“Ah, sorry. In the bathroom. I’ll go get them.”
Peter stands up rapidly and disappears into the bathroom just around the corner. I take a seat, running my hands over the smooth fabric of his bedsheets. I can hear him rifling around and let out a victorious aha when he finally locates what he’s looking for. Peter hurries back, ripping open the condom wrapper and sliding it over his penis. He returns to me immediately, pressing his lips to mine. Peter presses me against the mattress with his hands, wet tongue against wet tongue.
“Wait,” I tell him.
“What is it?”
“I want to be on top.”
Peter pulls away a little, an amused expression on his face. “Like to be in control, huh?”
I roll my eyes. “Problem?”
Peter shakes his head and chuckles before lying down on the mattress, resting his head on his pillow. I reposition myself and carefully lower myself onto his thick, hot dick, straddling him between my thighs. He’s so big that I have no choice but to start slowly, adjusting to the sweet burn as he stretches and fills me. I lean forward, pressing my palms flat against his chest.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, just…” I shift my weight a little, taking away some of the pressure. “Give me a sec.”
“You know, I have to say,” he begins, a coy eyebrow raised. “I like you in control.”
I press my fingers to his lips and grin. “Shut up.”
“Ooh, what’re you going to do? Make m–”
I don’t let him finish. I rock back down, taking his full length. Peter moans loudly, eyes screwed shut. He grabs me by the hips, fingers digging into my skin. I pick up my pace, riding him hard. A warmth wells up inside me as he hits me in just the right spot over and over again. I throw my head back, enjoying the rush and the frantic pace of my heart. Peter starts thrusting upwards in seek of more friction. My skin feels electric, tingling and hot.
“Kate,” he hisses. “Fuck, I’m close. I can’t–”
Peter sits up abruptly, placing his hands on my back and pulling me in close so that our chests are flush against each other. I gasp in surprise, but allow him to roll us over on the mattress. He holds me close as he thrusts hard, slamming his hips into me. He kisses me, breath hot and intoxicating.
I gently bite his bottom lip as I wrap my legs around him. He pounds me into the mattress, chanting my name in my ear like it’s some desperate attempt to hold onto reality. It’s rough, it’s dirty, and it’s just what I needed to drive me to a hard and earthshattering climax. I scream his name as he’s driven over the edge, too, giving one or two earnest thrusts before being entirely spent. We’re both breathless, sweaty, and thoroughly fucked out.
Peter pulls out slowly. I wince at the sudden lack of warmth inside me. He rolls onto his back and wipes at his brow, too stunned to come up with a witty response. We lie there for a moment, my limbs too weak and shaky to support me immediately. I eventually find the energy to swing my legs over the edge of the bed and stand up, picking my clothes up from off the floor.
“You going?” he asks me. It’s probably my imagination, but he sounds disappointed.
“I’ve got an early morning tomorrow,” I explain. It’s not a lie. I like to get to the Royale before the rest of my staff to take care of opening duties.
“It’s snowing out,” he argues. “Are you sure?”
I hurriedly slip into my pants and hook my bra. I can’t remember where I left my shirt. “I’m not much for after-sex cuddling,” I tell him lamely.
“Right,” he coughs. “Was it… Er, was it good for you?”
I let out a nervous chuckle. “Yes, it was great.”
Peter looks at me like he doesn’t quite believe what I’m saying, but doesn’t come up with a reply.
“I really do have to go. Sorry.” I finally locate my shirt and quickly slip it on, rushing to button up.
I rush toward his front door without another word, leaving him no chance to say anything else. This was fun, but so unlike me. I snatch my jacket from where I left it on the couch, pulling it on one arm at a time. Peter follows me out to the living room, a bedsheet wrapped around his waist. He rubs the back of his neck, looking awkward as he leans a shoulder against the frame of his bedroom door.
“That was fun,” he tells me in a quiet voice.
I give him a polite smile. “It was. Thanks.”
“Thanks?” he almost smiles.
