Czech Mate

by Sloane Taylor

  “Vic, it’s time to make you happy.” Lacey took his hand and led him into the bedroom. Once there, she flipped on another bedside lamp. “Women are visual, too.”

  He stood silently while she removed the onyx studs from his cuffs and shirt. She yanked the material free from his waistband, then shoved it off his shoulders. She traced her fingernail along his chest and through the crisp hairs to his peaked dark nipples. She lapped one of the rigid circles while her fingertips grazed along the other.

  His pupils dilated and his nostrils flared, and she loved the sexual power she held. Holding onto his belt loops, she dropped to her knees.

  Settling her butt on her calves, she inched down his zipper, hungry for what lay behind the fine fabric. His cock sprang free, a magnificent rigid organ she craved in her mouth. She glided a finger along the distended vein, up to the sensitive area around the crown, then dipped her head and licked a drop of pre-come from the slit.

  He wove his fingers into her hair, and the pins sprang free. The curls cascaded down and hid her face. Lacey scooped her hair back with one hand while the other moved up and down his shaft in slow motion.

  His hooded eyes smoldered. His skin was drawn taut across his broad cheekbones.

  “Lacey, you must stop.” He cupped her face in his trembling hands.

  Reluctantly she withdrew her mouth but continued to stroke the silken skin. “But I thought—”

  “I want to be inside you.” His words were hoarse as he gasped for air. “Pleasuring you is most important to me.”

  She swallowed hard. His words held an importance she refused to allow herself to believe.

  He pulled her up by the wrists and held her close. His heart pounded in her ear. He sprinkled gentle kisses across the top of her head while stroking his finger down her cheek and throat to her shoulder.

  “Lie on the bed, Lacey,” he whispered into her hair while he rubbed along her spine.

  The mattress gave way as she scooted toward the center. He stripped away the few remaining garments. She reached out to touch him, missing the intimate contact of his warm skin. His muscles rippled beneath her fingertips as she trailed down to his firm ass.

  Not soon enough he joined her on the bed and tucked his thick cock against her thigh. He kissed her fierce and long while his hand kneaded her breast and created a maelstrom of passion between her thighs.

  “Vic, please, I want you.” She coaxed him to mount her by tugging at his waist, his ass, anywhere her hands could reach.

  He shook his head as he cupped her breast and sucked the stiff nipple into his mouth. He tongued the sensitive peak until her body could no longer survive without him pounding inside her.

  Unbearable pressure built between her legs, and tears welled in her eyes. “God, please. I need you now.”

  His nostrils flared as he spread her thighs and anchored them over his shoulders, then nestled himself between her weak limbs. In one fluid movement he entered her, and absolute bliss filled her soul.

  Of their own volition, her hips thrust upward, encouraging him to move. He bore down and his tight balls slapped against her perineum as he rode her. A sheen of perspiration covered his forehead and shoulders. She stretched upward until she was able to lick the salty sweat from his taut shoulders. He rocketed into her faster. She fell back onto the pillows and clutched at the sheets.

  He reared back, his body stiff, his hands latched onto her hips, holding them secure. With a guttural moan and one last thrust, he convulsed and shot hot come deep inside her.

  Joy whipped through her, freeing her heart and soul. She pressed her head into the pillow and dug her fingernails into his back muscles as a wonderful tide of release flooded from her.

  Words she couldn’t understand showered over her in between his tender kisses. He cuddled her close and pressed his cock against her back. Soon his ragged breathing turned to soft snores.

  Lacey drew up the duvet to hold dear the newfound feeling of peace.

  Chapter Nine

  The days passed in a whirlwind of unbelievable sex, equally stimulating conversation, and the great fun of redecorating Vic’s suite. The surprised look on his face when he returned each evening made her heart zing. Especially the night she had uncovered the treasures of his youth from deep in the hotel basement. Vic took pleasure in telling her the story attached to each knickknack and photo. Lacey did an excellent job of lambasting him when she found his mother’s beautiful sapphire wedding ring in one of the wooden crates. The only thing that stopped her tirade was his dipped head and scarlet cheeks. She was mollified when he had the good fortune to be suitably ashamed. All the enhancements were possible because of that darling Tomas who had pointed out the containers while he helped her cart furniture and accessories out of storage. She would miss Vic and the few hotel people who had been so kind.

