The Citizen Hotel

Sacramento, California

 

Finley woke with a scream on her lips, unsure of where she was or why her wrist was cuffed to a piece of furniture. She felt a menace in the darkness, and she knew she had to get away. She jerked at the restraint, pulling hard enough that she could feel it deep in her bones. Pain rushed through her, but it was nothing like the pain she knew she would suffer if she didn’t get away.

He was coming.

She jerked harder on the cuff, pain causing her to cry out almost as much as the frustration of being restrained. Panic was building in her chest. She could almost feel him breathing down her neck, feel the blows that would soon land on her shoulders and back. The rib he’d broken the last time began to ache, burning along her side. She needed to get free. She didn’t understand why she couldn’t get away, why her gun wasn’t in the bedside table—where the bedside table was, for that matter!—and why her room wasn’t filled with moonlight like it should have been.

She heard him then, footsteps on the carpet. He was coming!

She pulled harder, felt the metal of the cuff cutting into her skin. She had to get free, just had to be free before he reached her.

Hands on her shoulders, pushing her back, hands on her face. She turned her head, trying to get away, moans wrapped up in sobs slipping from her lips. She had to get away. She couldn’t let him hurt her again!

She pulled harder and harder, had to get away, even as hands touched her, a soft male voice trying to soothe her. He said her name over and over again, but she couldn’t—

Her hand was suddenly free. She pulled back, crawling back against the couch where she was sitting—why was she on a couch?—tears pouring down her face as she tried to ward him off. He reached for her again, his hands sliding over her legs, along her arms. It took her a second to realize he wasn’t hurting her. He was touching her kindly, with a generosity that she wasn’t affording him. She slapped at him, heard the sting before she felt it on her palms. She didn’t want to be touched, didn’t want him near her!

But then the voice broke through the panic wrapped around her thoughts, hands once again tugging at her wrists.

“Finley, it’s me. It’s Zeke.”

The sound of his name was what finally began to bring her out of it. Zeke. He wasn’t the one she was afraid of, not the one who’d broken her rib. He wasn’t the one who’d chased her through the house, his fists flying in anger and outrage even though she was the one who should have been outraged.

“Zeke?”

And then it began to come back to her, the hospital and the SUV and the hotel room. Her eyes adjusted to the dark, and she remembered where she was, began to recognize the shapes in the darkness. And Zeke, his handsome face lost in shadows, but those incredible eyes visible in the vague moonlight coming through the window, filled with concern.

“You’re having a nightmare.”

She nodded, her whole body shaking. He touched her leg, and it was the most generous touch she’d felt in a long time. Comforting. When her parents died, everyone wanted to hug her and tell her how sorry they were, even though all she wanted was to be left alone. Her aunt understood that. Aunt Lydia didn’t touch her for the whole first month she was living with her, giving her the distance and the respect no one else seemed to understand that she desperately craved. And when she finally did ask for that first embrace from Aunt Lydia, it was the best thing she’d ever felt.

This was the second best thing.

Her thoughts were back in order, her understanding of her situation as clear as a freshly cleaned window. But she needed more of that comfort than just the touch of a hand on her leg.

She scooted off the couch and into his arms, burying her face against his throat with a shiver. She didn’t think, for a moment, that he was going to welcome her into his embrace, but then his strong arms came around her, and he pulled her high up on his lap, cradling her against his body like she had every right to be there. He buried his own face against her shoulder, his breath hot as it blew through the material of the oversized shirt he’d bought her.

They sat that way for a long time, their bodies pressed hard together. She wasn’t sure which of them moved first. Him? Her? But his lips brushed against her bare throat, and his hands slipped down along her spine. Her fingers were buried in his hair, her hips pressed as tightly against him as they could possibly move, her legs wrapped all the way around him until her feet were resting on her thighs.

Finley knew he had to have guessed that she wasn’t wearing her panties or those boxers he’d bought for her. He had to have figured it out from the lack of elastic pressing against the thin material of the t-shirt. He certainly didn’t seem surprised when he slipped his hands underneath the shirt and found her bare ass, just waiting for his hands to explore it.

He bit her throat as his fingers began to explore her nether regions, fingertips going places no simple acquaintance would put his finger. She moved slightly, allowing him as much access as he desired. He grunted, the sound vibrating through her skin.

Finley turned her head, allowed her lips to run over the side of his neck. He smelled like sweat and the remnants of that morning’s cologne splash. His jaw was rough with a day’s growth of hair, the sensation of it rubbing against her skin such a contrast to the softness of the skin on his throat that it was erotic, a delicious variety in sensations. He was naked from the waist up, something she hadn’t really appreciated until this moment. Her hands began to explore his back, touching the hollow of his spine and the thrumming muscles living just below the surface. She explored with her mouth, too, running her moist lips over his shoulder and up his throat, then forward, taking a moment to enjoy the maleness of his Adam’s apple.

There was a need thrumming inside of him that she could feel, a need that was rising in crescendo with her need. She moved her hips again, letting him know that she hadn’t forgotten what his fingers were doing. She wanted to feel him, wanted to know all there was to know about him. And he clearly wanted the same because his fingers were straining, looking for the deep moistness that she hid between her legs.

She ran her hands down his chest, found a teeny nipple here and a teeny nipple there. She watched his face as she centered her hands and reached between their bodies, saw the excitement light up in his eyes. He wanted her to touch him, to stroke him. And that understanding made the ache inside of her almost painful with its desperation.

He wore boxers, the old fashioned kind like her father once wore. She didn’t have to work at the waistband because the little flap in the front was no barrier to the manhood that ached to be released. She slid one hand inside, freeing him as her other hand wrapped around his length, watching the pleasure explode on his face, watching as he threw his head back and cried out, her touch almost more than he could take.