I shrug. I bring a hand up to my cheek and feel how warm I am. I don’t know what the proper protocol is. I’ve never done this before. I throw him a small little wave goodbye as I open the door. I don’t want to say that I’ll see him again. I don’t know if I’ll ever do this again, as great as it was. I slip through and close the door firmly behind me.
CHAPTER SIX
Peter
“I don’t know,” I mumble under my breath as I glance around nervously. “We really should have made a reservation.”
“Oh, come one,” complains David. He slaps the back of my shoulder with his palm. “I gave them a call.”
“Did they sound happy about it?”
David shrugs. “Not so much.”
I’ve never been to the Royale before. I had passed by several time before when I was still in medical school. It never seemed to pique my interest. I don’t know the last thing about fancy food, but David can’t stop raving about the place. I’ve seen tons of sparkling reviews, but I never have the time to treat myself to a fancy dinner like this –a real curse of my work life. David and I had decided to bring along the new intern team as a welcome to the hospital. Many of them were fresh-faced, new to the city. There were at least twenty of us –the other ten or so were unfortunately scheduled to work their shifts.
I walk through the massive glass doors of the Royale, which is intricately carved from a type of red hardwood as its frame. It has golden handles that are etched with floral patterns. Our not-so-little group files into the lobby where a rather nervous looking hostess greets us. Her long red hair is pulled up into a tight ponytail, and her green eyes shift from person to person before her. She’s dressed in a simple uniform consisting of a black dress shirt tucked into black dress pants, along with a matching pair of comfortable flats adored red bows on top.
“Hello,” she says sweetly. “Welcome to the Royale.”
“Hello, gorgeous,” flirts David shamelessly. He leans an elbow on her podium. “I’m the one who called earlier. Table for twenty?”
The hostess lets out a shaky breath, but manages to pull off a smile. “Yes, I was speaking with you on the phone. We’re pulling your table together right now. You’re a lot earlier than we were expecting. Would you mind taking a seat? It should only be a few more minutes.”
“Sure, no problem,” he smiles.
I look around. There are beautiful poinsettias on every table. There are garlands lining the main entrance and several of the wooden bannisters that are used to section of the restaurant floor. Everything’s so elegant and clean. It’s no wonder this place was so popular. The décor alone was enough to impress me. If the same amount of time and dedication goes into the food, I’m sure I was going to love it here. I glance around, wondering briefly if Kate is around today. I know she works here, I just don’t know her specific work hours. Not that I cared or anything. Like she said, this was totally casual.
I see her across the dining room floor and I almost trip over my own two feet. She’s wearing her hair down, curled slightly into graceful little ringlets that cascade past her shoulders. She’s not wearing her glasses today, which I find a little odd, but I’m treated with an unhindered look at her beautiful dark eyes.
She’s wearing a black dress that reaches just above her knees. Her dress’ sleeves reach to her wrists, but the steep V-neckline compliments her figure and elongates her neck. The fabric clings to her body, drapes over her hips and hugs her ass. Memories of our evening together flash before my eyes. I remember the curves of her body, the feel of her hips b
eneath my fingers, her soft skin brushing against mine. I know I’ve been staring a little too long because our eyes meet. I feel my cheeks warm as I glance away, caught in the act. Kate throws me a little wave, which I reciprocate with a small smile.
“Who’s she?” whistles David.
“No one,” I blurt out, maybe a little too quickly.
“Isn’t that the chick that turned you down at the bar the other day?”
“Would you excuse me for one moment?” I rush through my words, taking a step away from the group.
I approach Kate quickly, ignoring David’s chuckling. Kate looks surprised that I’m here.
“Hey,” I greet.
“Hi,” she whispers. “What are you doing here?”
“We’re treating the interns to dinner.”
“That’s awfully…” Kate looks over my shoulder at the group taking up space and making a ruckus. “Awful.”
“What?”
“You’re the group that didn’t make a reservation, aren’t you?”
