Page 5 of Sexted By a Stranger
Sheila
His words exploded in my ears, and my mind was consumed by a single thought: It's him. My blood seemed to freeze, then surge with heat all at once. Every struggle felt futile, drowned out by the deafening thud of my heartbeat, pounding so fast it threatened to burst through my chest.
Pressed against his solid, warm chest, I could feel his heartbeat vibrating in sync with mine.
Slowly, I lifted my gaze, meeting those brown eyes so close they stole my breath.
For the first time, I saw his face clearly, and it matched every detail of the handsome image I'd conjured in my mind.
High-bridged nose, sharp jawline, thin lips pressed lightly together.
His thick black hair was swept back, revealing a broad forehead, though a few rebellious strands fell forward with his movements, giving him a roguish, carefree edge.
He stared at me with such focus, and I swore I caught a flicker of tenderness in his gaze. The stranger who texted me in the dead of night, the mysterious man who saved me in my darkest hour and barged into my life with commanding presence, the one whose words alone made my heart race—it was him.
My lips trembled, but no sound came out. Anger? Gratitude? Fear? Or was it that secret thrill, that hidden anticipation I felt rereading his texts alone in the dark?
His presence enveloped me, a mix of faint tobacco and deep cologne overwhelming my senses. His fingers gripped my chin, firm but controlled, leaving me no room to look away.
"Now, you know who I am, stellina."
The last syllable dropped, and his lips crashed onto mine.
My breath was stolen, his lips claiming mine with a fierce, sucking pull, his tongue boldly prying past my teeth. It was a sensation I'd never known—warm, wet, undeniable. Instinctively, I clutched his shirt, a strange heat spreading from our joined lips through my entire body.
My brain started to fog, thoughts slipping away as oxygen dwindled. My hands, braced against his chest, weakened, and I could only surrender to his near-plundering kiss.
A soft whimper escaped my throat, startling even me.
It seemed to please him. The arm around my waist tightened, pulling me so close it felt like he wanted to fuse us together.
His other hand slid from my chin, trailing down my neck, lingering at my collarbone, sending shivers rippling across my skin.
My resolve crumbled bit by bit. My body, unpracticed and unsure, began to respond to his kiss. My tongue tentatively brushed against his, only to be caught, drawn into a dance of entwined heat.
Sheila, you're fucking insane. You're kissing a stranger.
But he wasn't entirely a stranger. Those late-night texts, those words laced with care—they were real now, transformed into the warmth and weight of his touch.
His lips pressed deeper, my body softening like it was boneless, leaning into him just to stay upright. The air filled with the intimate sounds of our breaths and the soft, wet slide of our kiss—mortifying, yet I was drowning in it.
His fingers grazed my waist, sending a jolt of electricity that made me arch closer to his chest. He let out a low, pleased chuckle, then kissed me harder, fiercer, like he was staking a claim.
My breathing turned ragged, a soft moan slipping out as his lips slid from mine to my earlobe, nipping gently.
His warm breath against my ear sent a full-body shudder through me.
"You're so damn cute," he murmured, his voice low, teasing, satisfied.
His hand drifted lower, deftly tugging the hem of my shirt free. Long fingers slipped beneath, brushing the soft skin of my waist, sparking a tingling current that made my knees weak. His eyes darkened, a hungry edge to them. "Easy, now."
His hand moved upward, pausing at the buttons of my collar. Those brown eyes locked onto mine—part question, part certainty. I just stared back, my silence an invitation.
Pleased, he made quick work of my shirt, then stripped away every layer until my bare breasts, usually touched only by my own hands, were exposed to his gaze. His eyes burned hotter, and I turned my face away, feeling utterly vulnerable.
He didn't hesitate, unbuttoning his own shirt with casual ease, revealing a chiseled chest and taut abs, his skin glowing with a healthy tan. Before I could process, he pulled me back into his arms. The press of his bare skin against mine made his desire unmistakable, hard and urgent.
My legs gave out, and I sank onto the couch. He followed, one hand braced beside me, leaning in close. His lips found my neck, trailing downward, teeth grazing my collarbone. His tongue flicked out, tracing the curve of my chest, the wet heat making my scalp tingle.
