Hotel O

by Clarissa Wild

  And what an idiot I am for trying to push her to the brink.

  For trying to prove to myself that she was nothing more than just a toy to play with as I pleased.

  I was wrong. Dead wrong.

  Biting my lip in rage, I make my way to my car and set her down in the passenger’s seat, securing her seat belt tight. Then I get behind the wheel and drive off in a hurry, not giving a shit that the event is still going down.

  Everything will go according to plan, just like it always does.

  I trust my co-workers to carry out their work professionally and to make the guests happy, whatever the cost. I don’t doubt they can handle it.

  I only hope that I’m not too late … with her.

  Chapter 26

  Kat

  I wake up in a bed that smells like warm cookies and syrup and a dash of tropical fruit.

  Or maybe that’s pancakes I’m smelling … I’m not sure.

  But who could be cooking?

  I blink a couple of times and stretch my limbs, feeling refreshed and ready to start the day. Only when I look around do I realize I’m not in my own bed. Or in my home.

  What the hell?

  “Good morning.”

  The sudden voice makes me jolt up and down in the bed.

  “Jesus. Fuck.”

  It’s Declan, and he’s laughing out loud. “Sorry, did I scare you?”

  “Kinda,” I reply, immediately tucking my hair behind my ear. When I look down, I notice I’m still wearing that same outfit from when I was at the hotel. Except I’m no longer there …

  “The hotel …” I mumble as I gaze up at him. “Wait, how did I get here?”

  “I took you home,” he replies, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorjamb. “How are you feeling?”

  “Um … good, I guess,” I say, gazing around while still confused as hell. “So this is your place?”

  He nods, approaching me with arrogance and flair. “I took you to the nearest place I knew you’d be safe.”

  “Huh …” Interesting.

  “Sorry, I didn’t want to go through the hassle of finding your keys and trying to bring you to your own house, so I took the easier route. Hope you don’t mind.” He sits down on the bed beside me, but it’s so close. Closer than I’m used to from him.

  And I’m suddenly very much aware of the fact that I’m still wearing this … thing. This see-through outfit that doesn’t leave much to the imagination. Instinctively, I pull up the sheets.

  He’s looking at me in such a different way from before.

  His smile seems a lot more genuine, and his eyes seem bigger. Does that make sense? Probably not, but it’s almost as if something about him has changed. Or am I imagining things?

  “You’re safe here,” he says, placing a hand on top of mine. “You don’t have to hide.”

  I swallow and lick my lips. Confused doesn’t even begin to describe the way I’m feeling now.

  I don’t remember coming here. I don’t remember any of this. The last thing I remember was … that room.

  Being tied to that pole. All those men. And then … calling out for Declan.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asks, tilting his head as if he’s trying to gaze deeper into my eyes.

  “Last night. I called out your name.”

  He nods.

  “So you heard?” My cheeks flush. “Sorry I—”

  He places a finger on my lips. “That’s all over and done now.”

  I nod softly, averting my eyes so I’m not distracted by his. I’m trying to remember what happened, but it’s hard. I’ve only got bits and pieces, and the timeline isn’t clear.

  “Did I black out?” I ask, worried something might’ve happened.

  “I’m not sure. But you weren’t very responsive.”

  “Fuck,” I say, rubbing my face. “God, I’m so embarrassed.”

  He grabs my hands and lowers them. “Don’t be. It’s understandable, considering everything I did with you.”

  The smile that follows is so sweet it makes my heart jump.

  Jesus. When did I start to fall for him?

  He grabs my hand. “I just want to apologize. If I’d known you were so tired, I wouldn’t have let you—”

  “I made the choice,” I say. “It was my decision. You don’t have to apologize.”

  Since when is he so caring? When did he change and why? I must’ve missed the clues.

  “Right.” He smiles gently. Then he gets up from the bed. “Hungry?”