I scratch sheepishly behind my ear. “Maybe.”
Kate rolls her eyes. She’s adorable when she’s upset. She sighs and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She casts her eyes to the floor, avoiding my gaze.
“What are you doing later tonight?” she asks me.
I raise an eyebrow. “Nothing in particular.”
Kate nods, chewing her bottom lip. I suddenly wish that it was my bottom lip that she was grazing with her teeth. I want her on top of me with nothing but that dress on.
“Did you have anything in mind?” I tease, the corners of my lips rising into a smirk. I lean in to catch her at eye-level. I catch a whiff of her floral perfume. She smells even more delicious than the fresh plates of hot food leaving the kitchen.
“I’ll call you,” she grumbles under her breath, quiet enough that only I can hear. “Tip your waitress.”
A boisterous laugh escapes me. “Only if you comp my meal.”
Kate rolls her eyes again before disappearing through the doors of the kitchen. A part of me desperately wants to follow, but I settle for watching her walk away in that gorgeous figure-hugging dress. I return to David promptly, who has on a shit-eating grin.
“Damn, she’s fine,” he coos. “How come you didn’t tell me about her?”
I shrug. “I’m not the kind of guy to kiss and tell.”
“Don’t be so modest. You make me look bad.”
“You do that all by yourself,” I snort jokingly.
The hostess returns to her podium, gathering up as many menus as she can carry in her little arms. The menus have leather covers, bound elegantly together with beautiful golden script on the front. If the interior design of the place didn’t tip you off that the Royale is a fancy place, these menus sure could.
“Right this way,” she says with a gracious wave of the hand. We follow her to an empty section of the restaurant, cornered off by several bannisters.
“We get our only little area,” chimes David. “Sweet.”
“Your server will be with you shortly.”
All twenty-some of us take a seat around the collection of tables that have been pushed together to form one long surface. I open the menu sitting before me. As expected, the prices leave me reeling.
Forty-five dollars for a steak? My God, it better be good.
The server comes along and she’s friendly enough. She laughs at all of David’s terrible jokes, no doubt fishing for a better tip when all was said and done. She takes our drink orders first to give us more time to browse through the Royale’s selection. I don’t know how to pronounce half of the things in front of me, so I stick with the steak. The last thing I want to do is embarrass myself in front of my interns, and especially in front of Kate.
I don’t see her for most of our time here. I see quick glimpses of her hair as she walks past the windowed kitchen doors, but that’s about it. She’ll occasionally be in full view when one of the servers swings the doors open wide to leave the kitchen with massive trays of food. I don’t know why I’m so eager to see her, talk to her, be near her. She had left in such a hurry. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. If I didn’t have any impulse control, I would have gotten up and left with her for my place in an instant.
“Stare any harder and your eyes will fall out,” jokes David. He leans in and whispers in my ear. “Was she really that good?”
“Phenomenal,” I bite, “but it’s none of your business.”
“Someone has a crush,” he says, taunting me with a sing-song tone.
I know better than to take the bait. Because this wasn’t a crush. What were we? Eleven? The sex had been amazing. It was a little rough, but I couldn’t complain. It was just what I needed, and I had a feeling it was exactly what Kate was looking for, too. We knew exactly what the other was looking for, but this wasn’t some high school bull with feelings.
The server passes by with a large pitcher of water for the table. I wave her over. She leans down so that I can whisper in her ear over the drowning noises of lighthearted conversation and utensils clinking.
“What time does the restaurant close?” I ask.
“Our kitchen closes at midnight,” she answers.
“And what time is Kate normally off work?”
The server gives me a confused look, but answers anyway. “Kate? Usually around one or two in the morning.”
“Why so late?”
“She’s very thorough. She likes to make sure everything is ready for the next day.”
“I see. Thank you.”
