CHAPTER TWO
Jennings
She’s lying, this girl. I’m not sure what she’s lying about—her name for starters, who knows what else. Not that it matters. I don’t really give a toss, do I? She’s a distraction, nothing more, a very welcome and unexpected distraction before the beginning of a dull but hopefully informative week.
A sure thing, she said. I stifle a chuckle as I hit the lift call button and add that to her list of lies. I sent her the drink after I caught her looking at me in the bar but I didn’t expect it to lead anywhere. I expected, based on her shy smiles, that she was interested enough to allow me to sit with her. Pass an hour or two in conversation before she demurely excused herself with talk of an early morning. When she sucked in a breath and made the comment about moving to a quieter location, she surprised me. When I tilted my head in question and she blurted out, “I’m a sure thing”—well, fuck me.
“Rose,” I say as the lift doors open. There’s no response, her head buried in her phone as she attempts to discreetly tap out a text. If I had to guess I’d say she’s sending a safety check to a friend. Ensuring her phone GPS is on. She likely snapped a photo of me when I wasn’t paying attention and sent that too.
She’s cute.
“Rose,” I repeat while laying a hand on her arm. She looks momentarily confused, a flash so brief I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t been looking for it. She’s definitely not called Rose.
She smiles and precedes me into the lift as I wonder what brought her here, to this hotel and to this moment. Boredom? A bad breakup? Trying to prove to herself that she’s desirable?
I’m happy to help with that.
But I can’t call her Rose. When she remembers this night it shouldn’t be with another woman’s name on my lips. And she will remember this night.
The lift doors close and I turn to her. She’s wearing a short-sleeve shirt, her breasts forming an exquisite curve under the material. I run the tip of my finger down her bare arm and watch her nipples harden as her eyes move to mine, then to the lift control panel and back again.
“Are you suggesting we have sex in this elevator? Because if you’re fast enough to come before those doors open again, I’m not actually interested.” Her brow creases and her face is a mixture of regret and arousal. This time I do laugh as I reach past her and hit the button for three.
“No, love. I wasn’t suggesting a romp in the lift,” I assure her and move closer without touching her. Her pupils widen and her chest rises as she sucks in a breath and tilts her head back to meet my gaze. She’s wearing a knee-length skirt and heeled sandals on her feet. The skirt flows and would easily accommodate the spread of her legs if I were to boost her off her feet and wrap them around my hips. It’s a tempting thought, and she’s slight enough that she’d be easy to pick up and fuck against a wall. But no, that’s not in my plans for her tonight. I can definitely spare her more than a few minutes of my time.
The floor beneath us jolts the slightest bit, signaling the lift doors are about to open. I keep my eyes on hers as the doors slide and then lean past her to place a hand against the open lift door, blocking it from closing. “After you,” I tell her, my voice low. She pivots and exits, stopping as her eyes rest on the opposite wall where an arrow points in one direction for rooms three hundred to three-nineteen and another for rooms three-twenty to three-forty. She pauses and I wonder if this just became too real for her. I wonder if she’ll back out.
I take her hand and lead her to the right. She follows, her hand soft in mine, her heeled footsteps near silent on the hotel carpet. I wave the keycard to my room in front of the electronic lock and push the door open when the light flashes green, stretching my arm out and holding it open for her. She drops my hand and walks into the room and I note how lovely her hair is. Long tumbling waves of rich chestnut brown or possibly black resting against her back. It will look even better on my pillow.
She stops a few feet into the room and looks back at me over her shoulder as the door snaps shut behind me. Seeing her here in my room, I feel a moment of regret. Because while I know nothing about her, I know she deserves more than this hotel. Not that there’s anything wrong with it. It’s perfectly nice, in a business-class, family vacation sort of way. But I’d prefer if I had her in a five-star with a view of the capital, the lights of the city casting a soft glow through the room. A marble bathroom with a shower big enough for two. But we’re here, so the view of a fast-food chain across the street will have to do.
All she has with her is a small bag that can’t fit much more than a mobile phone and currency. I watch her set it down on the sideboard across from the bed then turn to me, a tiny lift of her chin as she likely reminds herself why she’s here, a mental pep talk flashing across her face. Then she wets her lips and smiles, but it’s for her, not me.