  Only one more day left until she returned home to start her new career. Sadness enveloped her like an unwanted shroud as she maneuvered through the horde of people browsing the cramped stalls in the Old Town square. Even though she came from Chicago with its multitude of diverse neighborhoods, she’d never seen anything like this. She looked out over the sea of black and gray overcoats, amazed at the quiet with so many people milling about. Only an occasional laugh interrupted the uncanny silence of the early afternoon.

  Sunlight reflected through the prisms of the brilliant crystal pieces, which ranged from dainty ashtrays to cleverly carved statues that filled table after vendor table in the vast cobblestone area.

  The need to touch the delicate artwork urged her fingers forward. One look at the stern expression on the craggy-faced old man forced her to step back. Definitely intimidated she bobbed her head and was ready to move on. A wide grin spread his lips, exposing a few yellow teeth and gray gums. He gestured toward a slender figurine and mumbled something in Czech.

  “He wants you to touch.” An older woman with a bright red scarf wrapped in a loose knot around her neck bent forward and lifted the delicate image of a child in his mother’s arms. Her blue-black hair glistened in the sun as the thick strands swayed. Lacey couldn’t help but think of raven wings fluttering for takeoff.

  “Are you sure?” She was surprised at the weight when the other woman handed the piece over.

  “Most definitely.” A smile lit her face. “He is wanting you will buy it.”

  Lacey stroked a finger along the sleek lines and turned the crystal to see all the angles. The exact location to show off the exquisite work to perfection shot into her mind’s eye. “Will you please ask him the cost?”

  “In which currency?” The smile fell from her face. “He will not accept a credit card.”

  Sending up a silent prayer she still had enough dollars since her few koruna had been spent. “U.S. dollars, please.”

  The lady nodded and entered into an exchange of rapid Czech with the beaming old man. She turned back to Lacey, her black eyes twinkling. “He realizes how much you appreciate the craftsmanship and wants you to know this work was made here in the Czech Republic, not like so many others for sale in the square that come from China.”

  Shit.

  “And the cost?” Disappointment filled her heart. The beautiful crystal was surely beyond her means.

  They both turned to the old man, and the woman did an odd hand gesture. He pursed his lips and glanced at Lacey. After what seemed like a lifetime, he bobbed his head and flashed all ten fingers twice.

  “This is unheard of from a grizzled vendor.” The lady shook her head, and all that beautiful hair grazed her shoulders. “It appears my father likes you. He wishes you to have the figure for a small price.” A concerned expression creased her flawless skin. “Will twenty dollars fit your wallet?”

  Awed at her good fortune, Lacy nodded and passed the prized sculpture back to the nice old chap. She riffled through her purs
e for the exact bills. A pang of guilt stabbed her, and she pulled out another ten, aware the amount was still short of the true value.

  While he wrapped the piece in layers of colorful paper, the woman held out her slender hand. “I am Honza. It is Czech for ‘Gift from God.’” She laughed and shook a finger at her father. “It is also a boy’s name. Papa decided his first born would be named Honza no matter what.”

  “Hi, I’m Lacey and have no idea how I got my name.” They shook hands and Lacey was surprised at the firm clasp.

  “You please join me for a coffee?” Honza took the package from her father, then handed it to Lacey.

  “I’d like that.” Lacey was drawn to this stranger and was grateful she still had enough money to treat her to warm drinks.

  She tucked the plastic bag with her prized purchase in the crook of her arm as they headed across the square to an outdoor café. A blond waiter beckoned to them, inviting them to sit under the heat lamps. Honza rattled off their order, and the server scurried into the restaurant.

  Chimes sang out and Lacey glanced up, intrigued by the intricate design and workings of diverse wheels and chains on the face of an old building.

