by April Fire
“You’re not funny,” she tells him as he wipes at his eyes under his glasses, “not one bit.”
Evidently, though, he’s struggling to deal with his own hilarity as he splutters, “My abs hurt, oh God.”
“You’re an idiot,” she scowls, pulling him along before he topples over.
“Hey, you agreed to go out with me. You brought the idiocy on yourself,” he reasons, but she really doesn’t care much for reason when there’s a big empty hotel bed calling out to them. As much as she loves what he’s wearing, she’d really like him to be not wearing it as soon as possible.
They get a rather disapproving look from the receptionist when they hurry past him and into the elevator. Richard aims his tongue at Lauren’s neck as the doors slide closed but instead manages to stick his tongue in her ear, causing her to yelp and him to pull a rather disgusted face.
“Try here, instead,” she says with a grin, tapping a finger to her lips.
His face lights in a smile and he nods, bringing his hands up to her cheeks and brushing some loose strands of hair behind her ear. Her eyes fall shut as he leans in and kisses her, first a gentle brush of his mouth, then a biting promise nipped into her bottom lip. Her hands fall tight on his hips as he opens his mouth and flicks his tongue lightly against hers, but she quickly turns it into something more, something dirtier, something searching and wanting and needing.
As the elevator rises, so does the heat, his hand sliding into her hair and pulling just hard enough to make her groan into his mouth. She drops her fingers to his waistband, dipping them under his belt and pulling his hips closer to hers, a hint of hardness pressing against her. It’s his turn to moan when she rubs her thumb over his crotch, feeling his body jerk and his breath hitch.
It shocks the life out of both of them when the elevator doors open with a sharp ping and they have to stop grinding against one another in case some unassuming guest wants to use it.
Fortunately, there’s no-one there, and Lauren pulls Richard back into a demanding kiss, attempting to look where she’s going at the same time. She hates that she can’t just have him right now, push him up against the crisp white of the corridor walls and drop to her knees for him.
It’s only when she looks around at the identical doors studding the place that she realizes she has no idea where Richard’s room is or whether she’s even headed in the right direction; she pulls her lips away from his to look around and make a vaguely questioning gesture at the doors around them. Richard seems to get what she’s saying and guides her towards the far end of the corridor, a hand draped over her hip.
It takes him far too long to fumble around in his wallet and fish out the key card, so Lauren passes the time by trying to distract him as much as possible, placing wet, sharp kisses to his neck and sliding her hand into the back of his suit pants.
Lauren’s so ready to throw him across any kind of surface when they finally tumble through the door, Richard struggling to shove the key card back in his wallet and get his hand on Lauren’s chest at the same time. It’s only when Lauren’s caught her breath and taken in her surroundings that she realizes there’s someone else in the room with them.
“Uh…hi,” Emma says from the armchair where she sits, cross-legged, laptop perched on her knees and a glass of wine balanced in her hand. “In my defense, I didn’t think Rich would be able to get you back here.”
“Emma, what the hell?” Richard exclaims, sounding frustrated in more ways than one, “get out!”
She holds her hands up in surrender, “alright! I’m going, I swear,” she says, snapping her laptop shut and floating from the armchair and into the hallway between their rooms. “Hey, Lauren,” she says breezily, and Lauren feels her cheeks heat.
“Hey,” she replies, without making eye-contact.
Emma just shakes her head at both of them. “Use condoms, don’t be loud, and always reciprocate,” she says matter-of-factly, pointing a menacing finger before sweeping out of the room, wine in hand, and shutting the door behind her.
Richard makes an exasperated face in her wake, then throws an apologetic glance in Lauren’s direction. “She always picks the worst time.”
Lauren knows she shouldn’t worry, knows that just because Emma’s nice and funny and a similar age to Richard doesn’t mean that there’s anything going on, but she just wants to check before she puts herself at the center of all this. “I’m not – getting in the middle of anything, am I?”
