Beautiful Beloved

“So we’re people who check in to hotels by the hour now?” Max joked, standing to take our bill to the register. He scratched his jaw. “I am surprisingly comfortable with this.”

It was impossible not to feel like we were up to something as we checked in to a swank little hotel down the block. We had no luggage, had made the reservation less than fifteen minutes ago, and I’m sure the way I kept looking at Max—like I might throw him down on the counter at any minute—might have suggested we were up to something a bit less wholesome than a nap.

Not to mention that the New York State driver’s license Max showed as proof of ID had a mailing address located less than ten minutes away. Whatever. I was going to fuck my husband; they could think whatever they want.

“If possible we’d like a room in the most empty part of the hotel,” Max said. “We plan on being loud.”

The clerk looked down at Max’s ID and blinked back up at him again, bored, before rolling his eyes and moving to swipe our card.

Inside the elevator, Max pressed me against the far wall, pushing his hand into my hair. “Tell me what you want, sweet Sara,” he said, running his nose along my jaw. “This is your night, and I want to do every filthy thing in that devious little mind of yours.”

“I want you,” I said. “Over me, behind me.”

He hummed against my skin, and I felt every bit of anxiety melt away. He wasn’t overthinking. He wasn’t treating me like something he had to handle with kid gloves.

“And?” he said.

I tilted my head, looked up to see our reflections in the mirrored ceiling of the elevator. The sight of our bodies together—even clothed—sent a shiver down my spine.

“I want your face between my legs,” I told him. “I want you wild.”

He exhaled, and made the tiniest, neediest sound. “You know I love how you taste. Would I lick you, Petal?”

Jesus. “Yes.”

“Would I be greedy and suck, get my face covered in you? Or do you want me to take my time?”

“All of it. Rough at first and then again, slower. Savoring,” I said, though who knew how much time we would actually get. I watched as Max pushed open the collar of my shirt to reveal the top swell of my breasts. I could easily imagine what we would look like from that angle: me naked on my back, legs spread shamelessly open with Max between them. I would see the flex of muscle as he devoured me, my fingers in his beautiful hair as I pulled and held him where I wanted. The flex of my toes as my orgasm moved up my body and out. As I screamed.

The elevator stopped and Max reached for my hand, practically tugging me down the hall and toward our room. “All of it,” he said, slotting the key into the door. “I’ll give you fucking all of it.” The light glowed green as the lock clicked, and he pushed it open. Inside, it was my turn to push Max against the wall. I stood on my toes to reach his mouth, pressing my lips to his and not wasting any time as I opened his belt and began pulling his shirt from the waist of his pants. “I want to take pictures of you,” I said, and he pulled away just long enough to meet my eyes.

“Of me?”

I nodded and leaned in to suck on his bottom lip. “Of what you look like while you lick my . . . pussy.”

Max groaned and let his head fall back against the door. “You have no idea what it does to hear you talk like that.” I wondered if maybe this would help. If what Chloe had said was true, maybe it would be easier for him to let go if I used him first.

I trailed a hand over his navel and down to where he was hard and straining against the material of his pants. I gripped the shape of him, rubbing my thumb where I felt the head of his cock. “Oh, I think I have an idea of what it does to you.”

Max began walking us backward, stopping just at the side of the bed. He pulled his phone from his pocket and pressed it into my hand. “Let’s pray that this stays quiet, and that it’s because Will has found his maternal instinct, and not because our child has suddenly learned that everyone will do precisely what she wants, and has enslaved them both.”

I laughed, and set it on the bedside table.

“So what will you do with those pictures, sweet Petal?” he said, opening the buttons on my shirt one by one, and letting it slip from my shoulders.

“Look at them. Remember.”

“When? At work?” he asked, and unfastened my bra, pulling the straps down my arms, and absently tossing it into a chair against the wall. “Maybe you’ll be in a meeting, everyone talking around you while you look down at your phone. They’ll think you’re looking at your calendar, maybe reading through an email. They’d never guess you’re looking at photos of me with my face between your legs. Of your clit pressed against my tongue.”

“Oh God,” I said, his words mirroring exactly what I imagined doing. Max’s eyes moved over my face, down my neck and lower. My breasts tingled, my nipples hardening with the weight of his gaze on me. My skin felt too hot, the rest of my clothes constricting.

“Would that get you wet, Petal?”

I nodded, stripping Max of his shirt first, and then his pants, finding the head of his cock visible just above the waistband of his boxers. He was so hard, the tip already wet in the setting sunlight. I licked my lips, almost able to feel the weight of him in my mouth, hard and smooth against my tongue.

“Take the rest off,” Max instructed, before he reached for the bedding, pulling it down the mattress to reveal crisp, white sheets. The pile of carefully stacked pillows fell to the side and he reached for one, setting it in the middle of the bed.

I slipped out of my skirt and panties just in time for him to turn back to me and nod his approval. “Right here,” he said then, motioning to the pillow. “Want that pretty little cunt up where I can get to it.”

Even now, after the club and marriage and a baby and all we’d done together, I felt my cheeks heat as I did what he asked and climbed on the bed, careful to keep the pillow directly under my hips. It propped me up and I felt open and exposed, my thighs spread and the air cool against my skin. I knew that if I touched myself I’d be slick and swollen, my clit sensitive to even the smallest touch.

I kept my eyes trained on him as he stepped out of his boxers and climbed up on the bed, on his slow advance toward me. I reached out for him, wanting to feel him inside me and—

His phone vibrated on the table. Fuck.

I reached for it blindly, unable to look away from him and his perfect cock, the way it jutted out between us. I knocked over the alarm clock and what I assumed to be the room service menu, before I finally found what I was looking for, and held it out to him.