by Ella Miles
“At least let me take you to get another bottle of your favorite wine.”
“It’s not my favorite.”
“Yes, it is.”
I turn back to the bar, expecting him to order another glass of wine.
“They’re all out.”
“I doubt it.” I try to flag down the bartender, but she won’t stop for me. I sigh.
“Don’t trust me?”
“No, I don’t.”
He flags her down. “Another round,” he says without glancing at her breasts.
“I’m sorry, sir. We are all out of that wine. Can I recommend another one?”
“No, thank you, Clarissa.”
My eyes grow wide at the mention of the bartender’s name. Her name tag sits across the left side of her blouse just above her cleavage. So, he did check out her tits.
“Come split a bottle of wine with me.”
“Maybe,” I say. I can’t help but smile. I need this. I need to have one night to sleep with whomever I want before I never get to choose again. I need to finish what I never got with my last attempt at a one night stand.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
3
Killian’s hotel room is impressive. It’s one of the most impressive hotel rooms I’ve been in, and I’ve been in a lot. It’s large and spacious, and has more rooms than any hotel room should. It’s also in the Felton Grand, one of my family’s hotels. I didn’t want to come here yet. Not so soon after my father passed away. Not when this is the place I would miss him the most. But I didn’t want to tell Killian the truth when he brought me to this hotel, so I came.
I shake nervously on the couch as I watch him pour two glasses of wine. The nerves at least keep me from thinking about my father. He hands me my glass of wine, and he takes his and sits in a chair opposite to me. I hate that he is sitting there. I want him to sit next to me. I want him to kiss me. I want him to sleep with me, like he promised.
Instead, he sits, patiently watching me, as we both sip our wines.
“What do you do?” I ask, trying to distract my nerves.
“Do you really want to know? Or would you prefer, when I make you come, you don’t know anything about me? That way, when this is over, you can go back to whatever you are running from without any attachment.”
“How do you know I’m running from something? Maybe I’m just missing my father.”
“You are.”
I just nod. I don’t know if he means, I’m running from something, missing my father, or both.
“What about you? What do you do?”
“I thought we weren’t going to talk specifics.”
“No. I’m not going to tell you about me. The more you know, the more it’s likely that you will get attached.”
God, why am I here when this man keeps insulting me? I frown. “I won’t get attached.”
“No?” He raises his eyebrows.
Killian’s probably right. If I fall for him, it will only give me more of a reason to run from whomever my father and grandfather have chosen for me.
“Fine.” I sigh. “But I don’t want to tell you about me either.”
If I don’t get to know anything about this man, he doesn’t get to know anything about me.
He nods and takes a slow sip of his drink.
“When are we going to…” my voice says shakily.
“Fuck?” he says, finishing my sentence.
Wine slips from my mouth at how easily the word rolled off his tongue. He probably says fuck daily. He probably fucks daily. I’m never going to live up to the women he’s had before. I try to push that thought out of my head. He chose me. And he doesn’t have to know how inexperienced I am.
“Come here,” he says, motioning for me to come to him.
I place my glass on the coffee table and walk to him. When I reach him, he remains seated. So, I stand awkwardly in front of him. I fidget with my hands, not sure what he wants me to do.
Killian chuckles in a deep raspy voice, like he hasn’t used his voice to laugh in a long time. His hand grabs my wrist, and he pulls me hard onto his lap.
He strokes my cheek. “Don’t think, princess.”
I try to listen to his words. I try not to think as his mouth kisses down my neck, leaving warm, wet tingles. I can’t help the tears that begin welling in my eyes. Of all the terms of endearment he could have chosen to use, I can’t believe he chose the one that reminds me of my father, the one nickname my father always used to call me.
When he sees my tears, he softly kisses them with his lips before licking up the salty liquid with his tongue.
“What’s wrong, princess? We don’t have to do this.” He tucks my hair back behind my ear before his hand softly rubs my back. “I just thought you might need it.”
“Why did you call me princess?”
He smiles weakly at me. “Because you are one.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re beautiful.” He softly kisses my hand. “You’re intelligent.” He kisses my other hand. “You’re used to being taken care of.” He softly kisses me on the cheek. “You’re a little too sweet and naive.” He kisses the other cheek. “Your clothes are simple yet expensive.” His kiss brushes softly on my lips. “You should be worshipped.” He runs a hand through my hair. “You’re a princess in every sense of the word.”
I smile at how intuitive he is. He’s picked up a lot about me in the short amount of time we have been together.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay, you can call me princess.”
He wipes my remaining tears on my cheeks. “It’s going to be okay, princess.”
I suck in a breath as he grabs the nape of my neck and kisses me hard on the lips. I moan as his tongue massages mine. His kisses are deep and intense. His kisses are full of purpose.
I hold on to his neck as he kisses me. I’m too unsure of what to do with my hands to do much else, even though my hands are desperate to rip off his suit jacket and buttoned-down shirt to see what lies beneath them.
Instead, he lifts me and carries me to a room with a lavish bed covered in throw pillows. I land softly among the pillows. I watch as he removes his jacket and carefully places it over the back of a chair in the corner of the room. He removes his tie before he unbuttons the top couple of buttons of his shirt.