  “You like that?” Honza nodded toward the unique display. “That is our Old Town Hall. If you have time, you should tour the inside. The building is very beautiful.”

  “No time this trip.” The sadness returned, but Lacey refused to allow it to cloud the moment. “What is that strange clock on the front?”

  “Aah, the Orloj. You would say horologe in English.”

  Lacey nodded as if that had made perfect sense, which it didn’t. Honza giggled.

  “I see I am not clear. This is an astronomical clock assembled in the fifteenth century. There is a sad yet interesting history to the timepiece. Some speculate a very cruel and jealous king had the original maker’s eyes gouged out in order to prevent him from creating a similar clock for another country. I do not know if the rumor is true, but it does make a good story.”

  Lacey laughed as the waiter returned with their cappuccinos.

  “You are at Hotel Monaco.” Honza added heaping spoonfuls of sugar to her drink while she stared across the small wrought iron table.

  Lacey furrowed her brow. How did this stranger know? A light laugh broke her thought.

  “It is no problem when I see their name on the matchbook in your handbag.” Her eyes twinkled as if she held all the secrets of the world close to her heart. “The owner is an intriguing man, is he not?”

  “Yes, I suppose so.” Their odd conversation had eeriness to it, yet Lacey was completely at ease, almost mesmerized. She sipped her coffee and was intrigued to hear more.

  “For some people we meet in our lives there is a reason.” Honza munched on a sugar cookie. “Do you not agree?”

  “I guess so.” Lacey shrugged. “At least that held true with meeting you. Thank you again for helping me.” She ran her hand over her package and was eager to see Vic’s reaction when she handed it to him.

  “Do not worry. He will be most pleased you thought so much of him to buy a reminiscence of his youth.”

  “Honza, how do you know all this stuff? Are you psychic?” She laughed at the silly notion.

  Her face lit up. “You are a perceptive woman. I am sometimes, with specific people.”

  Lacey coughed as the hot drink chugged down her windpipe.

  “Do not worry.” Honza munched the last of her sweet and swallowed. “I have no black cat to put in your path or talisman to hang around your lovely neck.”

  “Of course I wouldn’t think such a thing.” She hoped the blatant lie worked and her voice didn’t give away the sliver of apprehension slicing through her. Yet the conversation intrigued her. “So, Honza, why did you decide to hook up with me?”

  “It was not a conscious act.” She squinted and watched Lacey for a moment, as if judging how far she should go. “I saw you and knew you wanted the figurine. When our fingertips brushed, many images came into my mind. I knew we must speak.”

  Lacey never believed hocus-pocus, voodoo, or things that went bang in the night held validity. They were silly old wives’ tales to scare children so they behaved. But a niggle of belief wormed its way to her brain as she stared into the older woman’s dark eyes.

  “You have traveled a hard journey in your young life.” Honza stopped when the waiter approached to clear away the empty cups. “Your life will be easier now if you will allow yourself to trust this earnest happiness surrounding you.”

  “Sure, I’m having a great time here on vacation.” Time to ratchet this down a notch. “Who wouldn’t in this beautiful city?”

  The waiter returned with their bill and thankfully interrupted them. Lacey laid a wad of dollars over the narrow strip of paper and glanced up. A wide grin spread his lips as he nodded and bowed.

  “No, my child, there is more, but you refuse to open your heart to my words.” Honza reached across the table and gathered Lacey’s cold hands in her warm ones and squeezed tight. “You will have a long trip soon, but your fate is here in Prague. I know you will return because you are an intelligent woman who will not waste her future.”

  Chapter Ten

  Tomas refused to turn around as some bovine bellowed and repeatedly hammered on his desk bell, disrupting the entire lobby. Cultured people tapped the pin once. Gently.

  “Hey, hey, you there in the undertaker suit.”

  The high-pitched wheeze made a grown man shiver.

