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CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Hard And Deep
I take Carly up to our suite on the second floor.The room is amazing with a king-size bed, leather-panelled walls, plasma-screen TV and a panoramic view of the River Thames.
As we enter the room, I can tell by her face that’s she’s impressed. How could she not be? I’ve pulled out all the stops to make this the most perfect night ever.
I can’t stop my hands from shaking. My limbs feel like marble and my dick is hard enough to break concrete. I’ve never been so nervous. I can’t believe we’re finally alone. I can’t believe she’s here with me. She looks trusting; so ripe for the taking so… so innocent. She has no idea what’s about to hit her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I don’t think I can do this.” She turns to go, but before she reaches the door, I lunge forward, barring the exit.
I slip my finger under her chin.Jesus, those eyes!
“Please, don’t go,”I whisper, trying not to show my desperation. “Nothing’s going to happen if you don’t want it to. We can just sit here and talk, or watch a movie. I don’t want this night to be over. Please, stay. Is that too much to ask?”
We hold each other’s gaze for a minute. I wonder what she’s thinking. Then she releases a heavy sigh.
“All right, I’ll stay,” she says in a small voice. Bowing her head, Carly allows me to lead her over to the bed, and for what seems like forever, the two of us sit side by side, looking away from each other. Her arms are folded protectively across her chest, and I can see that she’s scared.
Please don’t be scared of me, baby. I’ll be gentle as a kitten.
“So, do you come here often?” Carly asks, breaking the silence.
“You mean to this hotel?”
“Mmm.”
“Yes, I stay here a couple of times a year. It’s one of my favourite hotels.”
She gives a low whistle. “Sounds like you’re a pretty busy guy.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
“If you’re implying that I bring women regularly to the Corinthia, I’m afraid you’re very much mistaken. My business here is purely professional. Sometimes clients fly over from abroad, and I’m obliged to stay in the same hotel as a show of hospitality.”
“How nice for you.”
“Do I detect a note of sarcasm?”
“No,” she giggles. “Definitely not.”
There’s another silence.
“By the way, Nick, I never asked you how old you are.”
“How old do I look?”
“Oh, I don’t know, thirty?”
I decide to play with her a little. “I’m one- hundred and fifty-five years old.”
“Yeah, right. Pull the other one.”
I laugh inwardly.If only she knew.“I’m not pulling anything. It’s true.”
“Okay, I’ll say this. If you really are over a century old, then you must use a bloody-good moisturiser. I must get the name of your supplier.” We both chuckle and then she adds, “No, but seriously Nick, how old are youreally?”