She has absolutely no idea how to proceed, does she? I’ve bedded virgins more aggressive than this woman.
“So how do you want to do this?” I ask her as I close the distance between us, my hands in my pockets and my steps unhurried. I stop before her and when she doesn’t move I untuck my hands and trail one finger along the shell of her ear. She bites her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Naked,” she replies earnestly, flicking her eyes from mine to my chest. “I’d like to do it naked.”
I’m definitely keeping her all night.
“Take these off,” I tell her, with a gentle tap of a finger to an earring. She removes them from both ears and places them next to her tiny bag, then looks back to me expectantly.
“How do you want to fuck?” I ask and pick up her hand. I kiss the inside of her wrist and meet her eyes. “Soft or hard? Fast or slow? Dirty or dirty?”
“Um…” She blinks, her skin flushed. “Yes.”
I’m not sure she’s even processed what I’ve asked, but I’m certain I had the answer before the door closed anyhow. And I wasn’t asking for any particular reason other than to watch her response. She’s not aggressive, this girl, she’d love it if I took the reins, so to speak. Removed whatever doubts she has in her mind about her desirability by leaving no question of my interest. And I’m interested. Interested in fucking her in every position possible until she passes out, exhausted and sated. I drop her wrist and rub my bottom lip with my thumb while I enjoy that visual for a moment.
“Your blouse,” I say, my tone brooking no argument, not that I’m expecting one. “Take it off.”
“Okay. And you take off your pants,” she responds in complete sincerity, her tongue peeking out between her lips. Her fingers have already moved to one of the buttons fastening her blouse as her gaze drops to my cock.
I swell in response. Hell, I was hard for her before I knew she was game. Her blouse hits the floor as I unbuckle my belt and unsnap my jeans before moving to my shirt and unbuttoning from the bottom up. Her hands pause for the briefest of moments before she reaches behind her and unzips what must have been a hidden zipper on her skirt. It pools around her feet and she steps out of the circle of fabric, leaving her sandals behind, then looks down with a tiny grimace before scooping her clothing off the floor and placing it quickly next to her earrings and bag.
She squares her shoulders as she turns back to face me, naked save for a pretty bra and pants set. Cotton, I’d guess, with delicate lace trim. Sweet. She’s sweet. And I wonder again what brought her to me tonight. I wonder if someone’s hurt her, but the idea of someone cheating on her seems ludicrous, as does me having that thought when I’ve known her only an hour. Actually, not even that. I don’t know her at all. I’ve not even kissed her yet. Why does she want this? Why now?
I drop my shirt to the floor and leave it there. My trousers follow suit and she glances at the pile of clothing for a brief moment, her fingers twitching. I think she’s contemplating picking my clothing off the floor like she did her own but she refrains with a slight shake of her head, then turns her attention to my bare chest with a smile. A feisty little grin that she must feel isn’t very sophisticated because she immediately tries to hide it.
“So,” she says with a small shrug as she places her palm on my chest, her fingers spreading outwards in exploration. The slight inhale of breath and bubbly grin tell me she’s happy with her choice for a one-off, gaining confidence in the moment. She presses her lips together to hide the smile then asks, “Now what?” Her head tilts towards the side as she asks, the hint of her pink tongue pressing between her lips. I can find a better use for that, most certainly.
That’s it. I’m not waiting any longer. I wrap my fingers behind her neck and yank her to me as I cover her lips with my own. Her lips are soft and warm and she tastes faintly like the cherry she sucked off my fingers earlier and smells of vanilla or possibly coconut. I think it’s her hair. And then she moans, the most delightful microscopic moan of excitement or approval. I like it, whatever it is. I dig my fingers into her hair as I maneuver her to deepen the kiss and it’s every bit as silky as I’d imagined. Thick, silky strands that feel seductive under my fingers. Strands I could hold like a leash while I fuck her from behind or while she kneels before me with my cock in her mouth.
