Sophie -
This key belongs to the W hotel on Lexington Ave. Meet me in the "Wow" suite.
Neil
The "Wow" suite? I resisted the temptation to Google and threw myself into work. I had hoped his instructions would have been a bit more explicit. Some clue as to what kind of night he was expecting, what he wanted to do to me... anything. The fact that he denied me even that small pleasure maddened and distracted me. That was probably the point. Maybe he was under the impression that I was still a naive college student, but I was sure I could find some way to torment him in return.
A wicked idea sprang to my mind, aided by the memory of his voice in my ear, my hands guiding his. There had been a mirror in our hotel room six years ago, and I'd sat on his lap at the edge of the bed, both of us watching as I pushed his fingers in tight circles over my clitoris. My face grew hot as I remembered the sight of his cock stretching me, the sound of my slick flesh moving under his hands as I gasped and wriggled on him.
“Look at how beautiful you are,” he had whispered against my jaw, his gaze meeting mine in the mirror. “Never be timid about your own pleasure. Don’t be ashamed to come.”
That image of my own passion, and the hungry way he'd watched me using his fingers to get myself off, were seared into my mind.
Yeah, I could definitely do something with that.
The workday passed at such a sluggish pace, I thought for sure that time had slowed down specifically to cock block me. I sat through the shoe meeting, where no one actually threw any shoes at Neil, though Rudy looked like he was getting close when they clashed over a Manolo. Rudy loved the stacked heel and red-and-black color scheme. When Neil said it looked like a clown shoe, it seemed like some serious Real Housewives throw down shit was about to start. But in the end, Neil made a point regarding the resemblance to a piece from the previous season, and Rudy had to concede. I think Rudy was as surprised as I was at Neil's familiarity with fashion. Though his company owned a men's fashion magazine, as well, I hadn't realized how hands-on his involvement must have been, for him to fill Gabriella's role at Porteras.
It was strangely easy to sit through the meeting without having sexy thoughts. Well, without too many. I was routinely distracted by the sight of Neil's big hands on the delicate, feminine shoes, turning them this way and that. I thought of him sliding such an item off my foot, his hand skimming up my calf, under my skirt - but I cared more about the magazine than my libido, so I kept that kind of daydreaming to a minimum.
Neil at work was an entirely different creature than I’d expected. He had a good eye for design, but an even better talent for listening as the fashion team presented each piece and explained why they thought it should make the issue. He asked questions, occasionally dictated a note to me, and by the time the meeting was over I realized I didn't have that queasy, on edge feeling in my stomach I used to get when sitting in on these things with Gabriella. Working for her was supposed to have been a learning experience, but it was difficult to learn from someone when you were constantly monitoring your behavior and schooling a blank facial expression because you were terrified of saying or doing something unfavorable.
After the meeting, while Neil was away at lunch, I sent a quick text to Holli: Seeing Neil after work. Will be late. Don't worry.
She replied lightning-fast: Awwwwwww yeah. Get you some!
While I was typing a snarky reply, another text popped up, this one from Jake: Going out with some of A's friends tonight. Single guys, interested?
Oh, Jake. We'd broken office sexual harassment policies time and again by bouncing romantic ideas off each other. When he wanted to know which vibrator his girlfriend, Amanda, would like best, he'd come to me. When I couldn't figure out why my ex-somewhat-steady-sex-partner couldn't get off with me on top, Jake had drawn me all sorts of diagrams on the backs of discarded photo proofs. Sometimes it was awesome having a platonic straight guy friend. Other times, like now, when he was considering asking his girlfriend to move in with him, he could project like, well, a projector. Ever since he'd gotten serious about Amanda, he'd wanted to fix me up with Mr. Right. I was certain he'd already planned our double dates, with just an empty gray "insert Sophie's husband" space where my future spouse could be slotted in. I sighed and dialed his number.
"Jake." He always answered that way, even though I'd pointed out how douchey it sounded.
"Hey, I'm out for tonight. I'm meeting a guy for sex in a hotel room." I added the last bit in the hopes he would take the hint that I wasn’t looking for a Prince Charming right now.
