by Isobel Rey
‘Can you feel me?’ she asked.
‘Yes. You’re soaking, and hot …’ Richard’s voice was husky and low.
She pushed her finger inside herself and felt the velvety smoothness inside.
‘You’re inside now … I can feel you …’
She could hear Richard rubbing his erection. He must have put his phone on speaker too, and he must be wanking next to the earpiece. The mental picture gave her a thrill. She remembered how she had taken him in her mouth, the smooth head; she wondered if it was speckled with precome.
‘Stroke that little spot for me,’ he demanded.
Alexia curled her middle finger and felt the gorgeous ache as she stroked. She saw her face in the mirror; her mouth had fallen open with the pleasure of it. A moan escaped her lips.
‘You’re stroking it?’
‘Yes’
‘It’s my finger inside you. I’m running my finger right up inside you.’
‘Yes.’
Alexia kept stroking and stroking. She wriggled free of her panties with her other hand and let them fall to her feet. She kicked them off so that she could open her legs wider.
The bath water was still running. Alexia could hear it bubbling, the foaming water sending the smell of the white musk all around the room.
The mirror was starting to steam, making her reflection hazy. She looked as if she were melting. Her finger curled and stroked. She brought her other hand to her pussy, and eased her oiled finger over her clit. She moaned again, louder this time.
‘You’re getting close …’
‘Yes. Yes, I am,’ panted Alexia.
‘Take your finger out …’
‘No, I don’t want to …’
‘Take it out.’ Richard’s voice was low but insistent.
Alexia obeyed.
‘How wet are you? Are you dripping?’
‘Yes. Yes, I am.’ Her need was urgent.
‘Three fingers, stiff, hard …’
Alexia jammed her fingers together.
‘That’s my cock, it’s real hard, and it wants to be inside you … Put my cock inside you … Let me fuck you …’
Alexia rammed her fingers in and groaned with the roughness of her own action. She heard Richard wanking harder, the tell-tale slapping sound as his hand hit his abdomen on each down stroke.
‘That’s it. Oh yes … Right up to the hilt … Keep me fucking you … Come on baby, that’s it. Keep fucking, keep fucking …’
She rammed her fingers in over and over as she rubbed her clit with her thumb; she climbed and climbed and Richard heard her gasp as she climaxed. She clamped her hands to her pussy. Pressing hard, she squeezed out every last gorgeous drop of the oozing, swooshing orgasm. The slapping noises from the speakerphone grew frantic until she heard a deep, animal moan and the slapping stopped.
She sank down onto the edge of the bath, her hand and wet fingers resting on her leg. She looked in the mirror, her reflection now a blur in the steam, foggy and soft.
The speakerphone crackled, and she heard a slightly breathless Richard. ‘Hey, you’re gettin’ real good at this, sweet pea.’
Alexia gave a weak laugh, ‘I had help.’
Richard laughed. ‘Now that bath must be about full, I reckon.’
The bath! She’d almost forgotten about it. She turned and shut off the taps. It was just coming up to full. She dipped her hand, still soaked in her juices, into the water.
‘Perfect temperature,’ she said.
‘Then go ahead. Slip in, beautiful, slip that beautiful body into those bubbles and wash all your cares away …’
Alexia was serious for a moment. ‘Thanks, Richard.’
There was a long pause. ‘Hey, what friends are for, right?’
‘Friends?’ Alexia laughed.
‘The Brazilians have a phrase for it. It translates roughly as “coloured friends” …’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Friends who fuck, with none of the complications of a relationship. I like the Brazilians; they have the right attitude to life. Now goodnight, little girl, sleep tight and sweet dreams.’
‘OK. See you when I get home.’
‘Mmm, maybe …’
‘Maybe?’ asked Alexia. ‘Will you be gone?’
‘Well, I may have moved to Rio …’
She laughed and slipped into the bath.
Chapter Ten
Alexia packed her bag, and sorted out her work file, ready to leave the hotel and head back to the office. Another long drive with Nathan. She wasn’t sure she could bear it. Richard had soothed her last night, taken her out of herself enough to sleep, but it had been a fitful sleep.
