“What if I can’t?” I rested my head back on his shoulder.
“I’ll make sure it happens.”
I laid my hands on his arms and stood there, worried and confused. At first I’d only thought about going home, but what if there was something wrong with me? Maybe I really was the Ice Prince everyone accused me of being, and I couldn’t even enjoy a getaway with a well-intentioned man.
“Is that a yes?”
“No guarantees,” I whispered.
We went back outside to get the rest of our things because neither one of us wanted to do it after we ate, and we left the bags near the door with the others. After quick stops into the first-floor bathroom, we sat down to eat, since our stomachs were both growling. He pulled out my chair for me even though my first impulse was to help him, so I sat and let him fuss over me, then held my breath when he went to his chair. There were no catastrophes, though. Once seated, he ran a finger over the silver topper. Carefully, he lifted it.
“You can set the topper to your left. There’s an open space.”
He did as I’d indicated and inhaled deeply. “What and where is everything?”
Brooks listened while I meticulously recounted each item on his plate and told him where he’d find his glass—and that it was a champagne flute. I poured alcohol that had been stowed in a bucket of ice—white wine, which should’ve only been lightly chilled and should’ve had regular wineglasses. Feeling brave, I filled my flute, too.
“Is it wise to, uh, be drinking with your medications?” I asked, squirming at the question as I returned the bottle to the bucket. Normally I would never comment on what someone else did, but the last thing I wanted to do was run off to grab Levi if something happened.
Brooks chuckled and ran a hand along his beard. “One glass won’t kill me.”
The food was excellent. Not one thing made me want to complain. He’d ordered chicken because of me, and it wasn’t dry or under-seasoned or any other thing except perfect. I almost wanted something to critique.
An inexplicable nervousness settled in on me. I was worried about messing things up, and I hadn’t realized that was something I was concerned about until I watched Brooks eating. His mouth was nice, his hands were strong, he was fucking hot with his growly nature and muscles. He couldn’t see, which led to some differences in how he maneuvered his food, but I didn’t care. If I was someone other thanMadam Winters’ son, I would have felt like the luckiest man in the world.
As it was, I worried.
One anxious thought led to another, and by the time both our plates were cleaned, I was silently angsting about the hotel again. I just didn’t know how to let it go.
Brooks excused himself to the bathroom to wash his hands after we’d finished our mostly quiet meal, and I made a beeline for a phone I spied through an archway hanging on the wall in the full-sized kitchen. “Cabin,” I grumbled to myself with an eye roll. “Cabin my ass.” I was relieved to hear a dial tone when I raised the phone to my ear. Quickly I tapped in the number for the hotel.
“Courtesan Hotel, where all your wishes come true” came a breathy voice. “Natalia Winters speaking. How might I help you?”
“You never work the desk.”
She laughed, and I bit the tip of my tongue to keep from saying something vile. After she caught her breath, she giggled again, and I waited. “Don’t tell me you’re bored already?”
“Is everything okay? Did the alcohol shipment ever come in?”
I was surprised when Brooks took the phone out of my hand. I hadn’t heard him approaching. Lemonade gave me a doggy smile from his side. He felt along the wall, then hung the handset back in place.
“I’m sorry.” I bit my lip and tried not to dive headfirst into my guilt.
“Go to the bedroom. Strip. Lie in the middle of the bed on your belly.”
Worried and more than a little upset, I went back into the main room and climbed the stairs near the door. A large bedroom was behind the first door I checked on the right. I barely saw anything except the bed as I walked forward. Once my clothes were off, I flopped directly onto the soft blankets and shoved my face against them. I was crawling with ants on the inside, worried I’d messed up the good time we were having, mad that I cared at all since I hadn’t been asked if I wanted to take a break, and instead had been forced. My head thudded with everything jumbled up in it.
Brooks came in and climbed onto the bed. I didn’t bother to move at all. He positioned himself on top of me with his knees on either side of my hips and massaged my back and shoulders until I felt myself drifting off again. I was so chronically fucking tired, but I never stopped during my day at the Courtesan.
The bed moved behind me, and I smiled against the blankets at a softsnickI thought might be a lube cap, and then he ran slick fingers between my asscheeks. He massaged around my rim the same way he had the rest of my body. I was feeling languid and ready to burst by the time he slipped a finger inside me and began a careful stretch—again like we had all the time in the world. We hadn’t been speaking up to this point, and I didn’t want to break whatever magic had settled over us by asking him to hurry.
When he was done opening me up, he climbed off the bed and shed his clothing. Cloth rustled and he hummed happily. When he was back, he covered my body with his. I lazily spread my legs wider and tilted my ass in the air. There was a noise I assumed was a condom wrapper, and then he slid his way home inside me with no trouble. I cried out in surprise at being filled so fast, even though it didn’t hurt. He covered my mouth with one hand and my eyes with the other as he slowly fucked into me until he bottomed out. The sensation of being owned and stretched to the breaking point—but not beyond—had me clawing at the blankets. I blinked against his palm and couldn’t see. His cock felt fucking massive, and I canted my hips back, silently asking for him to do anything except keep me in suspense.
“I’m taking care of you. I want all your thoughts, all your energy, focused on me.” I whimpered when he pulled back, then hammered home, hitting my prostate. His grip tightened over my mouth and he let loose like a storm, hammering me into the mattress. I struggled against him, had to breathe through my nose, and in what felt like no time at all, the tension swirling in my gut and drawing up my balls was too much. I spilled—the bed shaking under me as he fucked me through the strong pulses of my cock emptying my load. My heartbeat hammered in my throat, and I sobbed out a whine against his hand.
He growled and sat back, releasing me. I glanced over my shoulder and watched as he pulled free from my ass. I hated to have him out of me. He stripped off the condom, tossed it, and stroked himself fast. With a low moan, he tensed and came on my ass, painting warm stripes on my skin. My mouth went dry at the filthiness of seeing my skin get covered in spunk. He rubbed his cum in. Flashing a wolfy smile, he dropped to the bed at my side. I struggled to turn toward him, and he pressed a kiss to my shoulder. I could already feel myself clenching again. I groaned and dropped my head to the bed as he rubbed a hand down my back. He paused as if he could feel my muscles turning to rocks again, too.
“That’s okay. I have two weeks to fuck this tension out of you.” He almost sounded gleeful about that.
I would have laughed, but I wasn’t certain two weeks would do it. Or a lifetime. Maybe this was simply the way I was built, and no one could help me fix it. I leaned over and kissed him, though, because the thought was sweet. We lay there for a long while, me studying him while he danced his fingers along my spine.
And all I could do was worry, even though I really did like what we were doing together... and maybe Brooks as well.