"And for that you'd pass up meeting the guy who could be the guy of your dreams?" He exhaled into the phone speaker in frustration. "Are you sure you're not interested? One of them is a Kennedy."
"Oh yeah, because that's a real incentive.” I snorted. “I've always wanted to die under mysterious circumstances in my thirties."
"It sounds like you're trying to do die under mysterious circumstances in your twenties," Jake scolded. "This guy... he's not a stranger, right? You're not about to be murdered in a hotel room?"
"No, it's someone I trust." Leave it to Jake to turn my love life into an episode of Dexter. Not that I didn't appreciate his concern. I just wished that when people were concerned for me, they gave me credit for having a functioning brain.
"Well, have fun." The resignation in his voice made it clear that he would be looking for my face on the news.
"You too. And if you hear of a grisly murder at the W, feel free to tell my mutilated body, 'I told you so.'"
After we hung up, I made a mental list of what I had to accomplish between the time I got out of work and the time I was supposed to be showing up at the hotel. I texted Holli and asked her to bring by my new black dress with the plunging v-neckline and kimono sleeves. The thing barely covered my ass, it was so short, but since covering my ass wasn't the point, I didn't worry too much.
At six o'clock, I knocked on the door to Neil's office. "It's Sophie."
"Come in," he called, and I was relieved to find him alone inside.
"Is there anything else you needed me for?"
He smiled, but he looked tired, and I got the horrible feeling that didn't bode well for our evening. His sleeves were rolled back, his elbows leaning on glossy photographs spread out over his desk. He checked his watch distractedly. I was almost afraid he would cancel, but when he looked up, his gaze caught mine with heated intensity. "No, I'm sure I can get by, if you have somewhere... interesting to be?"
"I do." I cleared my throat. "And do you have somewhere interesting to be?"
“Oh, I think I’ll find some way to entertain myself.” A slow grin spread across his face.
I smiled and turned for the door, stopping to add, "Then I guess I'll see you in the morning."
"I very much hope so." The prospect seemed to energize him, at least, even if he dropped the pretense of our verbal game. "Go on. I should be there by eight."
I paused, the tip of my tongue pressed against my front teeth as I considered saying anything else. But it was better just to leave it. I took the garment bag Holli had dropped off, pulled on my coat, and headed to the W.
Chapter Six
The W was a classic New York building with bas-relief elephant faces decorating the facade above a modern glass awning. I realized, as I stepped through the door, that it might look a bit suspicious heading into a hotel with just a garment bag and my purse. Fuck it, I thought, feeling giddy and naughty as I strode through the lobby. I'm not here for an extended stay, I'm here for amazing sex.
I refrained from making such a proclamation at the front desk, but only just barely. I stopped a bellman for directions, but I declined his offer to show me to the room. I rode the elevator up and, reaching the door, used my key and stepped into the "Wow" suite.
It was easily larger than my apartment. I wandered through the living room, where long couches framed the floor. A huge installation of acrylic panels, each with an image of glowing golden
sky and abstract black tree branches, covered the subtly grayed white wall perpendicular to the floor-to-ceiling window that provided an astounding view of neighboring sky scrapers. I dropped my garment bag and looked up to the second floor loft, where I presumed the bedroom was.
"Wow."
I wasn’t in the room for two full minutes before there was a polite knock at the door. I opened it to find a uniformed waiter with a silver bucket and a bottle of champagne.
"What's this?" I stepped aside and let him enter the room. He took the champagne to the wet bar. The bottle he set on the marble countertop had a long neck of green glass, and matte silver foil over the cork. I glanced at the label. Krug Clos du Mesnil. 1995.
The waiter smiled as he unwrapped the foil. "Mr. Elwood requested that it be sent up upon your arrival."
He’d had someone on look out for me? Sneaky man.
"Is it good?" I knew nothing about champagne. I was more of a red wine girl.
The waiter's eyebrows lifted and he chuckled. "Oh, it's very good."
After the waiter departed - declining gratuity because, "It's been taken care of," - I wandered the suite with a glass in hand. The room’s decor straddled the line between modern and comfortable; nothing too pretentious, nothing absurd for the sake of design. I went up to the loft, where I found a bathroom with a European-style shower and, to my surprise, a black leather shaving kit and some cologne and shampoo in commercial sized bottles. Those weren’t standard hotel toiletries.