A low moan escaped me, heat pooling in my core, my panties already soaked.
His hand found one stiff nipple, kneading and tugging like it was a toy he'd just discovered. Before I could react, his mouth claimed the other, sucking gently, his tongue circling in slow, deliberate swirls.
I bit back a moan, my hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his muscle for any kind of anchor. Under his touch, my mind blurred, lost in sensation. At some point, he'd stripped us both bare, and I found myself no longer beneath him but perched on his lap.
My back pressed against his chest, my hips flush against his throbbing desire, so hot it made me want to squirm away. But his strong arms held me fast. His fingers brushed my reddened nipple, and my body melted, pliant under his control.
He wasn't done. His other hand slid downward, reaching between my thighs. I instinctively clamped my legs shut.
"Sheila, open your legs," he commanded, his palm rubbing the sensitive skin at the root of my thighs, grazing my drenched core.
"So sensitive, huh?" he teased, chuckling low.
I shot him a glare, a soft huff escaping me, but he ignored my defiance, his fingers beginning a slow, deliberate exploration. He found my clit with unnerving precision, and my body tensed, a sharp gasp escaping.
"Ah-" A quick, high-pitched moan broke free. He'd found a switch and was determined to play with it, his fingers relentless.
"Luca…" His name slipped out, my control unraveling.
"Sheila, that's it. Say my name. I love hearing you," he coaxed, his fingers never pausing.
Sensing my overwhelming need, he finally eased up, giving me a moment to catch my breath. But then his fingers dipped lower, sliding into my slick folds, teasing them apart and back together, slipping in and out. Soon, his hand was slick with my arousal.
"Bed, let's go to bed," I gasped, my voice shaky but resolute, my cheeks burning. His eyes flashed with surprise, then curved into a pleased smile.
"Yes, ma'am."
He scooped me up effortlessly, carrying me toward the bedroom. My arms looped around his neck, my heart racing like it might explode, my body thrumming with anticipation for what was to come.
He kicked the door shut behind us, the sound sharp and final, and then I was lowered onto the bed with a gentleness that took me by surprise, the cool sheets brushing against my flushed skin.
His gaze locked onto mine, a mix of raw desire and tenderness that stole my breath.
"You're shaking," he murmured, his voice low, a rumble that sent shivers down my spine.
"I'm fine," I breathed, though my voice barely registered above a whisper. Fine? No, I wasn't fine. I was electrified, every nerve in my body alive with a hunger I hadn't known I was capable of feeling.
He leaned down, capturing my lips in a deep, consuming kiss.
His tongue tangled with mine, exploring with a possessive edge.
I tasted the faint mint of his breath, his cologne enveloping me, making my head spin.
My hands roamed his back, feeling the flex and release of his muscles.
I gripped him tightly, wanting to pull him closer.
His hands traced from my shoulders, down my arms, and settled on my waist. His fingers pressed into my skin, like he could never get enough.
His kisses trailed lower, leaving a trail of heat across my skin. He lingered at my neck, nipping and sucking, drawing soft moans from me. Then my collarbone, his tongue tracing its delicate lines, making me arch into him without thinking.
When he reached my chest, he took his time, caressing slowly.
His lips closed around one nipple, teasing and sucking, while his hand gently kneaded the other.
The sensation was overwhelming, my breaths coming in gasps as my fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.
But when he reached my waist, he paused, utterly focused.
His hands gripped my sides, thumbs brushing my hipbones, lips kissing every inch, his tongue circling, even dipping into my navel, making me squirm and giggle.
He moved lower, his hands gently parting my thighs.
He looked up, silently asking for permission.
A wave of shyness hit me, but his gaze was so reassuring it calmed my nerves.
I nodded, my heart hammering so loud I thought it might burst.
He lowered his head, and the first touch of his tongue on my most intimate spot made me gasp, pleasure crashing over me like a wave.
His movements were skilled, lips and tongue working in perfect sync, guiding me to heights I'd never known.
He was slow, deliberate, like he was savoring me, cherishing me.
My body responded on its own, back arching, hands clutching the sheets.
It was all so new, so intense, almost too much to handle.