The look on Richard’s face is almost laughable, not to mention relieving. “Me and Emma?” he snorts, gesturing in her direction, “No. We irritate each other far too much. Plus, she’s gay as a feather boa, to use her phrasing.”
“Ah. Good,” Lauren breathes, “now, get over here.”
He doesn’t hesitate to obey, pulling her hips against his own and pushing their mouths back together, his erection firm against her thigh and his hands insistent on her ass. She starts work on his shirt, cursing the intricacy of buttons as her fingers slip against the fabric. She’d rip it right off him if she didn’t think it cost more than her apartment.
She guides them both over to the bed, still yanking at the buttons until she gives up and snaps a you do it at Richard. It’s rather difficult to keep kissing and take clothes off at the same time, but they manage it, and by the time Richard’s back hits the bed sheets, his shirt and jacket are gone and Lauren’s lost her shoes and her tights somewhere along the line.
She pulls away from his lips for a second to admire him, spread underneath her, his chest panting and speckled with light brown hair, a delicate trail of it disappearing into his pants. She traces it with her finger, finally getting his belt undone and his pants open and cupping him through his boxers. The gasp he lets out makes her grin with satisfaction, but she’s far from done teasing him just yet.
His skin tastes of salt and soap as she kisses down his chest, pausing only to nip at his hips and feel him tense under her. When she mouths at his underwear, his hips rise off the bed, and she feels a hand snake loosely into her hair.
“Do something,” he gasps, “just fucking do something.”
So, she does. She yanks down his boxers in one movement and watches his dick spring free, swollen and glistening at the tip. It’s a nice size -- thick, too, and she remembers how it used to fill her up perfectly and feels an ache between her legs. She lowers her head and laps at the tip, grinning at him when he makes an obscene sound and tightens his hand in her hair.
“Lauren, with the greatest respect, get the hell on with it,” he pleads, pushing her head down and groaning as she finally takes him into her mouth and begins to suck, rolling her tongue against him like she thinks she remembers he likes and working her hand around the base of his cock in time with her mouth.
She feels herself choke a little when his hips snap up a little too fast for her throat to cope with, but manages to avoid any spluttering sessions, pushing his pelvis down firmly and setting her own pace, dragging her tongue slow and steady over the sensitive underside. Each of his moans makes the throbbing between her legs more insistent, until she finally gives in and snakes a hand into her own underwear, teasing herself lightly with one finger. She knows he’s close when he starts babbling nonsense.
“God, Lauren, you’re – yes, keep – keep doing that, that’s so good, how are you so – just – oh, God, stop – stop, or I’ll come, Lauren – stop!”
She pulls off at the very last second, hearing him gasp in frustration and grinning at him wildly. Her hand stays at the base of his dick, jacking him slow enough to keep him from his climax yet just fast enough to keep him moaning like that. She’s not too far away herself, her pussy wet with the thought of him inside her and the thrill of seeing him so hard for her.
He pushes himself onto his elbows and draws her up his body and into a kiss, causing her to grind against him wantonly. When he sits up properly, he pushes a hand down her top and reaches inside her bra, groping her breast as she fumbles behind her for
the clasp. He undoes her zipper and pulls her dress over her head at the same time she unhooks her bra, and soon she’s sitting in his lap in nothing but her underwear. His pants are still wrapped awkwardly around his knees, and they both wrestle them off, laughing when Richard’s left in just his shoes and socks. They quickly get hurled across the room in the same general direction of the rest of their clothes.
Lauren’s heart starts to race as Richard gently flips them over and lays her on her back, grinning at her in between soft kisses to her neck. “My turn,” he whispers into her skin, running his hands down her body and nipping at her collarbone.
She decides never to tease him again when he begins to get his own back, one of her breasts caught firm in his hand and the other under his tongue, her back arching as he grazes his mouth over a hard nipple. She spreads her legs and pushes up her hips as a form of invitation, but he doesn’t go any faster, taking his damn time as he licks and nips and sucks his way down her chest excruciatingly slowly.