I lift her off her feet, her legs wrapping around my waist as I walk her towards the bed, unsnapping her bra as I go. Her arms are crossed behind my neck, her fingers working their way into the hair at my nape as she breaks away from my mouth, moving her lips to my jaw and grinding her pelvis against me with a subtle lift of her hips. I set her on the edge of the bed and slide the straps of her bra down her arms till it’s dangling from my fingertips, then toss it aside. Her right shoulder hitches a fraction but her eyes don’t follow the bra so I don’t think she’s contemplating picking it up off the floor. Instead her eyes rest on my chest and she quickly bites her bottom lip before releasing it again. What is she thinking and why do I care? She’s hot and she wants me, end of.
“I didn’t expect you, Rose, but I’m glad you’re here. On my bed. Ready for me.”
She looks uncertain for a moment, as if she’s second-guessing her decision, and I wonder how experienced she is. If I should be worried about her being underage. It’s doubtful but worth asking. I’ve always subscribed to the ‘ask, don’t guess’ policy when it comes to women.
“How old are you, love?” I question and her eyes snap up from my chest to meet mine.
“Twenty-six,” she answers immediately, and she no longer looks uncertain, she looks irked. “How old are you?”
“I’m thirty-six.” I smile. I like her. I can’t imagine she gives a toss what my age is. I think she only spat the question out as some form of retaliation for asking hers.
“Thirty-six?” Her brows rise and she gives me a quick once-over before shrugging and working to clear her face of surprise. “Right, okay. I guess that’s fine.”
I raise a brow at her. Is this girl I’m never going to see again really giving me shit about my age?
She runs her eyes across my chest again and then tilts her head to the side with a, “Huh,” said to herself. Then she twists her lips before meeting my eyes again with a, “Yeah, okay.” I can’t recall ever knowing a woman so transparent with her thoughts. I find myself smiling again, amused with her.
I roll her nipple between my fingers and she inhales. Her reactions are stunning. Time to get this liaison back on track. I kneel on the floor in front of her, hook my thumbs into the sides of her knickers and pull until she lifts her hips enough for me to slide the material over her bottom and to the floor. Her toenails are painted hot pink and I slide my hands along the arches of her feet as I go about admiring how lovely she is. The soft arch of her hips, the shape of her calves, delicate ankles and a tiny birthmark on the top of her left foot.
I slide her knees apart and move between them, her thighs spread wide. Her breath catches as I grasp a nipple with my teeth and lightly pull. Her tits are as perfect as every other part of her, but they’re not my focus right now. I want to taste her—no, I need to taste her. I need the memory of her taste on my tongue when I think of this night or I’ll always wonder what I missed.
I push her back onto the bed and work my way down her stomach, my destination clear. Her legs flutter against my shoulders as if she’s tensed, but then they relax and fall further open as one of those delightful half-sighs, half-moans I’ve already come to associate with her emits from her lips.
I spread her apart with my thumbs and now I’m thankful for the light, neon or otherwise, peeking into the room from the street. Lovely. She’s so fucking lovely. She’s completely smooth and I want to cover every inch of her with my mouth, my tongue. She’s already wet and I’ve barely touched her, her arousal glistening at me like a dirty gift.
I place my tongue on her and run it slowly from top to bottom. By the time I pull her clit between my lips her hands are in my hair. Within another minute she’s got one foot flat on the bed for leverage while the heel of her other foot is pressing into my back.
Her enthusiasm is irresistible, her scent intoxicating. She really is a gift I wasn’t expecting tonight.
I slip a finger into her and she moans something about Jesus. That won’t do.
“Jennings,” I remind her. Her eyes are glazed and it takes her a moment to focus on the fact that my tongue is being used for talking instead of where she wants it.
“Right.” She blinks. “Right, I didn’t forget. I can call you Jennings, sure.”
She’s an odd little duck. A cute vixen with a dash of sexy and I want more. God, I want her. I keep my eyes on her as I slip my finger back into her wet heat. I love the feel of the inside of a woman—the warmth and texture, the slickness of her lubrication. I miss the feel of a woman bare against my cock with nothing between us. Fuck, it’s been forever since I’ve felt that. Not that I’ll be feeling it tonight either. I’m not an idiot.
But when I suck her clit between my lips again while pressing two fingers on that tiny bundle of nerves inside of her and she screams my name, I sort of wish I was.