I watch as he climbs over me, but his body doesn’t touch mine. My heart pounds erratically in my chest as I stare up at the thick, muscle of a man above me. I squeeze my hands into fists to prevent myself from running my hands all over his body.
Killian squints his eyes at me before he takes my hand and presses it against his chest. “You can touch.” He smirks at me.
He leans down and kisses me again, hard. It’s so forceful he sucks all the air from my chest. His hand slides up my shirt, massaging the exposed skin of my stomach. His eyes occasionally open to study my reaction when he takes everything a step further, but he doesn’t slow down or hesitate. The intensity of his stare is there every time he opens his eyes. I can’t help but keep my eyes open, needing to take in every moment of this man.
I let my hand slip into the opening of his shirt to feel his hard chest, but I don’t let myself explore beyond that. His hand mimics mine, except his moves with more confidence and surety. I gasp when his hand expertly finds my nipple beneath my shirt. He slowly rubs the peak between his thumb and finger.
“Don’t think, princess. Just feel,” he whispers into my ear.
This time, I do what he says. All I feel is the intensity building inside me. He releases my lips, and his tongue discovers my other nipple as he lifts my shirt up.
“Oh, wow,” I moan when he flicks his tongue.
“You’re beautiful, princess.”
His words barely register. I can’t focus on anything but the sensations on my breasts.
His hand slips down my pants, and my heart rate increases in anticipation. He takes my pants off in one fluid motion, and then
I’m exposed. My shirt is lifted high above my breasts, and my pants now lie in a pile on the floor while Killian is still completely clothed. Why the hell is he still clothed?
When his mouth sinks lower until his tongue touches my clit, I no longer care he is still clothed. All I care about is that he keeps doing that.
“Oh my god!” I moan louder than I probably should.
I feel his mouth curl into a smile, but his tongue never leaves my clit.
“God, don’t ever stop whatever the hell you are doing.” I breathe fast as he swirls his tongue faster and faster over my bud.
When he sticks two fingers inside me, I almost lose it.
“Killian!” I scream as he stretches me.
The sensation is beyond words. His fingers seem to fill me completely. I can’t imagine how it will feel to have his cock pushed deep inside me.
His fingers move faster inside me as his tongue moves in rhythm with them.
“Come for me,” he commands in between thrusts inside me.
“Oh, fuck,” I moan as I come, just like he commanded.
His fingers slowly and reluctantly move out of me, but I can’t move. I’m too exhausted.
I just came on a man’s fingers while his mouth tasted my juices. That’s a first. I’ve had sex before, sure, but no man has ever made me come before. Maybe that’s why I never went to seek it out. If I knew orgasms could feel better than the ones I give myself with a vibrator, I would have sought out men who could give orgasms like Killian sooner. I wonder if he is as good at making a woman orgasm when he’s thrusting deep inside her.
“Be right back, princess,” he says. He gently kisses my lips. It’s a stark contrast to the kisses he was giving me just moments earlier.
I exhale deeply for the first time in a long time as I sink into the bed. I close my eyes as I wait for him to come back. I don’t bother with covering my naked body. Modeling has taught me not to be shy about my body, and I want more.
When Killian comes back, I’ll be brave. I’ll show him what I want. I want him to fuck me like I’m sure he has with countless women before. I want to feel slutty and dirty. I want to feel wild. For the first time in my life, I want to fuck a complete stranger.
4
I wake up suddenly as I’m thrown from another nightmare about my father’s death. I try to wipe the tears streaming down my cheeks, but I can’t move. I’m pinned to the hotel bed by a hot stranger’s arm.
His arm feels nice, stretched across my body—that is, until I realize we are both naked. Completely naked. Not I’m-wearing-underwear-and-a-bra kind of naked. No, I’m utterly naked. He is, too. I know because his leg is draped over me, and his erection is pressed against my hip.
I lie in the bed, frozen, not sure what to do. I don’t want to wake him, but I can’t stay here in bed all day although it does feel good to be wrapped in a hot stranger’s arms.
I know how this goes though. As soon as he wakes up, I’ll awkwardly try to get dressed while he tries to find the best way to kick me out as fast as possible. I can’t handle that—not today, not ever.
Maybe if I just slowly slip off the bed, I can get out, get dressed, and escape the hotel room before he even wakes up to avoid the tension bound to happen if he wakes up. Then, I can go back to my own bed and forget this ever happened. Except, after a night like last night, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forget. I’ve never orgasmed so hard in my life. My only regret is not actually having sex. I have no idea why Killian is naked.
I gently begin moving his arm off my chest, already feeling the cold the second his arm falls to the bed. I wince, afraid he is going to wake up, but he doesn’t. I run my fingers harshly across my cheeks, flinging the tears from my face. Now, I just have to get out from beneath his muscular leg. I try to shimmy off the bed, but I can’t. His leg is holding me in place. I try lifting—
“What are you doing, princess?”
I glance over at Killian. His eyes are still shut, and his five o’clock shadow has grown slightly overnight.
