by Suzie Nelson
Taking me by the hips again, James draws himself out almost entirely, just his tip balancing in my entrance. Then, impossibly slowly, he sheaths himself again. The feeling of his ridge sliding along my hyper sensitive walls makes me weak in the knees. I press my hands firmly against the wall, trying to keep from screaming as he repeats the process.
Then, just when I’m about to dissolve completely, he drives his cock home fast and hard. I guess it must feel just as amazing on his end because all of a sudden, he’s thrusting frantically, his cock pounding into my willing pussy. Soon I’m screaming again and he’s fucking me so hard that spots of light appear in front of my eyes. My whole body feels like it’s going to explode and I claw at the wall as, finally, my orgasm erupts deep inside of me. Pleasure floods through me as my pussy clamps down on James and I shake with uncontrollable ecstasy. Dimly I’m aware of him grabbing my breasts and burying himself in me, his own climax arriving seconds after mine.
For a moment we just stay there, gasping and shivering with the aftermath of our orgasms. James leans against me, his head resting on my shoulder. Slowly, he raises himself up, kissing my back tenderly as he does.
“Holy shit,” I say, still a little breathless.
“Yeah,” he replies, also still gasping for air. Gently, he draws me away from the wall, bringing me with him as he sits back on his haunches. I lean my head back, resting it on his collar bone, enjoying the feel of his arms around me.
He kisses my neck. “You know,” he says softly. “I came to New York because of you.”
“What?” My orgasm-addled mind is having trouble following.
“I heard through some old friends that you were still in New York and I decided that maybe after all these years you’d have forgiven me and would give me another chance. So I packed up my stuff and moved. I had all these elaborate plans for how I’d get back in touch. I never thought I’d just end up running into you in the mall one day by accident.”
I feel my heart swell to bursting at the idea of him loving me so much that he’d move here. “There’s nothing to forgive, James,” I tell him. “I’m the one who was in the wrong.”
“Then let’s forgive each other and put it all behind us,” he says.
“Please,” I smile up at him. “Because, I have to say, this has probably been my best Christmas ever.”
I can feel his laughter against my back. “Well, it could be Christmas every day if you’d like.” His eyes meet mine. “Stay with me, Amber,” he says.
“There’s nothing I’d like more,” I reply and reach up to kiss him.
I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t go home to Portland after all.
THE END
Playing With Fire
Chapter 1
Avery rested her hands on her hips and smiled to herself. She was just starting her morning shift at the Crosby Street Hotel and she was feeling good about it. Morning shifts were her favorite because, before she went down to the lobby to start dealing with the guests, she always came up to the hotel’s rooftop terrace restaurant for a coffee. The view was amazing. She loved looking out over New York City, finding all the iconic buildings as she watched the sun coming up over the skyline. It reflected in all the windows, turning the city into one giant, glittering mirror. Avery loved it.
But the sun had broken the skyline and she’d finished her coffee, which meant it was time to go back downstairs and get to work. With a sigh, Avery picked up her cup and took it back to the kitchen dish pit, waving at Johnny, the hotel’s chatty chef.
“You know, we have waiters for that,” Johnny called from where he was beating house-made hollandaise sauce. He nodded towards her dirty coffee cup.
“Let them save their energy for the paying customers!” Avery replied with a smile. With one last wave, she disappeared down the back stairs, taking the delivery elevator down to the ground floor.
The lobby was bright and clean and already humming with activity, just the way she liked it. Avery was one of Crosby Street’s top concierges. She’d been working there ever since she finished her degree in tourism. Of course, she’d started out as a part-time receptionist, but her talents had quickly moved her up the ladder. She loved her job. She loved the hotel, with its beautiful rooms, pretty courtyard, and, most importantly, its view. She loved the staff, they all took care of each other and looked out for one another. She even loved their guests – for the most part.
Crosby Street was an upscale boutique hotel right next to the famed Museum of Modern Art so it had its fair share of bossy, whiny, spoiled celebrity guests. But, for the most part, their clientele was lovely. And Avery had always been good at smoothing down any ruffled feathers. She didn’t mind telling a few white lies about someone’s ugly coat and terrible updo if it kept her guests happy.
“Good morning, Avery!” Janice, the woman working the front desk smiled as Avery crossed the lobby. “Is that a new skirt?”
Avery looked down at her sleek black and gray pin-striped pencil skirt. “Yes,” she grinned. “Do you like it?”
“Definitely,” said Janice. “Makes you look amazing. Like sexy librarian taken to the next level.”
Avery giggled. “Thanks, Janice.”
Selena, Avery’s friend and another concierge, appeared out of the back room, her coat over one arm. She’d been working the night shift and was dying to get home. Her glossy blond curls fell in a wave over one shoulder and she raised a well-groomed eyebrow. “Don’t you think it’s a bit short for work, though?” she asked.
Avery frowned, looking back down at her skirt. “Do you think so? I mean, it’s form-fitting, but I thought it was long enough.”
