“He was a first lieutenant. I drove his Humvee.”
“I bet you have some stories.”
“I sure do, Miss Davenport.” He flashed a white smile in the rear-view mirror.
“What’s your best story, Mr. Adams?”
“Mr. Baxter gave me explicit orders not to divulge any of those stories to you, Miss Davenport.”
I relaxed in the back seat and let my mind drift.
Dirk Baxter had awakened a desire in me that night at the Cherry Pit. One which had been like a dull ache since then. Meeting him as a patient, while I knew I should put that encounter out of my mind as I treated him, had only thrown more gasoline on that fire. I crossed my legs and the feel of my panties on my soft folds and the images that played through my mind stoked those flames.
It was probably best I didn’t see him professionally again. At least, it would be more ethical.
I imagined Trace was taking me to a luxurious hotel or condo, where I would ride up an elevator to the penthouse apartment. We would exit and I would find a trail of rose petals leading from the elevator door through a lavish living room down a dark hallway. I would hear running water up ahead from a door. Light from the room would spill out into the hallway and the rose petals would lead right to the door.
In my lovely dream, I would walk to the entrance, stopping there and lean against the frame. Striking a sexy pose, Dirk would be there sitting on the edge of an enormous bathtub, a single rose in hand, and running his hand through the bubble bath that he was preparing. He was only wearing some black silk pajama bottoms. His well-muscled chest and abs shone like an Adonis in the bathroom's steam.
“Is that for me?” I ask.
“Yes, I got you a dozen. All but this one became the trail of roses which brought you to me.” I noticed a crystal vase with plucked roses sitting on the bathroom counter.
“I was referring to the bath, Mr. Baxter,” I said with a seductive smile. Even in my dream, I just wanted a bath.
“Yes. That is for you, too.” He stood and approached me. After giving me the rose, he pulled me into a kiss. Our lips crushed against each other, the passion in me burning brightly. I nearly swooned. His dream kiss seemed just as hot as the one in the Cherry Pit.
Dirk led me to the tub and slowly undressed me. He unzipped my red dress slowly until his hand reached the small of my back. As my dress fell to the floor, he undid my bra and cupped my breasts in his hands and kissed my neck from behind. The pleasure rippled through me with those tingly sensations one feels when your favorite song plays on the radio. The one that reminds you of the first time you ever made love.
He stepped around me and knelt before me on the floor. He slid my panties down over my hips, down my legs, before helping me step out of them. I only had on a black garter and black hose and red, five-inch-heeled Louboutins. His lips played along the flesh of my stomach, my thighs, as his hands squeezed my ass cheeks. His tongue danced across the flesh at the apex of my thighs. I couldn’t help but gasp as his tongue ran up the full length of my slit.
My moans and the running water created a cacophony of sensual sounds. Suddenly, the room was dark except for the soft glow of a dozen candles. Their scent—lavender and hibiscus, mixed with the smell of the roses—had me in a state of sensual bliss.
When his tongue ran along my clit, I gasped again, louder this time. My hands went to the back of his head and I pulled him into me. I pressed him hard against me as his tongue lashed out, penetrating me and pleasuring my pussy.
“I’m so close. Don’t stop,” I whispered in my dream.
Suddenly, Dirk was standing in front of me, naked, his cock pressing against my belly. It was hard and ready. He looked eager to take me, almost animalistic. I was ready for him to take me.
The bath, though, was beckoning me. It looked so warm. So inviting. The bubbles looked so soft and magical.
“Why did you stop?” I asked softly.
“We’re here,” Dirk said.
“Where?” I asked. My eyes were closed as I reveled in the pleasure. I could feel his fingers running up my slit, pressing against my clit. “Don’t stop,” I begged.
“We’re here, Miss Davenport,” Trace said, waking me from my dream.
I felt wet between my legs. I could still smell roses and lavender.Where was I?I opened my eyes and realized I was still in the back seat of the Navigator.
Trace had the back door open, but he was looking straight ahead, not at me. I sat up, embarrassed, and slid out of the car. I looked up and saw that we were at the entrance to a hotel.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“At the Huntley Hotel, Miss Davenport. You’ll be headed up to the Penthouse.”
Holy shit!Was that a dream or a premonition? I’d never had a premonition before, not even adéjà vumoment. I’d assumed it was a dream.
