by Mac Flynn
I rolled my eyes and turned to him. His eyes caught me off guard. There was a strange heat in them that made me blush. I had to look away from him. "T-that's fine, I'm sure there isn't that much room for a married man and an old maid."
"What makes you say I'm married?" he returned.
I shrugged. "Because you have money."
"That doesn't mean I'm married."
"You could buy yourself a wife."
"Then she'd be the last woman I'd want to marry."
I snorted. "A rich guy with morals."
There was a tinge of disapproval in his voice. "That's not really a fair assessment," he argued.
I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. "No, it's not. I'm sorry. I guess I must be more tired than I thought."
I jumped when he stepped over to me and set his hand over mine that held my luggage. I looked up into his dazzling eyes and felt a warmth sweep through my body. He offered me his arm and bowed his head. "Then let me be the gentleman and offer you a moment's rest."
I blushed and slipped my hand out from beneath his strong, warm grip. "I-I think I can handle my own luggage," I insisted.
"I know you can, but to be a gentleman is to offer his assistance when he can handle the weight of a lady's responsibilities for her," he pointed out.
I snorted. "Didn't anyone tell you chivalry was dead?"
"I haven't received the memo." At that moment we reached our floor and the doors opened. He stepped closer and hung his arm in front of me. "Shall we?"
I smiled and took his arm in both my hands. "I guess."
Asta led me out of the elevator and onto a luxurious hall. The floors were polished to a murderous shine, but carpeted to avoid any liability lawsuits. There were alcoves in the white, spotless walls that were filled with busts of great men. The doors to the rooms were spaced thirty feet apart. Asta guided me down the hall to one of the corner rooms. I noticed its neighboring door was a good fifty feet down the passage.
"How big is this room?" I asked him.
"You'll see," he teased. We reached a door marked VIP Suite. He took out one of the keys, unlocked the entrance, and swung open the door.
My eyebrows rose as I beheld a spacious living room as large as my apartment. There was a square depression in which was the long couch and fashionable chairs centered around an oak coffee table. To the left was the kitchen, a masterpiece of stainless steel and marble counter tops. Beyond that was a long stretch of dining room with a table that nearly matched the length. Beyond the open rooms on the opposite side of the front entrance was an open door that led into a massive bedroom complete with an emperor-sized bed.
"Wow. . ." I murmured as I stepped inside. Asta followed after me and closed the door. "You could fit some of the city's landmarks in this place."
"I like to think of it as a landmark," Asta quipped. He wheeled my luggage past me and towards the bedroom.
"Hey! Wait a sec!" I yelped. I grabbed a strap and stopped him. "I'm only staying here for a little while, remember?"
He turned to me with a mischievous smile. "Must have slipped my mind. I'll leave it beside the bedroom door so we won't trip over it."
"You'll leave it beside the front door so I can make a hasty getaway," I argued.
"A reluctant bride?" he teased.
"An experienced old maid."
"I see. Then I will do as you wish." He turned around and leaned it against the door.
I wandered over to the living area and plopped myself on the couch. My worn feet thanks me. "Now what do we do?" I mused.
"There's always dinner," he suggested.
"At ten at night?" I reminded him.
"Room service is always available at this hour," he countered. He strode over to a phone and pressed a button. There was a slight pause, and then he spoke. "Yes, I'd like two steaks, medium rare, with the best dessert wine. Thank you." He dropped the phone and turned to me. "I hope you don't mind my ordering for both of us."
I set my legs on the long couch and shook my head. "I liked the steak, but not the wine. Most wine has way too much alcohol taste and not enough fruit in it."
He walked over and took a seat on the couch near my cushion. "But dessert wine is different. The sugar covers the taste of the alcohol," he explained to me.
"Why didn't you say that in the first place?" I teased.
"I thought perhaps a travel writer would know that," he countered.
I frowned. "How did you-"
"I overheard your conversation on the metro," he admitted. His eyes swept over me with that same heated gaze that made me feel hot and heavy. "I couldn't help noticing a lot of things about you."
