jacket over a chair and slowly, as if he had nothing more to do in the world than watch her ache for him, he stripped down.
Rose licked her lips, eyes riveted to his cock. Hard and beautiful, she wanted to wrap her lips around it and taste him. Wanted to feel his thickness in her, stretching her wide as he fucked her into the bed, her arse on fire, her body curling into his.
“Have you ever tasted yourself before, Rose?” John asked and walked a step closer.
She tore her gaze from his beautiful cock and looked into his beautiful, stormy, eyes. Slowly nodding, she licked her lips again and swallowed. “Yes,” she admitted, oddly embarrassed to tell him such a thing when she sat, naked, spanked, and flushed with arousal, in front of him.
“Dip two fingers into your pussy and taste yourself.”
Eager to obey, Rose did as instructed, easily slipping two fingers into her slick sex. She pulled them out, unable to stop the whimper of loss, and slipped her fingers into her mouth. John’s breath caught and the growl made her shudder.
He stood before her in one step, gently taking her fingers from her mouth. His fingers wrapped in her hair, yanking her head back as he kissed her. Rose opened to his mouth, kissing him back as eagerly as he took her. Devoured, more like. He bent her over the bed and Rose clenched at his shoulders even as her body welcomed his weight.
“Damn it.” John cursed and stood.
Rose cried out, her sex clenching, her nipples aching, everything in her desperate to feel him atop her, slid into her.
“Condom.”
He rolled it on and resumed him position atop her before Rose registered the twin sensations of satisfaction and loss. Braced on his forearms, fingers tangled in her hair, John took her. Rose didn’t know how else to describe it; she floated on waves that battered her with intensity and pleasure and—everything.
“I want to hear you, Rose,” John said, lips kissing down her jaw. “I want to hear you scream your orgasm. I want everyone in this hotel to know I fucked you.”
“Yes.” Her nails dug into his back, his shoulders, legs wrapped around his hips. She briefly wondered if her heels dug into his thighs, but then she came.
Her orgasm tore through her and she did scream her pleasure. Her hips ground against his, back arched as she rode the impossible wave of her climax. It took her higher and higher and she didn’t think she’d ever fall.
John thrust harder, hiked one of her legs over his arm and took her. Rose felt another orgasm build and eagerly grasped it. She wanted all of it. Everything he had to offer her.
She cried out, a wordless plea for more and completion and wrapped herself tighter around John, wanting this to last forever. He continued to move, another thrust then another and came hard. His hips bucked into hers, fingers tangling in her hair.
Boneless, Rose opened her eyes and let her limbs fall to the bed. Struggling to catch her breath, she wanted to reach up and trace the lines of John’s face, the length of his nose, the mole on his right cheek. Wanted to kiss him again, she never enjoyed kissing a bloke more than him.
Her body refused to obey her. After waiting hours, hovering on the brink of orgasm, the two intense ones she just had took everything out of her. John eventually pulled out and took care of the condom. Rose barely managed to lift her head and watch him do so.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, walking deliciously naked back into the room.
“I—” Rose frowned. “I’m at a loss for words,” she said honestly. They started this strange journey with honesty, she wasn’t about to stop now.
Struggling onto her elbows, her arse and thighs brushing the bedding, Rose watched him. He didn’t pull back or look away, but stood in front of her. His cock was flaccid now, but that didn’t diminish her wish to reach out and stroke him. Or his hips. Any part of him, really—every part of him.
“That was the most incredible, intense, amazing sex I’ve ever had.” Rose tilted her head and let her tongue tease the side of her mouth. “I never knew it could be like that. I always thought books and movies exaggerated.”
John frowned then chuckled. He reached out and brushed her hair from her face, gentle and caring with each movement. “It can be a lot of ways. Haven’t you had a lover who showed you good sex?”
Rose frowned. “Only had a couple. Believe it or not, I’m not normally this, erm…outgoing.”
He looked stunned for a moment then slowly nodded. “That’s what the list was for. To push your boundaries.”
She nodded. “I have to say, you pushed my boundaries a lot farther than I ever thought I’d go.”
John laughed, which he was meant to do, a light, gentle chuckle and Rose joined in. They stayed like that for a while, her on the bed too languid to move and him watching her. There was probably symbolism in that—he standing and her lying, but she couldn’t be bothered to care.
“Are you hungry?” John asked. “We can order room service.”
“Oh!” Rose leaped up, body twinging in all together pleasant ways. “Martha!” She raced to her handbag and grabbed her mobile. “No messages, I guess I’m within her timeframe.”
She hurriedly typed out a text: I’m fine—amazing sex! Dinner now. Call you after. Promise.
The amazing sex part was a slight misnomer. Amazing didn’t begin to cover it.
When Rose turned around, still naked, only in her stockings and heels, John was sitting on the bed ordering food. The in-room menu was open but he looked directly at her. She walked back to the bed, adding an extra sway to her hips as she did so and enjoying the way her sore muscles pulled.
Rose threaded her fingers through his close-cropped hair. There was so much she didn’t know about him, but when his hand rested lightly on the back of her thigh, just below where he’d spanked her, she had the wild feeling of wanting to do just that. Know this man.
Leaning down, and not bothering to sort out the impulse to do so, she kissed him just as he disconnected the call. His tongue slid over hers, the kiss easier than the bruising taste of their first kiss. Lighter. Rose wanted more. She wanted, she was not at all shocked to discover, a whole lot more with this man.
“Stay for dinner?” he murmured, hands sliding up her hips.
“I’d like that,” Rose agreed. Then wrinkled her nose. “And maybe a shower.”
John grinned, but didn’t pull back. “How does the book end?”
Rose tilted her head and tried to remember what book they were talking about. Poldark? “Oh. Strangers on a Train?”
John nodded.
“Guy confesses everything to one of his wife’s lovers and the detective overhears and arrests him. Not at all like the movie where he gets away with it and marries the woman he loves.”
“Hmm,” John hummed and stood, interlacing their fingers. “The books are always better than the movies.”
Rose laughed and let him lead her into the bathroom. “You know,” she said, looking at her feet. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to wear these heels again.”
He followed her gaze and when it met hers, the look in them ignited the barely banked fire within her.
“I’d like to see you again, Rose Tyler.” John brushed her hair off her cheek again, and the gentle movement once more made her heart flip oddly in her chest.
“I’d like that, too, John Noble.”
He grinned then and started the shower. “Fantastic.”