Glasses, another suit, hair parted at the side and a bunch of flowers. It was possible I could pass for Clark Kent. I’d slipped out of our hotel with a word in Nate Morris’ ear to cover for me. I wasn’t a big socialiser the night before a match, anyway, preferring to head to my room and read or code – there was always a problem that needed solving from whatever Lotte was working on, the reason why she’d tried to get me to give up football and go over to the States full time. So when I’d told a few of my teammates I was heading to my room, they weren’t surprised, thinking it was just part of my ritual.
I’d told Nate a bit more. He was our goalkeeper, and a single dad of two small children since his wife had died a couple of years before. Nate kept a quiet life too, training as much as he needed to, but avoiding the social scene.
When I said I was heading out to meet someone, Nate hadn’t asked any questions, just told me to call him if I needed picking up from anywhere, and then wished me a good night. I didn’t expect anyone to knock on my door to check I was there – I wasn’t Leo, the rookie goalie who was known for going missing – and tomorrow was a late start although there would be physio sessions, letting us be fully energised for the game.
The London Lodge Hotel was bigger than I’d expected. There wasn’t much in the way of lodge about it, being large and fairly upmarket, which was convenient because the staff would be keen to be helpful and discreet but would hopefully be too busy to have time for footballers. I had no idea whatLoisdid, but I hoped it paid well because I doubted that this place was going to be cheap to stay in.
She’d texted me her room number and told me to head straight up. It felt strange, being in a lift by myself, going to see her. A plan as opposed to a something happening by chance.
I knocked on her door, nerves that I hadn’t felt since I was about nineteen caught in my throat, the flowers held tightly in my hand. I hadn’t thought this through – how was she going to take the flowers home? Did she even like flowers? Was she allergic? Did she…
The door opened and Lois stood there, smiling. That was all she wore in fact, a smile.
I burst through the door, closing it with my foot, her laughter rippling through the room.
She was toned – that she worked out was obvious – with curves that told of time at the gym, or maybe with a trainer. Long legs that I knew tightened around my waist when she came, tits that bounced when she rode me, and a mouth that challenged me when it wasn’t doing wicked, wonderful things.
“You’re fucking gorgeous.”
She beamed, taking the flowers from my hand. “Thank you. I actually didn’t plan to answer the door like this. I was getting changed when you knocked.”
I laughed. “Likely story.” I was spellbound by her.
We’d spent nights in bed together, days in the hotel room in Houston, hours in the shower and bath, but never had I seen her like this, unabashedly unashamed of her body. Her confidence made her shine.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever have enough of having her light near me.
“And what if it hadn’t been me?”
She smiled, sitting on the bed and patting the spot next to her. “Then someone would’ve had a lucky day. Good thing that’s you. How long do I have you for, Clark?”
I took the seat, the warmth of her body seeping into mine. “All night.” Unless Nate called and summoned me back to the hotel.
“All night. Guess we’ll have to find something to do to amuse ourselves.” She swung round to straddle my lap, her arms over my shoulders, lips inches from mine.
My forehead pressed against hers, my hands on her hips, the rest of my body becoming fully aware of how bare she was, how fucking beautiful she was.
“I thought you’d given me a wrong number.” Because it was still there. That disappointment that she hadn’t wanted a planned repeat. I hadn’t realised how much I’d wanted her again until then.
She pulled her head back and moved her arms so her hands cupped my face. “I wouldn’t do that. I’m sorry if you were hurt. If I didn’t want to see you again, I’d have said.”
I nodded as her hand slipped onto my chest. “That was what I’d hoped. I figured it was you after the second message.”
She smiled. “I didn’t try that hard to hide it. Shall we start again? You can knock on the door, I’ll get some clothes on…”
I pulled her down onto the bed. “No, there’s no reason to put any clothes on.” I trailed my hand up her body, along her side and down to her waist, hips, the top of her thigh. Soft skin, impossibly soft, felt like something I’d hope for in heaven. The kiss I gave her wasn’t desperate, there was no lift this time, no torrid need to rush to an end. Because I didn’t think this night would be the last time we’d meet in a hotel.
She read me, or my mood, or maybe she felt the same, kissing me back with slow, steady tempo. Her own hands moved under my shirt, pulling it free from my trousers, undoing my belt. She moved me onto my back, straddling me pushing my shirt wide open and pressing open mouthed kisses to my chest.
My hands tangled in her hair, pulling it away from her face, winding it round my hand.
“I need to know your real name.” Because here I was, with a woman who I knew how to make come in several different ways, but I didn’t know what she was called. “Not your surname. That doesn’t matter.”
She sat up, her breasts pulling my gaze and I couldn’t help but lean forward and nuzzle one, take the nipple in my mouth and sucked, hearing her gasp.
“You’d never guess it.” She knelt up high, sliding my trousers down as I raised my hips, her hand then running over my hard cock. “I should make you guess, but I don’t think you would.”
My laugh was soft. “So tell me.”