I blushed and faced ahead. "W-well, this travel writer doesn't drink on her trips, so I don't know much about alcohol."
He scooted closer and he dropped his voice to a low, sultry whisper. "Are you sure you won't stay here tonight? There's plenty of room."
I squirmed atop my couch cushion. He was making things hot between us, and inside me. "B-but only one bed," I pointed out.
"Is that a problem?" he cooed.
I gathered my slipping self-control and nodded. "It is if you want to sleep somewhere."
He chuckled and leaned away from me. The heavy air dissipated. I'd won, for now. "There's always the couch," he suggested.
I glanced down at the cushions and gave a little bounce. They had a nice spring to them that made me bounce a few inches off them. "Don't roll over too fast. You could bounce into the ceiling," I warned him.
"I'll remember your advice." He leaned to his left and looked at my feet. "I noticed you limped a little as we walked down the hall. Is something wrong with your feet?"
I shook my head. "Nothing a little R&R wouldn't fix."
"What about a massage?" he suggested.
I snorted. "They don't offer room service massages, too, do they?"
"No, but I've been told I perform a good rub when the need arises."
"That sounds like you knock off your competitors," I quipped.
He chuckled. "Not quite, but I might be able to persuade them into a merger with my hands."
My dirty mind thought of a merger we could perform with the help of his warm hands. My cheeks reddened and I coughed. "Well, I guess we can try it, though I warn you you might not make it past the first whiff."
"I'll risk it," he replied.
"All right, I tried to warn you." I raised my other leg onto the couch and turned so I faced him. My feet wiggled just in front of his lap. Asta pulled my tennis shoes off along with my socks. He quickly set both on the floor and grabbed my feet. I laughed and kicked at him. "Not so hard or you'll be swallowing my feet," I warned him.
A devilish grin slipped onto his lips. "Ticklish?"
I glared at him. "And dangerous, so don't get any ideas."
He held up his hands and leaned away. "Wouldn't think of it."
"Good, now let's see if those hands of yours are better at massaging or counting money," I quipped.
"I have a secretary for that," he returned in kind as he took a more cautious hold of my feet. His hands massaged my soles and arches, and I unwillingly found myself enjoying his attentions.
I leaned back against the couch and sighed. "You really should have gone into the massage business," I suggested.
He chuckled. "So a lot of business partners have told me."
I tilted my head up to look at him. "So you really don't have a wife?" I wondered.
He shook his head. "Nope, not even a girlfriend. I'm afraid I'm rather picky about that type of relationship."
"You prefer to invite strange women to your room instead?" I teased.
He grinned. "The strange women are rather more interesting than the normal ones. Besides, you can tell a person by their eyes."
I raised an eyebrow. "And what did mine tell you?"
"That you have a generally mild-mannered disposition, but are liable to make a scene in a hotel lobby," he quipped.
I snorted. "Yeah, about the serv
ice here. I have a bone or two to pick with the own of this place. Know where I can find him to sock him?"
Asta grinned. "Not the slightest."
I suppressed a grin and leaned forward. My eyes narrowed and rubbed my chin in my hand. "You sure? Because you look an awful lot like Mr.-um, Mr.-" I paused and frowned. "What is your first name?"
"John," he told me.
"Yeah, that Mr. John Asta fellow, playboy extraordinaire."
"I plead the fifth," he quipped.
"Rights are null and void when a woman is scorned almost out of her hotel room after a long journey," I argued.
"But your knight in shining armor arrived just in the nick of time and saved the day," he pointed out.
I frowned. "Yes, that is a little suspicious. I hobbled here without a taxi, and you got here after me?"
He sheepishly grinned at me over my feet. "I must admit I was a little worried about you, so I followed you from behind to the hotel." His eyes wandered down to my waist and thighs. "Might I add that being behind you, even from afar, was a pleasure."
I snorted. "It's a hard target to miss, even from afar."
"I get the feeling you don't have a very high opinion of your body," he mused.
I shook my head. "No, and it doesn't have a very high opinion of my attempts at exercising or dieting. Actually, I think it might laugh at me and show its scorn by gaining weight."
