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Trine
Rei’s staying in one of one of the fanciest hotels I’ve ever been to, which probably says more about how few nice hotels I’ve been to than how rich he is.
Apart from the clean lines and the expensive furniture, the first thing I notice is just how meticulously organized Rei is. There must be a suitcase somewhere in here, but he’s put it away, and the few personal effects that are on the nightstand are meticulously arranged.
There’s a notebook next to the lamp, leatherbound with carved kanji on it. I can’t read Japanese, but I’ve watched enough anime to know the language at a glance. There’s a pen next to it, but it isn’t like a dollar store pen. This looks like it’s made entirely out of stainless steel. I immediately want to touch it, but I don’t.
He’s still standing by the door when he flips the overhead lights on. I drape my jacket over the back of the office chair. It lands on it crookedly, the only thing out of order in this entire bedroom. I can’t deny it brings me some satisfaction to mess things up a bit.
He approaches me, an easy smile on his face. Looks like he’s taking it in stride. I meet his eyes and smile back at him.
"You can leave your clothes wherever you want, Trine," he says. "I’m not going to complain as long as you’re not wearing them."
I laugh. I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. "I didn’t expect you to be this forward."
His eyes darken as his smile widens, his gaze raking over my body. "What did you expect, exactly?"
"I don’t know," I reply, and I mean it. I have no idea what I expected from him, but the way he’s staring at me makes me feel a little self-conscious. Mostly, it makes me feel hot as fuck. "You seem pretty reserved in public."
He shrugs his shoulders, sliding his bomber jacket down his arms, and it’s my turn to drink him in. He obviously knows what I’m doing, because I can see the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Under the jacket, he’s wearing a standard black tee, his pecs rippling under it. He crosses his arms over his chest, and I let my gaze wander up his practically bare biceps until I’m looking at his face again. "Yeah, well, we’re not in public anymore," he says when I look back into his eyes.
I feel a bit exposed from the way he’s looking at me, from the smirk on his face. I open my mouth to say something—fuck, anything, if I could force myself speak—but he’s crossed the space between us, his hand firmly under my chin. He tilts my face up, his lips only inches away from mine.
"Tell me what you expected," he says, his voice a growl. He’s not asking. He’s telling. I suddenly wonder if you can come just from someone talking to you. I try to swallow down the knot in my throat, my heart hammering at a million beats per minute.
"I don’t know," I say. "You just…you said your mother raised you right. I thought that meant you weren’t going to be all in."
"No," he says. "It means I listen. And all you have to do is tell me what you want. What do you want?"
I close my eyes. He’s so close to me I can smell the mint on his breath, the smell of his pine aftershave. I open my eyes to look at him, wetting my lips as I do, and I sigh into his touch as he traces the outline of my face with his thumb. "I want you to kiss me," I say.
He smiles, just for a second. I think he’s going to answer me, but he doesn’t. He presses his lips against mine, his touch feather soft. He’s teasing me. We both know it. He’s enjoying it more than me. He slings his arms around my waist, pulls me closer to him, and presses his lips against mine. I open my mouth to allow him access, and he kisses me deeply.
He's an excellent kisser; passionate and responsive, and when he pulls me closer to him, I can feel how hard he is through the fabric of his pants. He breaks the kiss, his finger hooked on the top of my halter top. "What do you want now?" he asks, his gaze darting toward my chest.
"I want to hear what you want," I say because this is patently and incredibly unfair.
"What I want," he says, "is to undress you entirely and kiss every part of you that has never been kissed before. Do you want me to?"
"Yes," I say. "Yes."
If he wants me to beg, I’m going to beg. He doesn’t seem to need me to. He’s adept at undoing my buttons, the tips of his fingers sliding my halter top open so that he can peel it off me. I can feel how hot his skin is, and his breath starts to get shaky as he looks down at my breasts. I’m wearing the most expensive bra I own, something lacy, black and semi-sheer.
You know. Just in case.
Rei’s head dips down and he presses his lips against the nape of my neck, his hand sliding down until he’s playing with my nipples. He’s doing so softly, until I’m moaning because he’s exceptionally good at this, even though I’ve never been that into nipple play—but fuck, he’s so good with his hands, it’s kind of crazy. He stops touching me, and I’m immediately annoyed. He reaches back and undoes the clasp of my bra, and then he slowly, very slowly, starts to get on his knees. He kisses the top of my breasts, his breath hard and hot against my skin, and then he’s on his knees in front of me.
He picks his head up to look into my eyes, the glint of the white bulb above him catching in his glasses. "Do you want me to take these off?" he asks, his fingers on the zipper of my jeans.
"Yes," I say breathlessly. "Please."
He doesn’t make me wait. He hooks his fingers into the belt loops of my jeans and slowly pulls them down my legs, his teeth raking along the skin on the inside of my thighs until he reaches the apex of my legs.
"You’re so beautiful," he says. I reach down so I can thread my fingers in his hair, and it’s silky soft, even more than I expected it to be. I feel his breath on the fabric of my underwear as he exhales, but maddeningly, he doesn’t take anything off, not until I use my fingers to pull him closer to me.
He laughs. It sends a shiver down my spine. "Lean against the bed, Trine," he says.
I do as he tells me, leaning against the bed, and at the same time, he takes my jeans off. "Do you want me to take these off?" he asks, his finger on my clit through the fabric of my panties.
