The elevator doors open, and with reluctance, he draws back from me so he can lead me down the hall.
“Your dress is a lot of dress,” he grumbles, his lips on my neck, his chest to my back while he attempts to get under it.
I can’t help it. I giggle. His struggle is real as he pulls and tugs and lifts and adjusts a million layers of fabric. Finally hishands locate my thighs and glide up until he reaches the globes of my ass.
“I knew it. You’re perfect.” He gives me a firm squeeze and a soft smack. “Shit, I’m so fucking hard for you. Your ass…”
He lets it end there as we reach a door, and he swipes a plastic room key against the keypad. There aren’t many rooms on this floor. Two other doors, but that’s it. The lever swishes down, and he holds the door open for me, allowing me to enter first. It’s a suite, of course, spacious and luxurious with every trimming and refinement you’d expect in a five-star hotel and fit for, well, royalty.
On the bar is a bottle of champagne on ice, two flutes, and an assortment of chocolate truffles, but that has nothing on the red rose petals scattered everywhere. I turn and arch a brow only to be treated to a shrug and the most outrageously boyish smile, complete with fucking dimples.
“It was supposed to be Sebastian and Bellamy’s honeymoon suite, only they decided to stay at our family’s chalet up the road, so I took it over. For security, we told no one.”
“Oh.”
He chuckles and goes for the bottle of champagne, removing the foil and cork with a loud pop. I take the glass and drink half of it down, nerves striking me in a very innocent, virginal way.
He takes a sip of his drink, his eyes all over me, adding to those nerves to the point where I can hardly stand it. I head toward the bedroom, finishing off my drink as I go. I hear ice shift around against metal, then suddenly he’s behind me.
“Another?”
I shouldn’t. I’m already rocking a fierce buzz or am perhaps drunk. But I think I need it all the same. I nod, and he refills my glass, the head of white fizzy bubbles effervescing, blanketing out the rush of blood in my ears against the otherwise quiet of the room. I force two more gulps down, ignoring how theytickle and burn my nose, before I set it on a nearby table and turn to face him.
I don’t want him to see my back. I don’t want him to touch it.
Reaching behind, I work the zipper down, and he stands before me, his eyes hooded. His thumb glides along his bottom lip, the tip of his tongue following the motion, and it’s so fucking sexy, I push aside my nerves and let the dress fall to my waist.
He sucks in a rush of air as his gaze drops to my bare chest, and when he fully takes me in, he curses under his breath in Russian, of all things.
Firm hands cup my breasts, lifting them to test their weight and thrusting them together. His thumbs brush over my nipples, and my head falls back of its own volition because holy fuck. How can his touch feel infinitely better than when I do it myself?
His lips meet the soft skin of my neck, his breath hot and heavy against me as he toys with my tits, squeezing and pinching my nipples. His lips are all over me, kissing and licking my neck and shoulder and up to my jaw. I move my fake hair over one shoulder and work the dress lower. The bottom half is another matter, clasped around my waist with a hook and another zipper. Before I can do it, his fingers catch the hook. I freeze, hoping he doesn’t venture north. Thankfully, he doesn’t, and I breathe out a sigh of relief.
He removes my dress, helping me step out of it until I’m in nothing but a thong and heels. Pretty underwear. Pretty shoes. Pretty diamonds in my ears. None of them are mine to keep.
His lips trail down my chest, sucking and licking at my tits as he moves lower and lower until he’s kneeling before me. A prince on his knees for me, and I shake my head, utterly at a loss. I should tell him this is my first time, but I don’t. I can’t force the words out, and I don’t want to have the conversationthat will inevitably come with it. He gazes up at me, giving me a wickedly sinister grin as he tugs on my nipples and kisses my mound over my thong. His hot breath tickles the wetness pooling and makes my clit throb.
Holy fuck! I nearly collapse. As it is, I make an embarrassingly loud moan.
“So beautiful,” he rasps against me. “You’re so fucking beautiful. And you smell”—he takes a deep inhale of me over my thong, and my eyes roll back in my head—“so fucking good.”
I comb back the thick strands of his hair and stare down at him, shaky and bewildered by all of this. Men have called me beautiful. I have a pretty face and good-sized tits. I’ve never been insecure about that. Honestly, I’ve never given my body much thought until now, but I’m far from perfect. Scarred back and muscular thighs and arms. But his saying how he thinks I’m beautiful when I’m standing in front of him like this hits me differently than any man who’s said it to me before.
Probably because I’ve never been nude in front of anyone.
One by one, he removes my shoes, followed by my thong, and here I am completely naked while he’s still fully dressed. He’s aware of this contrast and anxious to remedy it because while he playfully kisses and licks at my pussy, he’s shucking off his formal jacket and works the buttons of his shirt.
My gentle fingers in his hair turn into a vise grip when his tongue flicks my clit. I stumble backward, my knees practically giving out on me, even as he cups my ass and holds me to his face.
He chuckles against me, the vibration insane on my pussy. “You still with me?”
I laugh. “I won’t be in a minute if you keep doing that to me while I’m standing.”
“Come here, gorgeous.” He takes my hips, picks me up, and sets me down on the bed. I crawl back and prop myself up on my elbows. “Better. Damn, so much fucking better. Shit.” Herakes me in as he finishes getting his shirt off. I return the favor, memorizing the cut lines of his chest, shoulders, and abs. “Spread your legs. I want to see you.”
A flash of girlish insecurity runs through me, but it burns off into nothing with the heat of desire in his eyes. I slide my legs along the silky duvet, shuddering as the fabric runs along my skin.
I spread my legs for him and gasp when I feel his hands on my inner thighs, holding me there.
