10
When we leave the restaurant, Eric takes my hand again possessively, and I let him. More and more, I like how he makes me feel, though I’m a bit rattled by his proposal.
A part of me wants to reject it, and another part wants to accept it. I like Eric. I like his kisses. I like his touch, and his games. We walk in search of shade in the Royal Palace gardens while we talk about a million things, but nothing very seriously.
“Would you like to come to my hotel?” he asks abruptly.
“Now?”
He looks at me hungrily.
“Yes, now,” he whispers in a raspy voice. “I’m staying at the Hotel Villa Magna.”
My stomach flips. After just a few seconds of looking back at him, I nod, sure that’s what I want. We go hand in hand back to the parking garage.
“Are you going to let me drive?”
He looks at me with his disconcerting eyes and brings his lips close to my ear.
“Have you been good?”
“Very, very good.”
“And are you going to sing again?”
“You can bet on it.”
I hear him laugh, but he doesn’t answer. When we get to the parking garage and pay the ticket, he hands me the keys.
“Your wish is my command, sweetness.”
Excited, I jump in the air like Rocky Balboa, which makes him laugh again. I get on tiptoe and kiss him on the lips. This time, I’m the one who takes his hand and pulls him along to find the Ferrari.
Eric gets into the car and puts on his seat belt.
I turn the ignition and snap on the radio. Immediately, Maroon 5 fills the car.
“Don’t even think about turning it down,” I say before he has a chance to touch the volume. I give him a stern look.
He rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling. As we leave the parking garage, with that amazing car in my hands I feel like an Amazon warrior. I know where the Hotel Villa Magna is, but I think I’m going to take a little ride around the M-30. Eric doesn’t say anything, just watches me and contends stoically with the radio and my singing. Half an hour later, when I’m finally satisfied, I slow down and ease off the M-30 to find my way to the Hotel Villa Magna.
“Happy now?”
“Very much,” I respond, still high from having driven such a car.
His hands caress me as they go up my legs and stop on my mons. He draws little circles, which makes me instantly wet.
“I hope that in the next half hour, you’ll be even happier,” he says.
That makes me laugh, while his hands play and squeeze my sex through my jeans. When we get to the door of the Hotel Villa Magna and get out of the car, he takes my hand again, grabs the keys, and gives them to the valet. He pulls me over to the elevator. The elevator operator doesn’t need to ask us anything: he knows perfectly well where to take us. As soon as we arrive at the top floor, the elevator doors open, and I see a sign, “Royal Suite.”
We enter, and I breathe in the luxury and glamour. Coffee-colored furniture, a Japanese garden . . . Then I realize there are two doors in that suite. I open them and discover two fantastic rooms with enormous beds.
“Why do you have a double suite?”
Eric comes close and leans on the wall.
“Because I play in one room and sleep in the other,” he whispers.
Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door. A middle-aged man comes in.
“Bring us strawberries, chocolate, and a good French champagne,” Eric says. “I’ll leave the selection to your discretion.”
The man nods and leaves. I’m still in something of a state of shock from all the exclusive delights here. We take a few steps from the door and then walk around the suite. I go directly to the terrace.
Eric is soon behind me. He takes me by the waist and squeezes me against him. He leans his head down, and I feel sweet kisses all over my neck. I close my eyes and surrender. His hands move under my T-shirt and take a firm hold of my breasts. He rubs them, and I start to hum. We’ve just come into the room, and I can tell he is ready to ravage me.
I’m getting wetter with every second.
“Are you carrying the vibrator in your bag?” he asks.
“No,” I respond.
He doesn’t say anything, but without my making a move, he begins to unbutton my jeans and pull down my zipper. He slips his hand into my panties to my wet slit. He puts a finger on my clit and begins to move, stimulating it.
“I said to always have it with you, remember?”
“Yes.”
“You have to follow my advice if you want to truly enjoy our time together.”
I nod, totally under his spell, as his finger stops and he slowly pulls it away. I want to ask him to go on. Instead, he brings the finger to my mouth.
“I want you to know what you taste like. I want you to understand why I’m dying to devour you again.”
Without another word, I lean over and take his finger in my mouth. My sex is salty.
“Today, Miss Flores,” he whispers again in my ear, “you’ll have to pay for not having brought the vibrator.”
“I’m sorry . . .”
“No, don’t be sorry, sweetness,” he whispers. “We’ll play another game. Do you dare?”
“Yes . . . ,” I sigh, more excited with every second.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes . . .”
“Without limits?”
“But no S and M.”
I can feel him grinning, when we hear a knock on the door. Eric pulls away from me. I turn around and see the waiter has brought our order on a beautiful glass-and-silver table. Eric uncorks the champagne, pours two glasses, and offers a toast.
“To how much fun we’re going to have, Miss Flores.”
I gaze at him. He gazes back.
I tap my glass against his and nod with as much confidence as I can.
“Cheers to that, Mr. Zimmerman.”