It takes everything she has not to scream at him when he starts to stroke his fingers between her legs, the fabric of her underwear providing delicious yet agonizing friction against her clit. She lets out a moan when he finally drags the fabric to one side and massages her with two fingers, occasionally slipping them just inside her and making her hips twitch with want.
She can feel every throb of her own pulse, her hands fisting in the sheets when he finally dips his head down and licks over her, his lips closing around her clit whilst his fingers pump slowly in and out of her. He’s definitely gotten better at this.
His pace starts to quicken, his tongue finding all the best spots and coaxing moan after moan out of her. She threads a hand into his hair, pushing him down gently and throwing a leg over his shoulder to get him deeper. His fingers are moving faster now, counterpoint to his tongue, and she feels the pleasure building in between her thighs and in her chest and right at the back of her skull.
She gives his hair a tug, but he doesn’t stop. Her orgasm drives into her like a freight train and she swears she sees stars, white exploding behind her eyes and her hips snapping upwards as she writhes in the sheets. It tingles right to the tips of her toes and leaves her gasping, her whole body shimmering with sweat and fuzzy with pleasure.
“Fucking hell,” is all she manages to gasp when she’s finally caught her breath, and she hears Richard laugh.
When she sits up, he’s smiling at her, his fingers still sending little waves of satisfaction through her hips, and she wonders if she’s ever wanted him this much, his arms roped with muscle and his hair in a mess from her fingers. She grabs for him when she sees he’s still hard, his dick straining towards his stomach.
She gropes for it as they kiss deeply, feeling the vibrations of his moan through her lips and the tension of his muscles under her hand. “Can I?” she hears him stutter, a hand sliding between her legs. “I’ve got condoms.”
“Yes,” she breathes, “fuck me, rich boy.”
He nods against her neck, before she feels cool air wash over her as he pulls away, stumbling off the bed and towards his pile of open cases. She takes this opportunity to stare at his perfectly formed ass and the flex of muscles in his back, wondering how the hell she managed to get a guy like this in bed. He shoots her a shy smile as he hurries back to her, tearing open the condom and sweeping his gaze over her body with such awe on his face that she feels herself blush.
After a good deal of fumbling around and trying to maneuver his limbs into a suitable position, he’s ready for her, staring down at her and biting his lip. “Tell me if anything’s wrong, or if you want me to stop, or if I’m hurting you or – or –”
She cuts him off with a kiss, stroking her fingers through the soft hairs at the base of his neck. “I’m not nineteen anymore, you won’t hurt me. And I don’t want you to stop, I want you to start, you big idiot,” she smiles, then gives him an encouraging peck on the nose.
He breathes a laugh and nods, his hips inching forward and his length pressing inside of her, stretching her open and reaching places his fingers didn’t. Her back arches as he fills her up, their hips crushed tight against each other and their breaths rushing out of them rhythmically. He drops his face to her neck as he starts to thrust, slow and luxurious at first, dragging against her spot just so. Gasping, she pulls him tighter to her, urging his hips forward faster.
When she wraps her legs around his waist, he’s suddenly a whole lot deeper; she cries out at the wave of pleasure it sends crashing over her and drags her nails down his back. His yelp turns into a groan and he picks up his pace just slightly, still not enough to keep her from wanting more.
“Harder,” she breathes, “this is – ah – great but – harder, please, I won’t break.”
“You sure?” he asks, and she tells herself that slapping him would be wrong, but she can still imagine.
“Yes, you dick, fuck me!” she cries, and he finally seems to get the message, driving his hips forward and pressing hers into the mattress. Sweet love-making is for people in love – for now, she’s only in lust, and she wants it rough.
With a growl that fuels her brewing orgasm, he bites at her neck, dragging his teeth across the sensitive skin under her ear and nipping along her jaw bone. “No hickeys,” she forces herself to gasp, “I’ve got work tomorrow.” She tells herself that next time, they’ll do this on a weekend, so they can leave as many marks all over each other as they want.