  “Are you referring to me, sir?” Tomas looked over the top of his eyeglasses at the crass American who dared to disturb him while he sorted the hotel mail and almost choked when the blonde Teutonic giantess stepped closer to the desk. “What may I do for you, sir?”

  Ignoring Tomas, the man turned to the woman and slithered his arm around her. She jumped and squealed like a snared boar.

  “Hey, don’t worry, baby. You’re gonna love this.” He patted her rather large rear end. “And I can’t wait to watch.”

  Her over-made orange mouth formed into a pout. “Hilda is not positive she will want to share you, my robust Herr Claymore.”

  Tomas shook his head and was disgusted by the latest clientele drawn to his beloved hotel. His brow furrowed. Claymore. The name had a distinct familiarity, yet he could not force his mind to recall where he had heard it before.

  “You just leave everything to ol’ Brad.” The short man puffed out his chest. “I know what’s best for all my girls.”

  The heavy potato sausage and fried sauerkraut Tomas had eaten for lunch backed up his throat. He stared at the small man in the bright red jacket with his face buried in the garish female’s abundant cleavage. This is the boor Lacey planned to share the week with? A wave of shame washed over him at how he had once thought her nothing better than a prostitute. Now he pitied her for her poor choice in men.

  “Gimme Lacey Blake’s room number.” Claymore sucked on a cheap cigar and squinted his beady eyes, then blew thick smoke across the counter. “And make it fast. She’s expecting us.”

  Tomas waved away the vile stench as a whirlwind of ideas on how to remove these people from the hotel before she returned exploded in his mind.

  “We have no one by that name at this hotel.” Tomas flicked a fallen ash from his no longer pristine black marble. “Perhaps you have mistaken the property.”

  “Don’t gimme any of that, buddy. I made the reservation and bought the broad the airline ticket. She can’t be anywhere but here.” He took another puff on the foul-smelling cheroot. “Now walk your pinkies over those keys and look her up.”

  “Let us leave, Liebschen,” Hilda whined in a heavy German accent. “I do not like this place.”

  “Yeah, well, you just hang tight, baby. Our stiff buddy here is gonna make this all be okay.” With one hand, he hooked
the cigar at Tomas, while his other slid under the Hun’s short leather skirt. “And if I can’t get this clown to cooperate, then there’s always the manager to roust his lazy ass.”

  “Ooh, Liebling, I like that.” She giggled and wrapped her arms around Claymore’s neck.

  “Ha, you’ll like fingers even better when Lacey uses hers on you. She’s the best, goes along with whatever I want. Trust me.” He shoved the woman away and laid both arms across the counter. Gray smoke curled around his unshaven face. “Now have I made my point, pal, or do we need a honcho to take you in hand?”

  Heat blazed up Tomas’ neck.

  “I do not know what more we can provide for you. This person is not a paying guest at our hotel.” At least he told the almost truth. Lacey was a guest, just not paying with money.

  Whack.

  Claymore’s fat little hand slammed onto the desktop. The silver bell bounced to the floor.

  “I wanna speak to the manager. Right now.”

  “I do not think Mr. Petrovič is in the hotel at the moment, but perhaps you would like to wait in the lounge while I check.” Tomas glanced to the front door and groaned.

  “Good afternoon, Tomas. Has the mail arrived?” Dragan wrinkled his nose at the foul odor and nodded toward the strange couple.

  “Hey, it’s Lurch.” The small man laughed as he tipped his head dangerously back to look up. “Where’s the rest of the Addams family?”

  The woman inched away from the oaf and smoothed a hand over her rumpled clothes. In a quick movement, she sidestepped closer to Dragan who edged around to the end of the desk.

  “Hey, big guy, you the boss here?”

  “I am the owner.” Kristus, I hope you do not intend to book in. “Is there something we may help you with?”

  “Yeah. First, I want this idiot raked over the coals for being useless, then I want you to tell Lacey Blake that Brad Claymore’s here and to hustle her sweet ass. We got stuff to do.” He dropped his half-chewed cigar onto the marble floor and crushed it under his scuffed brogan.