She looks up at me, pupils dilated. I need to get out of here. “It’s already ten o’clock,” she says. “Our first session tomorrow is at eight a.m.”
“Cool,” I say, already halfway out the door. “See you then.”
I’m almost to Bourbon Street when I realize I left my wallet in the hotel room. I almost scream. I wonder how strict Bourbon Street bars are about ID’ing. Maybe if there was a woman checking IDs…
Not worth the risk. I may as well turn around now.
Ten minutes later, I’m walking back into the lobby. I wink at Stacy as I pass the front desk, her dark eyes following me all the way to the elevator. When the elevator doors shut, I fiddle with my phone, killing time and anxiety by finding a low-key bar to grab a beer at. An Abita on tap sounds nice. There is a bar that the GPS says is a sixteen minute walk away, which means eleven minutes in New York pace. The elevator doors open, and I power walk to the room, pulling my key card out of my pocket and unlocking the door.
And then, I think I go into cardiac arrest. In fact, my hand flies to my neck to check for an arrhythmia. Because, for the split second it takes before Mia scrambles to the bathroom, shrieking and slamming the door shut, it’s as if I pull back the curtains to my own personal porn set.
My brain scrambles for less than half of that split second. Vaguely, as separate entities, I notehair,tits,waist,pussy. Thankfully, my brain decides to get its shit together before the split second is over, and I can combine all those rogue thoughts together and fully take in what I’m looking at as one jaw-dropping, gorgeous entity. And I know on a bone-deep level that this image will be burned into my retinas for the rest of my life.
Mia had been facing the door. Her phone was propped up on its Pop Socket in front of her. Her mouth was slack, half open, lips red and swollen, as if she’d been biting at them. Her long blonde hair was teased, messy, and casually flipped over to one side. Her shoulders were pulled back, one hand resting on the bed behind her, her tits pushed out, small, rosy nipples tight and hard. The curves of her waist dipped in before flaring out at her hips, the smooth expanse of her flat stomach pulled tight between them. She was kneeling, kind of, at least her knees were bent, but her ass was resting on her feet. Her knees were spread wide, and because she was leaning back on one hand, I was greeted by a full view of the fat lips of her pink pussy. It was bare, letting me see exactly how wet she was. And she was very, very wet.
This is the sight that greeted me in the split second before Mia screamed and ran into the bathroom.
I look at the empty bed for a moment, unable to breathe or move. In a daze, I realize she left her phone. I don’t go straight to her recent photos. Instead, I read back through her and Adam’s text thread.
What are your nipples like? What should I imagine when I’m touching myself, thinking of sucking them? Are they pink, like the flush on your neck?
Mia’s next text to him was still in draft, a photo that has not been sent yet. I open the photo, because I’m sick, and I’m greeted with the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen, although somewhat paling in comparison to the real thing. My mouth waters.Should I send this to myself?the evil half of my brain thinks for a second. In an epic show of restraint, I don’t, thank you very much. But then I get… angry.
I delete the photo from the message thread. I go into her recent photos, and delete all the ones taken in the twenty or so minutes I’ve been gone from this room. I throw her phone back on the bed and walk towards the bathroom.
I don’t recognize my voice when I speak to her through the door. “This isn’t taking it slow, Mia. This isn’t building tension. Don’t you dare show him that pussy yet—”because now that I’ve seen it, it belongs to me, I don’t add. I take a deep breath. “I’m going down to the hotel bar for ten minutes to let you collect yourself. Then we’re going to bed.”
I don’t know what I mean by that, but I walk out of the room, anyway.
TEN
Mia
I spendthe next minute in the bathroom thinking about how much debt I have on my credit card and how much money I have left in my checking account, because I’m willing to spend an exorbitant amount of money to get myself a new hotel room. I leave the bathroom a full two minutes after I hear the door to the room slam shut, my heart still racing like I’ve done a dead sprint across the entirety of New Orleans.
The first thing I do is get dressed. I get so dressed. The most dressed. Even if it’s extremely warm, I pull on a random pair of panties, a long-sleeved shirt, and sweatpants. The next thing I do is check my bank account.Yikes. But worth it, probably. I use the hotel phone to call down to the main desk.
“Hi,” I say, when Stacy with the eyelashes picks up.
“How can I help you?” she says in a tone that implies she’d rather get hit by a bus.
“I just wanted to know how much it would cost to book another room,” I ask her desperately.
“Sorry. We’re all booked out for that conference going on this weekend.”
Fuck. “Oh, okay. Do you know if that’s the case for the surrounding hotels, too?”
I can almost hear her rolling her eyes. “I don’t know, ma’am, I don’t work at other hotels. But I’d assume so.”
“Okay. Thanks for your help,” I tell her, but she’s already hung up the phone.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck. I feel crazy. My head is telling me to be really fucking embarrassed, obviously, but my body is still a live wire. The look on Elias’s face was… dangerous. Ravenous. Like he wanted to eat me. Another face to add to the Elias list.
I look up at the mirror across from the bed, next to the door. My cheeks and mouth are flushed, my nipples poking through the thin material of my long-sleeved shirt. What am I supposed to do?—
My cell phone dings next to me. Adam has long since taken a backseat; I’d forgotten about him as soon as Elias barged through the door. I check my phone.
Are you ready