Was Neil staying here? I went to the bedroom and peeked in a drawer. There were some neatly folded clothes inside, and I quickly shut it. I didn't want to snoop. Clearly, he'd been staying for some time.
I checked the clock. It was quarter to seven. My stomach knotted with excitement. I had just a little over an hour before Neil would arrive, and I intended to seduce him from the moment he stepped through the door.
I showered carefully, so I wouldn't get my hair wet, then dried myself and rubbed some of the divine smelling hotel lotion into my skin. I frowned at my hair in the mirror. I’d worn a tousled up-do all day, but it was work hair.
To my unbelievable good luck, when I pulled out the pins my hair let down into waves I couldn't have possibly achieved with a curling iron and infinite patience. If there were a patron saint of sexy hair, I would be lighting candles to her, for sure.
I touched up my makeup, thickening my eyeliner just a bit and swapping my nude lip color for a dark berry gloss I’d found in the bottom of my purse. I dressed, neatened up the bathroom, then hurried downstairs.
Standing before the mirror in the living area, I tugged down the hem of the short dress that clung to my body like a glove. The wide sleeves fluttered from my elbows as I reached up to fluff my hair one last time. I thought back to what I'd looked like that day at the airport six years ago. This was a definite improvement to greasy teenager skin and bad highlights in a tee-shirt and jeans.
I found an iPod plugged into a stereo dock, and I took the liberty of scrolling through the albums. I was pleasantly surprised to find some genuinely cool choices - Peter Gabriel, Florence + The Machine, Damien Rice - and ultimately I selected some TV on the Radio. A slow, moody song filled the entire suite from built-in speakers.
After some searching, I’d found the switch to lower the shade over the huge window. There was a dimmer switch in the main living area, so I turned down the lights, then arranged myself on the wide white couch. I wriggled my skirt up a bit and spread my legs, my attention fixed on the door.
I couldn't believe I was doing this. I couldn't believe it was actually happening, after six years. After I had given up hope of ever having a sexual experience as satisfying as my night with Leif. Every muscle in my body tensed with anticipation. My breath caught in my chest as my fingers ventured down, under the black lace of my panties. I thought back to my white cotton underpants that night at the Crowne Plaza, and I giggled to myself. If anyone had told me back then that I'd be sex ambushing the man six years later, I wouldn't have believed I would have the nerve.
I closed my eyes and stroked two fingers down my slit. My hips lifted. I'd been so eager for this moment, now it seemed like my skin was too sensitive to touch. I thought of what Neil would see when he walked in, and remembered the undisguised appreciation in his eyes while he'd watched our hands on my body.
My stomach fluttered with nervous butterflies. What if he was expecting the girl from six years ago, who'd only had sex with fumbling teenage boys? What if he got here and was turned off by my initiative? After all, he'd found my naiveté so endearing the last time we were together.
Oh shut up, I scolded myself. Would you really want to fuck a guy who only wanted you for your sexual inexperience? No, because that would be weird.
I’d made a salient point, I had to concede.
My fingertips circled my clit, and a shaky breath stuttered across my lips. My flesh felt hot and heavy under my hand, and I cupped myself, letting my fingers slip between the folds of my sex.
The door clicked open, and the weight of my desire became like an electric current. My lungs seized, my limbs quivered. I opened my eyes, a soft groan escaping me when I saw Neil there. He closed the door and dropped his messenger bag. His gaze met mine and held it as he walked toward me in his long black coat and leather gloves. I don't know how I managed to maintain eye contact, but I did, and I had never felt so sexy in my entire life. Why had I ever doubted that this would please him?
His maddeningly neutral expression gave nothing away, but he couldn’t disguise the hunger in his eyes. Oh, he wanted me. He stood over me, looking down as I continued to move my hand beneath my panties.
"Take those off." His voice was soft and deep, the tone firm. I was being commanded, not asked. A perverse thrill shot through me, and I shivered.
