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“Worth the wait?” I ask.
She spins on me with those lust pricked cheeks. “One hundred million percent worth the wait,” she laughs.
I step from the car and walk around to her side, open the door, and offer her my hand. She takes it, sending savage twisting sensations up my arm, dancing around my body, going straight into my chest, and causing my heart to beat like I’m a damn madman.
I pull her to her feet and into a crushing embrace, feeling how tense her body is with her orgiastic energy.
I reel back before kissing her, though, because my manhood is as rock solid as it’s been the whole ride over and I don’t trust myself to hold back. The temptation to maul her whelms inside of me like a deafening, impossible to ignore song.
She lets out a shivering breath that goes directly to my center, and then slides her hand down my arm and interlocks her fingers with mine.
“Wasn’t it a bit presumptuous?” she sasses as we walk toward the glorious brick structure.
“What?” I ask.
“You know, booking a room here without asking me first.”
The teasing note in her voice almost drives me feral right there, the way she feistily perks her eyebrows, the way her whole body seems to shimmer so that those life-giving breasts jiggle alluringly.
“Oh, I haven’t booked a room,” I smirk.
“Markus,” she laughs. “Look at this place. It’s going to be completely booked up.”
“You better hope not,” I banter right back, loving how easy it is to sink into a back-and-forth with her. “Because if that’s the case, I’m taking you down there on the rocks, with the sea as our backdrop. I can’t wait any longer.”
Her hand tightens on mine. It’s like I can feel her womb in the gesture, the urgency of her body’s need to take everything I have to give, to welcome it into her womb and let it make a home there, creating life, creating a future.
“What am I, a mermaid?”
“No, Millie, you’re far more magical than that.”
She flushes. “Well, I’m not the sea creature anyway. You are … you seal.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “You’ve got me there.”
The reception area is decorated like some sort of ancient ballroom, with tapestries on the walls. The receptionist wears an outfit that wouldn’t look out of place in a museum, his hair cut in the classic Prince Charming way. They really go for it here, it seems.
“Good day, good sir, my lady,” he says with a short bow.
Millie laughs in delight. And goddamn, that sound alone makes it worth it. It’s like a song, sweet and melodic as it rises up inside of me.
“Have you perchance got your booking reference?” the man asks.
“We haven’t made a booking,” I tell him.
He does a double-take as though I’ve just told him I don’t have lungs. “No booking, good sir? This is most unusual. I’m afraid all of our rooms are taken … everything below the Royal Suite, that is.”
“The Royal Suite,” I muse, turning to Millie.
She looks downright queenly standing there in that form hugging dress, her curves making me want to grab, possess, own.
She’s a queen, yeah, but she’s a dirty queen who knows how to please her man.
“What do you think?”
“I think we should ask how much this Royal Suite is before you do anything stupid.”
The way she talks, it’s like we’re a couple. And far from making me want to sprint out of the room and get the hell out of here as fast as I can, it makes me want to hug her close, thank her for looking out for me.
We’re a team.
“The Royal Suite is three thousand and six hundred dollars per night if you please.”
Millie’s eyebrows shoot up and she glares at me.
“Markus, you can’t—”
“We’ll take it,” I say, reaching for my wallet. “If you please …”
Millie giggles, despite the evident shock warping her features. The receptionist barely misses a beat as his expression shifts from disbelief to delight, bowing shortly as he takes my card and runs it through the machine. Soon we have our keys and we’re free to head toward the executive elevator that leads directly to our suite.
“Elevators don’t seem very medieval, eh?” I joke as we walk.
“Markus,” she murmurs, tugging on my hand. “You didn’t have to do that. That’s a lot of money.”
“You’re worth it,” I tell her passionately. “You’re worth a hundred, a thousand times that. No, fuck that. That’s not even fair. Because I couldn’t put a price on you, Millie.”
We stop outside the elevator. I use the key to engage it, and then we wait as the faux-brick walls slide away to show the actual elevator doors. We walk inside, Millie letting go of my hand and worrying hers at each other.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I’m just not used to people spending that kind of money on me,” she murmurs. “I don’t want you to bankrupt yourself, you know.”