Her dreams were tortured and twisted. She didn’t dream of Nathan, but of a man trying to catch her, trying to trap her. Tony or Carter? She didn’t know, and didn’t care; there was only one man who really mattered to her, and he had made it quite clear his attentions were focused elsewhere.
Her mobile rang. The office. She picked it up and took a deep breath to steady her voice.
‘Alexia here.’
‘It’s Phillipa … I can’t get hold of Nathan, he’s not answering his mobile or his room phone. Have you seen him?’
‘I … No, I haven’t, but I haven’t left my room yet,’ Alexia checked her watch. Seven-thirty. ‘He might be having breakfast.’
‘He’d have his mobile with him. Get him, please, I need to speak to him.’
Phillipa hung up. Get him, she’d said. Alexia already felt pretty low; being treated as a servant didn’t lighten her mood.
Then the implication set in. Get him? How? She didn’t know where he was. The room swam. She didn’t even want to face him, and now she had to track him down.
Alexia swiped her key from the table, picked up her phone, and went to reception. Had anyone seen Nathan today? They all knew who he was. No, they hadn’t seen him. Would she like them to try his room? No reply. She went to the dining room, then the spa – still no luck.
There was nothing else for it. She’d have to put a note under his door. She walked towards the suites. The plush carpet under her feet, hushing her steps, took her straight back to the night of the orgy. She looked down the corridor to the room Iorizzo occupied.
She still couldn’t get that night out of her mind; how Tanya had waited – no, begged – to be fucked by the two footballers and how they had obliged her, in style. She felt Tony’s hands on her again as she walked down the corridor, playing with her, teasing her, his fingers on her breasts, his voice in her ear. ‘Do you want it? Do you want it too?’
She tried to shake the image from her mind, as she’d reached Nathan’s suite. She realised she’d arrived without a pen and paper to write a note. She thought of knocking, but what was the point? Reception had already tried. She knew she should try again, but she couldn’t bear the thought he might answer the door. She was turning to leave when the door opened. Blondie stood in the doorway, wearing that split-to-the-ears dress she’d had on last night, exposing her runway model legs. She was bare faced, but she was still striking, even without the lipstick.
Alexia felt that familiar sick tumbling in her stomach. Blondie eyed her coolly and walked out of the suite, leaving the door wide open. She carried her sling-back heels by the straps, slung over her shoulder. Even barefoot, she towered over Alexia.
How can she be so brazen? Blondie sashayed down the corridor, heels in hand, an almost defiant morning-after walk of shame. She was proud of her conquest. She was the right height for Nathan, thought Alexia with a pang of agonising jealousy.
Alexia couldn’t help herself. She stepped slowly into the suite, but there was no sign of life. Where was Nathan? She moved through the rooms in turn. It wasn’t vast, like Iorizzo’s suite, but it was certainly a lot bigger than her room, as was the bed. It was huge – and the bedclothes were a mess. Not a bed where a lot of sleeping had taken place, she thought, and felt that stabbing pain of jealousy again.
She heard the
shower and realised the bathroom door was wide open. Slowly, almost automatically, she moved to stand where she could see straight into the bathroom. There was no steam in the room; he had clearly just got in. Just said goodbye to Blondie? She looked into the bathroom and there was Nathan, standing with his back to her in the shower, naked.
Her eyes swept over him. Long legs, with dark hair curling on his taut muscles. His thighs were strong and his buttocks were high and exceptionally toned. He could have given the footballers a run for their money. But then her eyes moved to his back and on his side she saw a large, messy scar, round, about the size of an orange.