  “Uhh …”

  He raises a brow. “Don’t tell me you don’t like pancakes.”

  So my nose was right after all. “Oh, I do,” I answer, biting my lip. “But, um …”

  I stare down at the clothes I’m still wearing. Or rather, the lack thereof.

  His eyes scan me from top to bottom before he breaks out in a short laugh. “I almost forgot. Hold on.” He walks out of the room and comes back in with a velvety white robe. “Sorry, I don’t have anything for girls.”

  I grin as he hands it to me. “It’s fine.”

  “I’ll … wait here. Feel free to take a shower. Breakfast is coming soon.” He points over his shoulder and awkwardly walks backward, closing the door too.

  Only when I’m sure he’s not around anymore do I throw off the blanket and put on the robe. It’s so soft, I feel like I’m wearing an actual cloud. And it smells like him …

  Why do I even recognize his smell? Damn, my easy heart.

  I shake it off and put on some slippers that are underneath the bed. Then I open the curtains and let the light in. But good God, I am not prepared for the amazing view. We’re sky high above the city. And although I have no clue what building or where exactly I am, I can definitely see Hotel O from here just a few blocks away.

  I stretch out again and let out another yawn before going into the bathroom adjacent to his room. It smells like lavender soap and fresh towels in here. I snoop through his things until I find a cologne, spritzing it out into the air. Yup. Definitely his.

  I close my eyes and take in the smell. Goose bumps scatter across my skin.

  What are you doing, Kat? Shower, remember? Jesus.

  I quickly turn on the water and throw off my things, then step under the stream. I lather myself with his soap, and by the time I’m done washing and drying off, I smell just like him. Lovely.

  I wrap myself in a fresh robe and open the door. “What do I do with my dirty clothes?”

  “Oh, just leave them in the corner,” he yells back. “I’ll bring them to the cleaner and get them back to you.”

  A blush spreads on my cheeks. That’s nice of him.

  “Breakfast is ready!” he calls out.

  I bite my lip and reply, “Just a second.”

  Quickly checking myself in the mirror, I fidget with my hair and tuck my tits in so I look at least a little bit presentable despite still looking like a hooker that was plucked off the street after fucking twenty guys. I wish I was exaggerating. But not even a shower can erase this filth.

  I don’t even know exactly what went down last night. Only that a lot of it was dirty as fuck. And that I felt like I was losing myself at the moment, which turned out to be my downfall.

  I underestimated my own stamina, and for some reason, my first instinct was to call out for help. Or more specifically … Declan.

  I wanted him to be there. To watch over me. With him, I felt safe.

  But the moment he left, my whole sense of self seemed to vanish.

  And then he came back. Was it because I needed him? Because I called out for him? Or was there another reason?

  Taking a deep breath, I shrug it off and open the door, determined not to let my foolish heart believe in the lies it fabricated. He was only looking out for both our interests, nothing else.

  As Declan sets down plates filled with warm pancakes on the table in the middle of the room, I look around his spacious apartment. The bottom half of the walls have warm wood pan
eling, and most of the furniture looks like it’s made from a dark mahogany too. It contrasts nicely with the top of the white painted walls and ceiling, and, of course, the fur rug in front of the long beige couch.

  “What do you think?” he asks as he pulls up a chair for me. “Hungry?”

  “Oh …” I smile, sitting down on the chair. “You’ve made it cozy in here.”

  “Thanks,” he says, placing forks and knives on the table too. “Did the decorating myself. I’m quite proud of it, if I say so myself.”

  “I can imagine,” I say while he puts down two cups of coffee.

  As he sits down opposite me with a smirk on his face, there’s an awkward silence between us. It makes my skin crawl, that’s how awkward it is.

  “Well … eat up!” he says.

  “Right.” I pick up my fork and knife and cut off a piece, shoving it into my mouth because I’m famished. But I’m not prepared for how good this tastes … like, oh my God, I want to lick up my plate kinda good.