The server nods and continues with whatever task she had to deal with next. I bite my lip, shifting a little uncomfortably in my seat. I honestly don’t know if I can last until two in the morning to have Kate over again. Just her smell is enough to give me half a hard on, as embarrassing as that is. But if I’m in for another night like the one before, I tell myself that it’ll all be worth it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Kate
I kiss him hard. My lips are most certainly going to come away bruised. This time around, there’s no awkwardness. I blow right past the opportunity for any tense discussion. There’s no tip-toeing around the reason why I’m here. Peter opens the front door to his apartment and I don’t even give him time to greet me. I pull his face to mine, my fingers entwined in his hair, our tongues slithering over one another as we breath hot and heavy. I slip out of my coat and let it fall to the floor as Peter guides me through the threshold and closes the door behind me.
“What kind of asshole–” I kiss him again, nibbling on his bottom lip. I’m rewarded with a low, hungry growl. “Brings a party of twenty–” My fingers busy themselves with the zipper of his pants. “Without a reservation?” I press against his chest until his knees meet the cushions of his couch. He sits instinctively as I straddle him between my thighs. Peter’s hands slip past the deep neckline of my dress, his large and strong hands squeezing my small breasts.
“What kind of asshole–” he breathes, breaking away for a moment to allow me to slip his shirt off over his head. “Charges fifty bucks–” I trace the roof of his mouth with the tip of my tongue. Peter bucks his hips upwards, his erection already full and throbbing. “For a steak?”
“It’s a five-star restaurant,” I explain.
“So?” Peter asks.
I reach down to start lifting off my dress when Peter stops me, snatching me by the wrists. His pupils are wide, mouth parted slightly to allow his tongue to flick over his lips.
“Leave it on,” he tells me.
My breath catches in my throat. I don’t normally like people telling me what to do. But Peter’s command has my heart pounding off the charts. I nod and instead slip off his lap and get on my knees before him to help him pull his pants down from around his hips. I hook my fingers over the waistband of his boxer briefs and help him shimmy out of that, too, exposing his erection to the cool air. I’m still as impressed as I was the night before, but the lighting in the living room gives
me a much clearer picture. His tip is already dripping with pre-cum, and his shaft his red and swollen.
I start to lean in to take him in my mouth, but he stops me with a gentle press against my shoulder.
“Wait,” he pants.
“What’s wrong?”
“Quid pro quo.” He pats the couch cushion beside him, instructing me to take a seat. I get up and do so, watching as he trades places with me.
Peter slips his hand under my dress and pulls my underwear down past my ankles. He’s on his knees in front of me, stroking himself to relieve some of the tension. Patches of his skin are red and hot, his arousal undeniable. I spread my legs for him, allowing him full access. He lifts the skirt of my dress up and proceeds to stimulate my clit with the tip of his tongue. It’s wet and delightfully warm, it’s dizzying and teasing at the same time.
I struggle to fight against the gasps he draws out of me. He moves his tongue in circles, knowing exactly when to apply more pressure and when to back off. Peter hums, eyes closed, as he explores. He continues to stroke himself, seeking release. I place my hand on his head and run my fingers through his hair. I grab his hair gently by the roots and pull his face away.
“You’re allowed to pull my hair, but I’m not?” he chuckles.
“Don’t touch yourself,” I order.
Peter grins mischievously. “Or what?” he challenges.
“Or I won’t let you touch me.”
Peter disobeys and continues to stroke himself, hand tight around his shaft. I click my tongue. This won’t do.
“Get back on the couch,” I tell him. He does so, looking like he’s coming away triumphant. “Where’re the condoms?”
Peter tosses his head towards his abandoned pants on the floor. “Back pocket.”
“Not in the bathroom this time?” I giggle.
“I was expecting company.”
I bend over, deliberately slow and with my ass facing Peter.
He groans at the sight. “God, you’re perfect.”
I locate the condom and carefully rip open the packaging, turning to once again face him. I slip the condom over his length, drawing out a hiss. I sit in Peter’s lap, facing away from him. I grind slowly against his cock, relishing the way he swears.
A Christmas Reservation (The Royale Series) Page 4