“Well, as long as you’re comfortable, sweetheart. That’s the main thing,” Selena smiled, her baby blue eyes crinkling in the corner. Coming forward, she gave Avery an air kiss on both cheeks. “So good to see you, darling. I’m absolutely dying to go to bed. But let’s have drinks soon, okay? I feel like we haven’t hung out in years.”
“For sure,” said Avery, smiling. “Just let me know when.”
“I’ll check my schedule,” said Selena, squeezing Avery’s arm. “Have a good shift!”
And with that, she swept out of the hotel in a wave of rose-scented perfume, looking more like one of their rich clients than a member of staff.
Discreetly, Janice rolled her eyes. “Your skirt is definitely not too short, Avery,” she said.
Avery worried her lip. “Do you think so? I dunno. Selena’s just so much better with clothes than I am.”
“It’s perfect. You look amazing and totally work appropriate. It’s not your fault you have legs the length of Manhattan, you lucky jerk.”
Avery laughed. “I hope you’re right. I don’t want to make any waves just at the moment.”
Janice rolled her eyes again. “You never make waves, Avery. You’re the opposite of a wave-maker. And don’t worry. When Meghan retires next month, you’re totally going to get the job. It’ll be Avery Montague, Head Concierge then. Who else would they give it to? You’re perfect for it. Everyone knows you’re amazing at your job.”
Avery chuckled. “You’re just trying to butter me up so I’ll give you Fridays off once I’m in charge of scheduling.”
Janice put a hand to her heart. “Whaaaaat? Me? Do that? Never!” The two women grinned at each other and then burst into quiet giggles. There was a group of German businessmen reading the paper in the soft seats of the lobby and Avery and Janice knew better than to disturb them.
But they were still grinning when a smartly-dressed man in his early thirties walked in. Even without the perfectly tailored gray suit, he would have caught anyone’s eye. He was at least an inch or two over six feet, with an athletic build, and thick, dark hair. His skin was tanned and it made his piercing blue eyes all the more striking. Avery bit her lip and tried not to stare.
Behind him came another man, bulkier, with a shaved head, wearing a dark suit and a Bluetooth in one ear. The women at the front desk glanced at eac
h other. It was all that common at Crosby Street, but they had seen enough bodyguards to recognize one when they saw one.
Avery raised her eyebrows, bending over Janice to take a look at that day’s reservations. Silently, Janice tapped one name: Deacon Wolfe. He had booked their two most expensive rooms on the top floor. His name rang a bell, but Avery wasn’t sure where she knew it from. Whoever he was, she could tell from across the lobby that he had money. That bespoke Brioni suit and the dour-looking bodyguard certainly wouldn’t have come cheap.
“Good morning,” Janice smiled. “Welcome to the Crosby Street Hotel. How can I help you today, sir?”
“I’ve got a reservation,” said the man, his chiseled face breaking into a warm smile. “Wolfe. Deacon Wolfe.” His gaze moved from Janice to Avery and Avery felt her stomach do flip flops as his eyes slid quickly down her body. He looked up, meeting her eye. His smile grew fractionally and Avery could feel desire blow through her like an adrenalin shot to the heart. She swallowed.
Janice nodded. “Yes, you’re on the top floor. Excellent choice. Do you have any bags?”
“They’ll be delivered shortly,” said Wolfe.
“Excellent,” said Janice. “We’ll have them brought straight up. This is our concierge, Avery. I’ll let her show you up to your room.”
Deacon nodded, his eyes briefly flicking back to Avery. “Sounds great.”
Janice handed Avery the key cards and Avery finally allowed herself to smile at the handsome man. “If you’ll just follow me,” she said, leading them to the elevator.
Deacon gave her a smile that made her feel lightheaded and nodded. “I’m all yours,” he said.
I wish, thought Avery.But the hotel had very strict policies when it came to fraternization between the staff and the guests. And Avery was a professional. She wasn’t about to run around after some guest, as sexy as he might be. Especially not this close to a promotion.
“On the roof, we have a terrace bar and restaurant, which is where we serve breakfast. Though, if you prefer, they also do a magnificent brunch. Some of the best French toast in the city, you have my personal guarantee.”
“Are you a French toast connoisseur?” Deacon asked, a sparkle in his eye.
Avery chuckled and nodded. “Well, actually, since you asked, yes, I am. I’ve been refining my tastes since I was three years old.”
“A true gourmet,” Deacon laughed. “That’s dedication to your craft.”
“Oh, yes,” Avery smiled, playing along. “I’ve suffered for my passion.”
The elevator dinged and opened onto the top floor.
“So, your rooms are just here at the end of the hall,” Avery said, leading them to the doors and letting them into the luxurious rooms. The tall windows let in the morning light, making the pale decorating look bright and inviting. For just a second, Avery let herself imagine Deacon laying her down on the large white bed. It was a nice dream. “Downstairs we have a 24-hour gym and on the first floor past the lobby, there’s a lovely, cozy drawing room with a fireplace, not that it’s really the season for that. On Sundays, we show films in our private theater. This week is Casablanca, if you’re interested. You’re here until Tuesday, aren’t you?”