  “Like it?” he asks, cocking his head as he cuts into his pancakes.

  I nod profusely, shoving more into my mouth. “Amazing. How did you learn to cook like this?”

  He laughs. “It’s one of the only things I can do right.”

  “Oh, don’t say that,” I say. “There are plenty of other things you’re great at. Right?”

  “Like what?” He raises a brow.

  I mull it over for a while, but then all I can think of is how amazing he is with his hands … his lips … his dick … and then my entire face heats again. “Well, I can think of something,” I mumble, trying not to make it sound even weirder than it already is.

  He lets out a short laugh. “Of course, you can, filthy kitten.”

  That word makes my heart flutter. I don’t know why, but every time I hear it, I’m smiling from ear to ear.

  “Speaking of which,” he says, picking up his cup of coffee, “tell me what you thought about last night.”

  I swallow down a piece of pancake that felt like it got stuck in my throat, then I wash it down with some coffee before answering. “Hmm … interesting.”

  “Just interesting?” He slurps his coffee.

  “I liked it.”

  “Which part?”

  Well, this is starting to feel like a job interview.

  “Everything.”

  He takes a casual bite of his pancakes and swallows it before continuing. “Really? Name some specifics.”

  I gaze up at him. Are we really going to do this? He’s not averting his eyes, though, so I guess we are. “You. Me. That room. That man.”

  “What about the part when you were tied and used by several men?” He holds his cup of coffee with a certain aloofness, but there’s a definite serious undertone in his voice.

  I can barely swallow down the last bit of pancake I put in my mouth. “I don’t … remember much.”

  “Lie.”

  Goddammit. Why does he see through me so easily?

  I lean back and fold my arms. “What do you want me to say?”

  “Why did you call out for me?” he asks firmly.

  “Because I thought you’d be there,” I reply.

  “I never said that.”

  “I just assumed,” I say.

  He narrows his eyes. “You assumed wrong.”

  “Sorry.” I make a face. “I didn’t know you’d get mad.”

  “I’m not,” he says, blinking a couple of times while blowing out a breath. “You wanted this. You signed the agreement.”

  I nod. “And I was going to go through with it.”

  He plants his coffee down with a little bit too much effort, and it makes me jolt up from my chair. “You were out of energy and couldn’t take any more of it.”

  “I could’ve handled it.”

  “No, you couldn’t.” His stern voice irks me.

  I frown. “You don’t know that.”

  “You collapsed in my arms like a used fuck doll. I carried you all the way out to my fucking office and then drove you back home myself.”

  I stare at him in disbelief. Did he really just say he carried me out in his arms?

  “But … why?” I ask.

  He clenches his jaw and looks away. “Because you … called my name.”

  “You could’ve just given me encouraging words and let me continue.”

  “No, I couldn’t,” he says through gritted teeth. “You didn’t see what I saw.”

  “And what did you see?” I ask, raising a brow.

  He sucks in a deep breath and looks away again. “A girl in desperate need …”

  “Oh …” I laugh out loud and shake my head. “You wanted to be the savior.” I drink the last bit of my coffee. “Well, tell you what … I don’t need a savior.”

  As I get up to put my mug in the sink so I can get out of there fast, he gets up too and follows me into the kitchen. Right before I turn around, he grabs my arm and forces me to look at him.

  “Are you honestly saying you could’ve continued all night long with those men shoving their dicks in your face? Making you swallow their jizz?”

  I bite my lip, jerking myself free. “Probably.”

  “No, you don’t want to admit you got in over your head.”

  “What’s it to you? You know what I like.”

  “This wasn’t just pleasure to you, and you know it,” he says, still up in my face. “There’s something else … something you’re not telling me.”

  Jesus. Why am I such an open book?

  He can’t know what I’m writing. He just can’t; it’s not even a possibility. Ever.