God, she wanted to see more of that pleasure on his handsome features!

She stroked him for a long few moments, watching her hands move over him as her hips rocked slightly against his thighs. His hands were still on her hips, but they weren’t moving, their grip solid but not rough. When she moved forward, when she teased him with a visual invitation, it was all her. He groaned again, his hands squeezing her backside with a pressure that was almost bruising.

He wanted her, and that idea burned through her, a flash fire kindling things that had never felt this particular heat.

But something made him hesitate. He lifted her easily, tossing her onto the couch like she weighed no more than a few pounds. He buried his face against her belly, her t-shirt half covering the spot and half exposing it. Then his mouth moved lower down, his tongue brushing places that quivered with the idea of more. When he touched her there, in the center of her being, she cried out, her hands reaching to pull him tighter against her. He took hold of her wrists, restraining her, keeping her from controlling his actions. He wanted to do this on his own, wanted to show her pleasure in the way only he could do. That was fine with her. She lay back, her eyes closed, and let him do what he wanted to do.

And, goodness! He knew what he was doing!

So much pleasure rushed through her body. A pleasure that threatened to drive her out of her mind, then he’d back off, taste the result of her excitement, and then come back, driving her just a touch further before he backed off again, touching and tasting every inch of her. He pressed his lips to her inner thighs, to the space behind her knee, to her ankle bone, worshipping her body before returning to that button, to that spot that was driving her to a blackout orgasm. She’d never known a man who was so patient, so determined to show her pleasure. She wanted to relish it, to hold on to it as long as possible. But her body had other ideas.

His touch drove her over an edge, dropping her into a chasm of pleasure that she thought she’d never climb out of again. He held her as she dropped, his hands hard on her hips, his mouth close enough to that spot that his heated breath only added to the spasms that were rushing through her. Just as she began to come up the other side, he gathered her in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, laying her on one side of the massive king size bed. She moaned in protest as he walked away, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment.

“Zeke,” she moaned softly, her hands outstretched for him.

When he came back, he had a cold cloth in his hands. He wrapped it gently around her wrist, the one that had been cuffed to the desk leg. It burned, a pain she hadn’t realized was there soothed by the coolness of it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered softly.

She slid her arm around his neck and pulled him to her, their lips touching for the first time. She could taste herself on his tongue, but there was more than that. She could taste him, the deliciousness that was unique to this one man. She wanted that, wanted to explore him, wanted to know every inch of his talented tongue and beautiful mouth.

She reached to stroke him again, wanting to give back an iota of the pleasure he’d just given her. He pulled her hand away, pinning it gently against the mattress.

“We shouldn’t do this,” he said.

“Why not?”

He studied her face, his mouth working to say things he couldn’t make himself give voice to. She knew he had secrets, that his story was filled with complications and shame. But whose wasn’t?

“There were condoms in the toiletry kit you bought.”

“You saw that?”

“Yeah.” She leaned up and nibbled at his bottom lip. “Go get them.”

He still hesitated, his need wrestling with his sense of chivalry. She ran her hand along the side of his face, loving this gentleness inside of him, loving that he was so different from other men she’d known.

“I know what we’re doing here. I know what it might or might not mean. I know the consequences. I still want it, more than I’ve ever wanted anything. And I know you do, too.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage.”

“I know you’re not. If anything, I’m taking advantage of you.”

He snorted softly at that idea, but he untangled himself from her and disappeared back into the bathroom. She sat up and stripped the t-shirt off over her head, lying back down on her side, draping her hair intentionally over the pillows, hoping the effect was as seductive as she wanted it to be. She wished in that moment more than she had as a teen that her breasts were bigger, that her nipples were smaller, and that she had the kind of body men the world over seemed to desire. But it was what it was.

And he didn’t seem to mind.

His eyes moved slowly over her as he paused in the bathroom doorway, a look on his face that was almost like the one a child gets when staring at a much-wanted toy. He dropped the condoms on the side table and quickly stripped out of his boxers, giving her only a small glimpse of his powerful body before he slipped onto the bed beside her. He tugged her close, his lips finding hers again, their kiss filled with a new passion that hadn’t quite been there before. His hands moved over her body, exploring her in earnest now. When his fingers came inside of her, she cried out, surprised to feel that need come rushing back with a determination she’d never known before.

She was the one to reach for the condom, the one nervously ripping open the package, her fingers suddenly clumsy because of the rush her body demanded of them. She rolled the flimsy thing over him, but that was the last bit of control he allowed her. The moment they were safe, the moment it was time, he took over.

Zeke grabbed her wrists and pressed them over her head, locking her against the mattress as he forced her knees apart with his own knee. She opened for him, quite willing, spreading her thighs as wide as her joints would allow. When he leaned forward, she desperately wanted to guide him, but he had that under control, too. And then pleasure and pressure and all the things that went with that moment of intimacy overwhelmed her, sending her skittering down that path again toward that great chasm.

He was careful at first, aware of her in every movement, aware of the thin line between pleasure and pain. She couldn’t express how much she appreciated that because she knew full well how easily that line could be crossed. But there was something about Zeke that she trusted, something that told her he was incapable of the cruelties she’d known in her past. She adored him for that, too.

By the time his pleasure became such a demanding mistress that his movements became a little more reckless, a little rougher, she was right there with him, riding that wave toward the end. Everything about him felt perfect, including that rough fall.

He pulled her into his arms when it was done. The moment she caught her breath, she snuggled into him, stealing a few precious kisses from his lips. She hadn’t explored him enough, hadn’t gotten to know him well enough. And there were two more condoms waiting on the bedside table.

If this was her last night outside the hospital, she was going to make sure it was a damn good one!