“I am,” said Deacon. “And I love Casablanca.”
“Who doesn’t?” Avery smiled. “It’s a classic. Now, if you have any other questions, just give us a call at the front desk. We’re here around the clock.”
“Surely you’re not, though,” Deacon asked.
Avery shook her head and laughed lightly. “I love my job, Mr. Wolfe, but even I need to sleep. I’ll be here until seven tonight, and then you’ll be in the capable hands of Selena.”
Deacon gave her a slow, seductive half-smile and Avery felt an answering tingle from under her new pinstriped skirt. “Until seven? I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for your help, Avery.”
Avery had to admit that it stroked her ego a little that he’d remembered her name. “My pleasure,” she replied, handing him the key cards. “I hope you enjoy your stay.”
“Oh,” Wolfe replied, his thumb brushing her fingers as he took the cards, “I’m sure I will.”
Avery took the stairs back down to the lobby, hoping the exercise would take her mind off that dizzying half-smile. They had had lots of beautiful people stay in the hotel but it wasn’t often that one affected her so much – or was so obviously as interested in her as she was in him.
Right before going back out to the front desk, Avery slipped into the staff bathroom to make sure her outfit wasn’t somehow betraying her and her burgeoning lust. She looked at herself in the mirror, unnecessarily smoothing down her crisp black top and the front of her skirt, and took a deep breath. The woman in the mirror smiled back at her. She was tall and slender, with a delicate neck and a thin face, whose best feature, in Avery’s opinion, was the large, thick-lashed brown eyes, framed by long, dark eyebrows. Even as a teenager, when she’d anguished over her thin body and ramrod straight chestnut hair, Avery had always loved her eyes.
But, while she had come to love her athletic frame and distinct features, guests tended to prefer Selena’s showy blonde, busty beauty to Avery’s more understated charms. Not that Avery minded. She wasn’t really the type to flirt and bat her eyelashes at the guests. But there’s something about Deacon that made her feel both relaxed and turned on at the same time. Avery blew out her cheeks and left the bathroom. She’d have to watch herself.
“There you are!” Janice smiled. “He certainly took a shine to you, didn’t he?”
Avery fought to keep herself from blushing. Had it been that obvious? “Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “I think he might be the kind that just likes to flirt.” Which, to be fair, might very well be true.
But Janice wasn’t buying it. “Uh huh,” she said, raising an eloquent eyebrow. “Well, whatever the reason, you could do a heck of a lot worse. You do know who he is, right?”
Avery made a face. “I know his name from somewhere, but, honestly, I have no idea.”
“God, girl, do you literally live under a rock?” Janice shook her head, grinning.
“Maybe a little,” Avery smiled. “Tell me who he is.”
“He’s the son of Howard Wolfe, who owns that huge chain of luxury hotels in Asia.” Janice raised her eyebrows, waiting for the penny to land.
“Oh my God, you mean he’s one of the Wolfes? Like, the Wolfes who are in middle of buying us?” Avery gaped down at the other woman.
“Yep. He’s one of those Wolfes. Plus, he’s only, like, the most eligible bachelor in New York. He’s only thirty and he runs his father’s Hong Kong and Singapore branches. Word is they’re opening a new one in Indonesia next year. He must be in town for the deal.”
“Oh God,” said Avery. “I didn’t put two and two together. I had no idea! How could I be such an idiot?”
Janice shrugged. “It is only 7:30 in the morning. Plus he seems pretty down to earth for a multi-millionaire. He probably appreciated the fact that you didn’t start sucking up to him just because he’s the new owner’s son.”
“On the other hand, it’s more likely that he’s a spoiled brat and is totally offended by the fact that I didn’t do exactly that!” Avery put her head in her hands.
“Nah,” said Janice. “He had the hots for you. I seriously don’t think he minded.”
Avery peeked out from between her fingers. “You really think so?” she asked miserably.
“I really think so,” Janice replied. “Chill, boss. You look like amazing in that skirt. Harness that power.”
Avery let her hands fall. “Oh well, if nothing else, tonight he’ll meet Selena and she’ll give him all the attention he could want. She so much better with men than I am.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Janice replied, “but she certainly has a gift for showing her tits in their faces.”
“Janice!” Avery frowned. “She’s not like that. She’s just good at flirting, that’s all. It’s not her fa
ult she’s drop dead gorgeous.”
Janice looked up at her future boss. “There’s good at flirting, and there’s good at flirting, Avery. And you’re ten times prettier than she is. You just don’t gussy yourself up as much.”
Avery shook her head. “Now you’re just living in a fantasy land.”
Janice laughed. “Suit yourself, Avery. But I bet Deacon Wolfe would agree with me.”
“Stop it!” Avery half-giggled, half-moaned as she lightly slapped Janice with a brochure. “God, I can’t believe I flirted with a Wolfe!”