“Um…” I swallow hard. “I need to pee, and I have a meeting in five hours I need to get to.”
Killian leans over and softly kisses me on the lips. “I’ll order breakfast then.”
He moves off of me and gets out of bed. I watch his bare ass as he walks to his suitcase. He pulls out a pair of jeans and slips them on without putting underwear on first. I curiously look at this man. His body is even better than I imagined, his muscles are sculpted into thick strands of hard steel along his back down to his cute butt I want to squeeze. I just wish I could have seen the front of his body.
He leaves me alone in the bed.
Weird. My experience after my almost one-night stand is that the guy wants you out fast. If not that, then I would assume he would be looking for sex. But Killian did neither of those things. Maybe he doesn’t find me attractive?
I shake my head. It doesn’t matter what he thinks. Today will be the last day I ever see him, but it still stings. It hurts that he doesn’t even want to have sex with me.
I get dressed quickly, but linger in the bedroom because I’m embarrassed. He has seen me naked and done untold things to my body while I barely even touched his.
Maybe he wanted a blow job, and I didn’t even offer?
Maybe he has a girlfriend?
Maybe he was drunker than I thought and has a hangover?
Maybe he’s into guys?
When I hear the door to the hotel room open and shut, followed closely by the smell of bacon, I can’t hide out in the bedroom any longer. My stomach rumbles loudly as I open the door.
Killian, still shirtless, is pouring coffee at the small table in the dining room. He stops and looks at me as I enter the room. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t have to. His eyes say everything—that he’s attracted to me, that he wishes I were naked again and back in bed—but something is holding him back from doing what he really wants. I wish I knew what that was.
I let my eyes drop to his body as I make my way over to the table that is large for a hotel room, even for a suite. From the looks of his muscles, it’s obvious he works out but not in the obsessed-with-the-gym sort of way, simply in the I-care-about-my-body-and-want-to-be-healthy-and-look-good sort of way.
My mouth is gaping, I realize, as I stare at his body. “I, uh…your body…you look good,” I say, trying to make up for why I’m gawking awkwardly at him.
He chuckles at my broken words. I quickly bite my lip to keep it from falling open again and saying anything more embarrassing.
“I didn’t know what you would want for breakfast, so I ordered two options. There is a healthy option or an I-want-to-die-happy option.”
I take a seat opposite him and grab the plate with the pancake, eggs, and bacon before I change my mind. His eyes grow wide, but he doesn’t say anything.
I smile. “It wasn’t what you thought I would choose?” I slightly raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to respond.
Killian frowns, shaking his head. “No.”
That’s when I look at the plate in front of him. A majority of the plate is fruit and vegetables along with an egg white omelet. He’s not drinking coffee, only water. He’s a health nut. Maybe I shouldn’t have shown my true colors in front of him, but I don’t really care. After breakfast, I will never see this man again.
“How are you feeling this morning?”
I bite into my pancake, the food immediately settling my stomach.
“Hungry,” I say.
I dig more into my meal so I don’t have to talk. I don’t know what you are supposed to say when having breakfast with a man you almost had sex with. And he doesn’t seem like a huge talker anyway. So, maybe he will enjoy the silence.
“When did your father die?”
I was wrong. He’s a talker. I stare awkwardly up at this stranger, not sure I want to confide in him. But I need to confide in someone, so why not him? He’s already told me he doesn’t want me to get attached, so he’s not lookin
g for anything beyond whatever happens this morning.
“He died four days ago.” I don’t look at him. I just shovel more food into my mouth.
“That’s what I thought,” he says, his voice sounds sad, withdrawn. “Were you close?”
“Yes, he was the only person in my family who even remotely understood me.”
“I’m sorry,” he says after a long pause.
I give him a weak smile as I glance up from my food. He seems genuine. I nod, but words like that never make me feel any better, no matter how genuine they are.
A few seconds pass as we both make huge dents in our breakfast plates. Neither of us speak. I barely even breathe.
“I’ve never lost anyone like that. I can’t imagine the pain you are going through…”
“It’s not something I ever thought I would go through. And I’m not sure how I’m going to get through it right now. The pain is unbearable. I know I have to find a way…for him.”
He nods and waits for me to say more, but I don’t.
“His death is what you’re running from,” he says.
I stare off into the distance. Is that what I’m running from? His death? I think for a moment. No, it’s not his death I’m running from. It’s my future.
“No,” I say firmly. “I’m running from family obligations that have been sped up now that he’s gone.”
His mouth turns upward into a slight smile. I have no idea why my statement would make a man who hardly ever smiles, smile.
“Now, that’s something I can understand.”
I run my hands through my hair, trying to read into that sentence’s meaning. What family obligations could a man almost in his thirties have? He can’t still be following his parents’ orders, like I am. That could only mean one thing…
“Oh my God! You’re married, aren’t you? You probably have four or five kids at home you’re responsible for.” I push away from the table and begin searching the hotel room for my purse, but I don’t see it. Shit, I silently curse. I’ll have to leave and get a new ID and credit cards later. I don’t care about the cash I will lose. It’s not worth staying around to find out I was the other woman—even if it was only for one night.