He responds only by quickening his pace further, finally getting to a speed that makes Lauren cry out on each thrust, and he must be getting close because he’s breathing hot and hard against her chest and letting out lustful little moans every so often. Lauren thinks he’ll come first, but then he moves a hand down between them and starts to stroke her clit, hard as his thrusts and double the speed. She gives up on competition at that point.
It doesn’t hit her quite as hard as the first one, but rather creeps up on her, and before she knows it, she’s arching her back and dragging her nails across his, her hips pushing to meet his and electricity running across her skin. She’s left loose-limbed and liquid-brained, barely registering when Richard finally tips over the edge and groans long and loud, his eyebrows pinching together and his spit-slick mouth hanging open as he rides out his orgasm.
For a few moments, they simply lay there, a mess of staggered breaths and tangled limbs, Lauren’s body still trembling with the remnants of her orgasm and Richard’s chest pushing into hers as he pants. Eventually, he lifts his head and pulls her into a lazy kiss, sloppy and sex-drunk but perfect all the same.
The world still seems a little fuzzy round the edges as he rolls off her and collapses into the sheets; her mind usually jumps straight back to work and stress and responsibilities but for now it’s quiet, empty except for the sound of her own breathing twining delicately with Richard’s.
A little while later and they’re under the covers, the cool sheets sliding blissfully over their burning skin as they curl around one another and kiss gently. Lauren secures her arms around Richard’s chest and he pulls her closer, puffing a wisp of her hair out of his face and curling a hand softly around her hip. She should be leaving by now - she should be shoving clothes on and grabbing belongings and hurrying out of the door before the regret shows on her face – but all of that just seems so far away now that’s she’s wrapped up warm in a cosy bed. She’s tired, too, it was a long day even before the sex, she could just rest her eyes for a few minutes, right?
She lets her mind go blank and snuggles closer to Richard, living in the peace of the moment and leaving her future self to deal with the prospect of tomorrow.
Chapter Seven
Richard breathes a sigh of relief into Lauren’s hair when he wakes up to feel her in his arms, still fast asleep. He was so sure and so terrified that she’d come to her senses at some point, that after the sex she’d purse those perfect lips of hers and leave Richard behind as another mistake. But here she is, her head sharin
g Richard’s pillow and her skin illuminated in the pale morning light. He remembers all those college mornings, tucked into a single bed and waiting for the alarm clock to screech them out of their slumber. She’s somehow even more beautiful now.
Speaking of clocks, the one at the far end of the room says proudly 10:30am. Shit. Richard shakes Lauren’s shoulder, praying that she won’t be too angry, that she might just decide to call in sick and spend the day with him. She stirs awake slowly, her eyes fluttering open and her gaze gradually focusing on Richard, who’s still holding her tight.
A blissful smile spreads across her face and she hums a good morning at him, her eyes falling shut again and her hands sliding under the covers to lace with his.
“Uh, Lauren,” he whispers, as if being quieter will somehow reduce the impact of his words, “it’s ten-thirty.”
Her reaction is instant; she tenses in his arms, her eyes flying open, and pushes herself away from him. “What?!” she cries, staring at the clock with panic written all over her face.
“Hey, it’s okay, just, y’know, call in sick or something,” he soothes, stroking a hand down her hip carefully.
She flinches away from his touch, scrambling out of the bed and scooping her clothes from the floor. “No, I can’t!” she bristles, “I’ve got a job to do! Not all of us get paid millions for doing nothing!”
Richard frowns, a shot of irritation running through him. “Hey, I don’t do nothing! I work hard, I –”
“Oh, yeah, yeah,” she tuts, struggling with pulling her dress over her head, “all those free Michelin-starred meals must be such a toil.”
“This is a one-off trip! It’s not like this all the time!” he protests, even though it sort of is. “I worked hard to get here!”
“Oh really? I heard it was mommy that worked hard! What the fuck do you do every day apart from shake hands and lick boots?” she snaps, and Richard sits up, his hands clenched into fists.
“Shut up!” he shouts, “that’s not true! I only wanted you to stay longer because oh, I dunno, I actually like you, but no, you had to twist it into an insult!”