He turned in the shower. Alexia’s stomach lurched as she saw his chest, covered in downy black hair, come into view. And his cock. She had seen her fair share in the past week or so, but not Nathan’s. It was relaxed, long and thick. Circumcised too, the helmet smooth and shiny. She looked up. She was standing so still he hadn’t seen her. He was washing himself, lathering the shower gel. She watched his long muscular arms as he moved his hands, soaping the dark hair on his chest. Then he moved lower, and lower, finally covering himself and washing between his legs, taking himself in hand. The sight of him soaping himself made Alexia want to moan. She felt a yearning pull deep inside her and felt her own sex moisten at the sight of his dripping wet cock, his tight balls and the soft black hair that framed them.
But then he looked up. He saw her. They both froze. Alexia thought her heart would stop. She felt herself holding her breath as embarrassment and mortification swept over her. She turned on her heels and made for the door, but Nathan was swiftly after her. She heard the shower door clang open and soft footfalls behind her.
A jutting side table slowed her progress and she cannoned off the wall and furniture trying to get out, like a small animal trapped in a complicated cage. Then she felt a strong hand pull her arm and she reeled around to face him.
He was right in front of her, hair soaking, every inch of him dripping. He was breathing hard. She daren’t look down, but she could see in her peripheral vision that he was clutching a white towel to his front.
His eyes bored into her, fierce and blue. Was he angry? Embarrassed? She couldn’t tell. She stammered.
‘I’m so sorry. It’s just that Phillipa called. She’s – she’s been trying to get hold of you and …’
He was standing close, still holding her arm. No aftershave this time, but the smell of the shower gel, the sweet, clean smell of fresh skin, so close, so very close. She could feel his breath on her.
‘It’s just you’re not answering your mobile or your –’ she hesitated, picturing the rumpled bed ‘– room phone.’
The phrase hung in the air. They both knew what it meant.
They stood frozen, silent again. Alexia bit her lip. She wanted to reach out, to touch his wet skin. She wanted to kiss him, touch him, to rip the towel away and take him in her mouth the way Richard had shown her. She wanted to press herself against him and feel the dripping shower water soak through her blouse onto her own skin.
But he must be sated. Blondie would have seen to that. Blondie would have caressed his beautiful cock with those red-painted lips. She would have tasted him and pleasured him. Alexia felt miserable. So close to him, so agonisingly close, but miles apart.
He dropped his hand from her arm. He pulled the sides of the towel and wrapped it around himself, tucking one corner in to secure it in place. He was getting erect. She could see the lump under the towel. For her?
He stepped back, turning into the professional again, her boss. How could he manage that, dressed in a towel? But he could.
‘OK. We have to leave soon, be ready in reception in an hour …’
He was going to make no mention of his nakedness, of the fact she had seen him, or of Blondie. Did he know she had seen her? Did he care?
‘Right.’ Alexia’s voice was small, subdued.
He realised he’d been curt. ‘Thank you,’ he added, softly.
Alexia couldn’t meet his eye. She was looking at another scar, on his front this time.
‘A through and through,’ said Nathan.
Alexia didn’t understand.
‘It’s where a bullet goes right through you,’ he said by way of explanation. He sounded so matter of fact. Just a bullet, straight through, that’s all.
She felt her jaw moving but no sound came out.
‘It’s OK. It didn’t kill me, clearly.’
Alexia smiled weakly. ‘I – er – I’ll tell Phillipa you’ll call her and get ready to go.’
‘Good.’ Nathan nodded. ‘Now, if you don’t mind …’ He pointed at the shower.
Alexia gasped with embarrassment. ‘No, of course. Sorry …’
She was still stammering as she dashed out of the suite. She almost ran all the way back to her room. She didn’t see Tony standing in the lounge as she tore past, or hear him follow her to Room 69.
She crashed into her room and went straight into the bathroom. She held onto the sink and fought back the tears. She couldn’t cry, not now; she needed to get ready to leave. She went back into the room and texted Phillipa.
She couldn’t face speaking to the woman, her voice wouldn’t hold. Found Nathan, he’ll call you shortly. Alexia. She dropped the phone on the bed. Her hands were shaking.