"I would rather have some meat on your bones than otherwise," he argued.
Speaking of meat, at that moment the buzzer at the door rang.
CHAPTER 4
I was sorry to have Asta abandon my feet for the entrance. He opened the door and an employee wheeled in a cart with our dinner.
"Where would you like it, sir?" the young man asked his employer.
Asta nodded at the coffee table. "Just put it there."
"Very good, sir," the employee replied as he wheeled the tray over to me.
"The dining table would be better," I argued even as the man put the trays of food on the coffee table.
"But not as informal," Asta countered.
The young employee finished his serving and wheeled back to the door. I noticed Asta slipped him a sizable bill, and then we were once more alone. Asta walked to the opposite side where I sat of the coffee table and took a seat on the floor in front of his plate.
I frowned. "I told you it wouldn't be as comfortable."
He looked down at himself. "So you're right. I should change this." He slid his plate so it sat next to mine, and moved himself onto the couch so our hips almost touched. "There, much more comfortable."
I glared at him. "I know what you're trying to do."
He picked up his fork and knife, and cut into his steak. "And what's that?" he asked through a mouthful of meat.
"You're trying to get me into bed with you."
He swallowed and shook his head. "No, I'm trying to get you to like and trust me, then I'll get you into bed."
"Well, I won't play that game." I stood and turned to head towards the door.
I heard a clatter of silverware and then Asta wrapped his arms around my waist. "A moment, if you will," he argued as he tried to pull me back.
"Not now or ever!" I shot back. I dug my heels into the carpet and pushed against the floor.
He tugged and I pulled. The match was even with my weight against his strength, but his strength was the victor. My weight got the last laugh when my feet lost their hold on the carpet and I tumbled backwards into him. I crushed him beneath my girth and his grip on my waist loosened. I jumped to my feet and spun around to face him with a triumphant grin.
"That'll teach you to-" I froze when I noticed his face was twisted in agony and he held onto one arm. I knelt by his side and looked him up and down. "What's wrong? What happened?"
"Arm," he gasped.
"Did you want me to call a doctor? Or the lobby?" I suggested.
He shook his head and his eyes flickered to the bedroom. "Just. . .help me. . .through there. I'll be. . .fine. . .on the bed."
"You don't sound fine. You sound like you're one foot in the grave and the rest of you is paddling in the River Styx," I quipped.
He managed a strangled chuckle. "I'll recover. . .if you would just. . .get me to the bedroom."
I pursed my lips, but did as he requested. I knelt down and hefted one of his arms across my shoulders. He wasn't light, and it was more of a drag than a carry as I hefted him towards the bedroom. We reached the door when the miracle recovery he hinted at came true. He twirled out of my grasp, caught my wrists and pushed my back against the wall closest to the bedroom door. We faced each other and he raised my hands above my head.
His burning eyes looked into mine with such mischief and lust that I shivered. "I know you want me as much as I want you, but you're too afraid to admit it," he whispered to me.
"I-I don't know-"
"Don't lie to yourself. You won't accept my advances because you don't accept yourself," he argued.
I bit my lip and turned my face away from him. "We just met. There can't be anything between us," I countered.
"Not even love at first sight?" he suggested.
I snorted and looked to him. "You honestly believe that happens to people like us?"
His unwavering eyes were answer enough for me, but he also replied with words. "I believe that when two people meet, no matter what the circumstances, they can find themselves kindred spirits and fall in love."
"That's sounds like a corny romance novel," I quipped.
His firm eyes searched mine. "Don't you feel it? This connection?"
"All I feel is your hands on my wrists and the wall feeding into my back," I told him.
His face fell, and there was such a look of disappointment in his eyes that I regretted my previous comments. He released me and turned away from me. "I see. I'm. . .I'm sorry. I meant you no harm. I just thought-" He stopped and shook his head. "No, you've decided against me."
I frowned and marched over to him. I laid a hand on his tense shoulder and spun him around so he faced me with his morose eyes. "I haven't decided on anything yet, Mr. John Asta. If I want to make out with you or dump you in some god-forsaken alley, I might still do it, or both of them, but you have to give me time."