  “I don’t have to tell you anything. This was just an agreement between you and me. A mutual exchange of pleasure, right? That’s what you wanted. Nothing more, nothing less,” I reply, looking him up and down. I won’t back down. I’m not scared of him anymore.

  “You just don’t want to tell me,” he says, trapping me between his arms. “Why? What do you have to lose?”

  He’s so close now; I can feel the heat prickling on my skin. A word lingers on my tongue, but I don’t want to say it. I don’t want to face the implications … what it would cause.

  Yet it tumbles out anyway. “You.”

  His grip on the kitchen counter tightens as he leans forward. The air between us feels thick with unspoken desires and promises. Something more than … this.

  “I can’t be in a relationship,” he whispers, his forehead almost leaning against mine.

  “I know,” I say, unable to keep my hands from touching his ironed shirt.

  “It would put everything at risk,” he adds.

  I nod, rubbing my lips together. I understand why he’s reluctant, considering his job. It’s high risk. The hotel would be ruined if things came out …

  He’s right. We can’t date. We’re like opposites, and he always pisses me off. Not to mention the fact that my job is a risk factor too. If he knew what I did for a living, he’d kick me out right now.

  Maybe I should tell him. Maybe that’d be the better route for both of us.

  Except the moment I open my mouth, his lips crash onto mine.

  Chapter 27

  Declan

  Fuck it.

  I tried so hard to stop myself from falling. I fought it with all I had, but these lips … they’re too hard to ignore. I want to taste them. I want her. I want it all.

  I told myself I could do this, that I could ignore the growing need inside my heart, but I can’t. I can’t fucking do it anymore.

  Not when I have to watch her get fucked by a million other guys.

  Just the thought of them having her pisses me off beyond control. I wanted to punch each one of them—start a fight, I don’t care—even though it made no sense because I was the one who put her in that position in the first place. It was all my idea because I wanted to see how far she’d go. And how far I’d go to protect myself and the hotel.

  When she called out my name, it felt like she needed me to save her, and
I couldn’t say no, not even if I tried. But enough is enough. I can’t take it any longer.

  I need to have her. She needs to belong to me and no one else.

  So I kiss her deeply. Hard. Like I should have long ago.

  The moment she stepped into my life, I should’ve known she’d consume my every waking thought. Not only because of the lust or the sexual energy that constantly sparks between us, but because of our connection beyond that. My unshaken need to get closer, intimately, in her life and heart.

  Fuck. I don’t understand it … Why her? Why now, out of all the times I could’ve fallen for a girl but didn’t? So many of them are there—online, offline, ready for the taking—but I don’t want any of them. All I want is her. And it’s been pissing me off to the point where I kept lashing out at her.

  But she’s suffered at my hand. I’ve treated her like shit, fucked her like she was an object, and she took it all without complaints. She’s too fucking perfect, and I tried to ruin it. Tried to make her see how bad of a man I would be for her just so she’d get away.

  Just so we’d both be safe. But there’s no point in being safe if you can’t have what you want, is there? And I definitely want her.

  In fact, I can’t even keep my fucking hands off her right now as I’m fondling her tits right through the fabric of her robe. Her moans are what keep me going, her nipples taut and needy, just like me.

  But then she unlatches her lips from mine, whispering, “We can’t …”

  “I know, but I’m doing it anyway,” I whisper.

  “But why? You said you didn’t—”

  I silence her with another kiss.

  It doesn’t make any sense, but it doesn’t have to. I can’t explain to her what I’m feeling right now. I, myself, don’t even know why or how it’s happening. It just is.

  Instead of thinking about it, I just do it. I claim her mouth, her tongue, the rim of her lips, and everything between.

  Right then, the doorbell rings, but I ignore it, going straight for the kill.

  It keeps ringing, though. Someone’s not letting up.

  “Fuck,” I growl out loud as her lips unlock from mine once again. “Ignore it,” I say, trying to kiss her again, but she nudges us apart.