He seemed to read my every reaction, adjusting his rhythm and pressure.
When he found that perfect spot, I cried out, hips instinctively pressing toward him.
He didn't stop, guiding me relentlessly until I shattered.
"Luca!"I called his name, my body trembling uncontrollably as pleasure consumed me.
He held my hips steady, anchoring me through the overwhelming release.
When he finally pulled back, his lips glistened, and his eyes were dark with hunger.
He stood, his erection straining, and I couldn't help but stare, my mouth dry. He was… intimidatingly perfect.
He climbed onto the bed, settling between my legs, his hands framing my waist again, thumbs brushing the dip of my hips. "You okay?" he asked, his voice softer now, almost gentle.
I nodded, too breathless to speak. He leaned down, kissing me deeply, and I tasted myself on his lips—a strange, intimate thrill. His cock pressed against my entrance, and I tensed, my nerves flaring.
He paused, sensing my hesitation. "Sheila," he said, his voice low and steady, "if you're not ready, we can stop. "
I swallowed, meeting his gaze. "I want this," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I want you."
His eyes softened, and he kissed me again, slower this time, his hands stroking my sides, grounding me. "I've got you," he murmured against my lips.
He eased into me, slow and careful, watching my face for any sign of discomfort. The stretch burned, and I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders. He froze, his jaw tight. "You're-you're a virgin?" His voice was thick with surprise, but there was no judgment, only care.
I nodded, biting my lip. "Is that okay?"
"Okay?" He let out a shaky laugh, his thumb brushing my cheek. "Fuck, Sheila, it's more than okay. I just-I'll be gentle."
Anticipation surged, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might break free. He gazed down at me, eyes full of tenderness and restrained desire, silently checking in. I nodded slightly, biting my lip to hide my nerves.
True to his word, he moved with utmost care, inching forward, giving me time to adjust. Each small movement was measured, his eyes never leaving my face, watching for any sign of discomfort.
The pain faded, replaced by a strange fullness and a growing warmth that spread through me.
His hands slid to my waist, gripping softly.
His fingers sank into the curves there, like he wanted to memorize the feel of me.
When he was fully inside, he paused, kissing my forehead, letting me catch my breath.
I could feel the faint tremor in his body, his restraint evident.
His gentleness let me relax completely, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, wanting all of him.
His eyes locked on mine, almost reverent, and then he began to move—slow, steady, each thrust gentle but deliberate, like he was afraid to overwhelm me.
Our bodies found a rhythm, fitting together like they were made for each other.
Each deep thrust hit a spot inside me that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through my core, drawing soft moans from my lips.
My fingers dug into his back, feeling the heat of his skin, the strength of his muscles.
He leaned down, kissing me, his tongue mirroring the rhythm below, stealing my breath.
His hands never left my waist, gripping tightly, fingertips leaving faint marks, like he wanted to claim me completely.
The pleasure built like a rising tide, intense and unstoppable.
I called his name, my voice shaky and desperate.
He was holding back, sweat beading on his forehead, veins standing out on his neck.
"Baby, come with me," he growled, his voice a mix of command and pleading.
My body tightened, clinging to him, and as he thrust deep one more time, I fell apart, a wave of ecstasy crashing over me.
I cried out, nails digging into his shoulders, my body shaking.
He followed right after, a low groan escaping as he shuddered, releasing inside me.
We trembled together, locked in each other's arms, sweat and heat mingling until the intensity finally ebbed.
He didn't pull away right away, instead kissing me softly, lingering, like he needed to savor the moment. I was breathless, my body limp, completely spent, nestled against him.
Afterward, we lay tangled together, our breathing slowing. He brushed a damp strand of hair from my face, his touch tender, like I was something precious. "You were incredible," he whispered, voice full of awe and satisfaction. "Hang on a sec."
I watched, curious, as he stepped out of the room.
Later, when he returned with a warm cloth to clean me up, I felt a strange sense of vulnerability.
His hands moved with a deliberate slowness, the warm cloth gliding over my skin as he cleaned me with a tenderness that made my chest ache.
This man, this dangerous, powerful man, was treating me like I was the most precious thing in the world.