His eyes followed my hands as I slowly peeled the scrap of black lace down my thighs. He stepped closer and ran one gloved hand up my calf, raising goose bumps on my skin. I moaned at the cool touch of the leather, and he grasped my panties, jerking them down the rest of the way. I slipped my feet from them and watched him lift the lace to his nose.
"Oh god." My exclamation tore out on a ragged breath, and I pressed my thighs together against the pounding ache in my cunt. I wanted him so badly I trembled, but I was afraid of what would happen when we actually touched. The longing, the desperate, clawing sexual need that had been missing from every encounter I'd had in the intervening six years crashed over me, turned my blood into liquid desire coursing to every throbbing cell in my body.
"Don't stop," he said, removing his gloves slowly, tugging one fingertip at a time. I spread my legs a little, and he ordered, "Wider."
I heard my pulse in my ears as I parted my thighs further. Neil took off his coat and tossed it across the ottoman, on top of the gloves he'd already discarded. He moved to stand between my spread legs, looking down at me with his hands in his pockets. He was hard, his cock a visible ridge against his fly beneath his unbuttoned jacket.
I stroked myself, letting my fingers wander further, to dip inside before tracing upward again, coated in the evidence of my overwhelming desire. I smoothed the silky wetness over my clitoris, into the short, neatly trimmed strip of hair on my mound.
Wordlessly, Neil watched me rub my clit in slow circles. Being like this for him, my legs open, my pussy exposed and gleaming wet while he stood there fully dressed, turned the naughty factor up to eleven and then some. Just thinking about what I was doing spiked my arousal higher. I had done things with him that I'd never done with anyone else, and that knowledge made me feel oddly safe.
My thighs tensed, and I planted my black pumps firmly against the rug. My orgasm wound tight inside me, ready to spring and uncoil me from the inside out. A yelped, "Ah!" of frustration escaped me, and I lifted my hips from the sofa. I was going to come, I was so close, I was going to come while he watched me, without him ever touching me, and I was so goddamn close -
"Stop."
The wor
d was confusing in the context of the moment, and that was enough to shock me into actually stopping. My internal muscles clenched painfully, reaching for the climax that had been suddenly denied.
"What?" I panted, gripping the hem of my dress to physically restrain myself from relieving the ache.
"Come here." He held out his hand to me, and unthinking I offered him the one that had just been busy between my legs. He pulled me to my feet and braced my swaying body against him with a palm at my lower back. Being so close to him made me dizzy; his faintly spicy cologne filled my head, and my skin became hyper aware of his body heat, even through our clothes.
With his other hand, he brought my still damp fingers to his mouth and sucked them between his lips. I gasped at the touch of his tongue against my fingertips as he tasted me, and he released them with a small, strangely serious smile.
I rose on my tiptoes, my hand sliding around his neck and into his hair to tug his mouth down to mine. His groan was muffled by our kiss, but the hungry sound went bone deep, vibrating off my every nerve ending. He swayed with me to the low, insistent beat of the music. My thighs stuck together with the wetness that had smeared between them. My body wept for his touch, for his cock, for fulfillment.
His tongue stroked against mine, while one hand slid down my arm to lace our fingers together. He broke our mouths apart, dropping kisses along my jaw on a path toward my ear. He traced the edge of my earlobe, and I shivered in his arms.
"I have fantasized about this every day for the past six years," he whispered, the ragged edge of need apparent in his voice. I almost sobbed in relief to hear those words. It wasn't just me, then. There had been something incredible between us, and clearly there still was. I hadn't been crazy, looking for this kind of passion. It did exist.
He held me tight, his arm locked behind my back, holding me on my feet as he nibbled the shell of my ear. The prickly, over-sensitive feeling made me gasp. I leaned heavily against him, my breath speeding up, my muscles tensing as he laved over and over the same, extremely erogenous spot. It was like being tickled, but the feeling shot straight to my groin, and he didn’t let up even as I writhed away from his mouth. I squeezed my legs together, my toes curled in my shoes, and I only realized what was happening when my cunt spasmed with a flood of wetness and grateful relief poured through my muscles. It wasn't the most mind-blowing, intense orgasm I'd ever had, but it did take the edge off my painful need, and he had managed to do it just by kissing my ear.
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