A daily serving of pineapple did the trick, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. “Good. I have no objections to you feasting on me as often as you want.”
Releasing his cock, he rolled on a condom. “I’m going to fuck you now, if that’s okay?”
His manners always made me smile. “I’d like that.” He didn’t tell me to move, so I didn’t.
Grabbing my hips, he positioned himself at my entrance and drove home. Still sensitive, I let out a cry. My sounds only encouraged him to go harder and faster. The plush material of his suit slid against my bare skin, adding sensuality to the experience.
The sounds of flesh slapping, the smell of his cologne mixing with my perfume, the feel of him driving deeper, it was all art. Beautiful. Freeing. But far too fleeting.
Rishi had the sexual stamina of a teenage virgin, and it didn’t take long for him to find his release. Pulling out of me, he got rid of the condom as I collected the shreds of my dress and tossed them into the trash.
When Rishi rejoined me, he had his phone in hand and a disappointed look on his face. “Something came up with a friend, and I need to make a call. Do you have many friends, Selina?”
I didn’t like answering personal questions, and that one cut straight to the heart. The one person in the world I considered a true friend was dead. I had nobody in the world I could trust anymore. “Sure,” I lied.
Brushing my cheek with a knuckle, he gave me a sad smile. “Personal connections are important. They make life a little less lonely. Unfortunately, they also require maintenance.” He shook his phone with a frown. “I shouldn’t be more than an hour or so, but I took the liberty of booking you a massage downstairs to keep you busy.”
I didn’t need constant entertainment any more than I needed personal connections, but there was no use arguing. Rishi liked to spoil me, and I never spurned his kindness. “That was very thoughtful of you.”
“It’s my pleasure.” Looking over my nakedness, he added, “I trust you brought something else to wear?”
“Of course.”
By the time I’d donned a plain blue sheath dress and stepped back into my shoes, Rishi had his phone attached to his ear and was deep into a conversation in his native tongue. I needed to get a room key from him, but figured it could wait until I returned. Grabbing my purse, I blew him a kiss. He smiled. I stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind me.
My masseuse’s hands could bend steel and reshape rock. She diligently worked the kinks of stress out of my neck and shoulders, turning me into a pile of goo before leaving me alone so I could dress. Slithering off the table, I somehow managed to pull my clothes on and slip into my shoes. The bottle of water she’d left by the door barely revived me enough to get me back upstairs.
As I rounded the corner that led to Rishi’s suite, I saw a man stepping away from his door and heading the opposite direction of the elevator I’d come from. Wearing work boots, jeans, a T-shirt, and a baseball cap, he looked like some sort of maintenance worker. Hoping nothing was wrong with Rishi’s suite, I hurried my steps and knocked out my code.
No answer.
Strange, considering the maintenance man had clearly just left.
Wondering if Rishi was still on his call, I put my ear to the door, but couldn’t hear anything.
Maybe he stepped out when the maintenance man arrived?
Possible, but since Rishi had set up my massage, he knew exactly how long it would last. Courteous to a fault, he would have messaged me. He’d never leave me waiting in the hallway.
Maybe he thought he gave me a key?
Still, he would have contacted me if he needed to step out. Wondering if I’d somehow stopped in front of the wrong door, I verified the room number and knocked out my code again.
No answer, no sound, nothing.
Wondering what to do, I leaned against the door frame and pulled out my phone. I had no new emails, so I composed a quick message to Rishi, asking what he wanted me to do. As I waited for a response, something dripped in front of me. I looked up to see if I could find where it came from. In the two centimeters of pale wooden frame that extended out above the mahogany door was a sloppy red X, glistening like it was still wet. My gaze dropped to the carpet to see a few drops had landed, splattering my white pumps with something that looked a lot like blood.
Impossible.
I stared up at the X again, wondering what the hell was going on. My phone dinged with an incoming email. Praying it was an apologetic message from Rishi telling me there was some logical explanation for the weirdness happening above his door, I opened the app.
The email was from me, as in ‘Amelia Davis’ showed as the sender. Nobody who knew about this email account had access to my real name. The hair on the back of my neck stood up and goosebumps rose across my flesh. The message was yet another Bible verse.
“When I say unto the wicked, O wicked man, thou shalt surely die; if thou dost not speak to warn the wicked from his way, that wicked man shall die in his iniquity; but his blood will I require at thine hand.”
I stared up at the X, the possibly bloody X, and tried to write the email off as a coincidence. My racing heart didn’t buy it for a second. All the air rushed from my lungs and my legs lost their strength. Sliding down the wall, I landed on my ass with a thud.
Something very fucked-up was going on, and I needed to find out what.