Then she remembered how Sonia had stopped her from crying by forcing her to throw back a whisky. She grabbed the fridge door and yanked it open, hearing the tell-tale clinking of the little bottles of golden booze in the door. She grabbed one. It opened with a tiny cracking sound as she twisted the aluminium cap. She closed her eyes, hurled her head back, and heard the tiny glug-glug sound as the whisky escaped through the miniature bottle neck and hit the back of her throat.
It stung. She breathed out, her eyes still shut tight. She could feel the shock of the alcohol stilling her, but she could also feel the gnawing, throbbing ache in her cunt. Nathan’s wet body, his bright blue gaze sweeping over her …
‘A little early, isn’t it?’
Her eyes snapped open to see Tony standing in front of her, the adjoining door to their two rooms wide open.
‘How did –?’
‘Oh, an obliging maid,’ said Tony as he stepped slowly towards her. ‘So what’s brought this on? Sun’s not even remotely over the yardarm and you’re already hitting the hard stuff.’
Alexia stammered, ‘I’ve just had a shock, that’s all. It’s nothing.’
‘It’s not nothing. I think there are lot of things about you you’re hiding, Alexia, but secret drinking isn’t one of them.’
He was very close to her now, disturbingly close.
‘It’s personal!’ she snapped. ‘Now, we have to check out, so can you just leave me alone, I have to get ready.’ She rushed into the bathroom; it was all she could think to do to put space between them, but he was soon after her.
‘Well, we do seem to like our little secret rooms, don’t we? Small spaces, very intimate …’
He moved towards her. His eyes were pure lust.
‘Tony, please …’
The next word would have been no, if she’d managed to utter it, but Tony moved in.
‘Tony, please?’ He repeated her words but turned the word please into a begging entreaty. ‘Please what? Please fuck me?’
Her denial was muffled as his mouth covered hers. He had grabbed her so fast, enveloping her in strong arms, his tongue possessing her mouth. She wanted to scream but she couldn’t. She was so needy, so raw. She shut her eyes and let him kiss her.
He pressed her back against the sink. She felt the hard porcelain rim dig into her back and gave a small yelp into his mouth. He mistook it for pleasure and pressed harder.
She moaned harder and he released her mouth. He pulled her back towards him and grabbed her buttocks as he had in Iorizzo’s suite. His fingers were hard and cruel and they thrilled her. He pulled her hips into his, his granite hard erection pressing against her clit. He watched her open mouth as she panted
slightly. He knew he had her, and he vocalised her thoughts. ‘Yes, fuck me …’
His voice was low, sensual, then, without warning, he wheeled her round to face away from him and held her by her shoulders with a vice-like grip. He did it so fast she almost lost her footing.
Tony stood behind her, his face to one side of hers as he looked at her in the vanity mirror. His blond hair was gelled, turning his curls into hard, wet-look coils. He didn’t look angelic today, he looked anything but. That cruel mouth was smiling. No more cajoling, no more soft words in her ear, he was going to fuck her – and she was going to let him. She didn’t know why, but she knew she didn’t want lovemaking; she wanted something rougher, harder, unforgiving. She wanted his cruelty, she wanted to feel punished.
‘Yes?’ he asked, showing his teeth like an animal that’s about to strike.
She couldn’t say the words, but she couldn’t stand the gnawing, raw need any longer. She needed to feel a man inside her, hard and demanding. She needed to feel his unrelenting thrusts over and over.
Tony reached around her and yanked open her blouse. She felt the air sweep over her breasts as the buttons popped and ricocheted around the room, ripped away from the tiny strands of cotton that had held them in place.
He grabbed the lace that covered her breasts and pulled it down. No teasing nipple play today. He took both pink mounds in his hands and pinched them hard. Alexia gasped, pain/pleasure ripping through her.
‘You want it nasty, don’t you?’ Tony growled.
Alexia could only pant as he twisted and pinched her nipples, each pinch harder than the last, until finally she gasped in pain.
‘Oh yes, you want me to hurt you a little, don’t you? You want me to –’ he waited, to make sure she was listening ‘– you want me to make you, don’t you?’