He raised an eyebrow. "How much time?"
"Oh, about the time it took me to say those words." I wrapped my arms around his neck and captured his lips in a passionate, lust-filled kiss.
We broke apart only for air. My cheeks were as hot as the rest of my aching body, and I looked at John like a woman looks at her lover. He grinned like a Cheshire cat. "You little vixen," he commented.
I smiled and shrugged. "It takes one to know one."
"Then let me show you mine," he quipped.
It was his turn to start another desirous kiss. His eager hands tore the buttons off my blouse and opened my shirt to his view. We somehow we found our way into the bedroom and over to the bed. My legs knocked against the foot and collapsed. I fell backward onto the silken covers. He stood over me, his eyes filled with the heat of his passion. I squirmed upward until most of my body lay on the sheets. My heaving breasts tempted him and my body ached for him.
He crawled atop me and caught my lips in another passionate kiss. His hand undid the strap of my bra and it was flung aside. Our bare flesh meshed against each other. The pert buds of my breasts rubbed his tight muscles and caused tremors of pleasure to flow through my body. I groaned into our kiss and ran my hands along his smooth back. His muscles were tense, quivering. A bulge in his pants told me he wanted me as badly as I wanted him.
He broke our kiss and blazed a hot trail down my neck to my swollen breasts. He took one of my buds in his hot mouth and suckled me. I grasped his head in my hands and groaned. Our hips rubbed together, eager to start the dance of lust. I needed him to make me his, to take me with all the wild abandonment of a desperate lover.
One of his hands slid down and undid the buttons of my pants. His fingers slip
ped beneath the band of my underwear and through the mess of coarse hair to my hot, wet folds. I gasped when his fingers parted my folds and brushed against my sensitive nub. He rubbed a finger against the quivering nerves. I pushed my nub into his finger and rocked my hips in time with his strokes. Each stroke sent a wave of pleasure through my body that heightened my sensual need for him. After a few delicious moments of his touches I couldn't take it any more. I needed him to make me his.
"Please," I moaned. I arched my back and groaned. "Please take me. Make me yours."
He raised his head and his heated eyes looked down at me with such violent passion that I shivered. One of his hands slid up my leg to my hip and pressed me into the bed. His voice was hoarse with his need. "You really want that? To be only mine?" he growled. I nodded. I would have said yes to anything if it meant he would satisfy the burning desire inside me. "You will know no other?"
I squirmed beneath his hold, but he held me tight. "Please," I pleaded.
"Say it. Say you will be only mine," he demanded.
What he demanded of me was so wrong, and yet it felt so right. Everything felt right with him atop me, but I needed more. I needed satisfaction for my lust. "Please take me!" I cried out.
"Say it!"
He'd driven me to the point of madness with his torturous demands. "I'm yours! Only yours!" I yelled.
A grin slipped onto his lips. "Good."
He leaned down and caught my lips in a kiss so full of lust that it took my breath away. Somehow the rest of our clothes were thrown to the floor and he lay naked atop me. He positioned his stiff, swollen member at my entrance. In one quick thrust he deeply penetrated me. I groaned at the feel of him pressed against my walls, filling me with his manhood as only he could do. I'd never felt so complete in my whole life.
Then he lay the rest of his body over me and started our dance of lust. He pulled out and pushed in. His strokes were smooth and slow, tantalizingly slow. I matched my hips to his in our sensual attempt to satiate our carnal need for one another. Each penetration stoked the fire inside me until I thought I would be consumed by my burning desire. Our sweat-soaked bodies slid against each other faster and faster. The air filled with the sounds of our pants and groans.
I clutched onto his back as he moved faster and faster. His penetrations went deeper and deeper, spurred on by the small tingles of orgasm that rippled through our joined bodies. I chanted his name like a worshiper at the altar of my god.
"John. John. John!" Each exultation grew louder and louder as he pushed me closer to my orgasm. I clung to him and arched my back as a million small waves crashed over me to create a swelling of sensual, erotic delight. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"
