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He pulled me towards him, his eyes devouring me. “Then fuck me and hate me afterwards.” His mouth grew into a smile. “The more you abuse me, the harder my dick gets.”
My entire body went limp as I fell into his arms. His smell, a mix of cologne and testosterone, made me lightheaded. His lips were soft as they brushed against mine, and an electric current seemed to sizzle between us. I surrendered to that kiss like someone starved of passion.
He pushed me gently onto the wall, his body on mine. I could feel his hard cock on my stomach and my core flooded with need as the crotch of my panties dampened. He rubbed his bulge against me as though to provoke me. “See how fucking hard you make me? Don’t you want to feel every inch of my cock inside of you?”
I was lost to the heat of the moment when the clearing of a throat snapped me out of a lusty daze. Smiling at me were the pair of weed-smokers from earlier.
“The band room’s empty,” one of them said, arching a brow.
Powerless to resist Ethan, I cocked my head. “Let’s go somewhere, then.” I guided him to the back-door entrance.
We stepped into the alleyway, where people sold drugs and all kinds of shady characters gathered. If one ignored them; they were harmless enough. Some of them were buskers or street people whose main crime was poverty.
I climbed into the taxi as he held open the door for me. He got in, his shoulder against mine.
His hand stroked my palm as we rode through London, while pulsing lights and endless crowds blurred into an abstract painting. Adjusting his slacks, he touched his dick, which made my breath hitch. Anticipation tingled down to my sticky panties.
We arrived at Lovechilde Hotel, a nineteenth-century work of beauty. I’d always been a sucker for historical architecture, which made London so fascinating. The hotel, with its white façade, layered with columns and sculptured embellishments didn’t disappoint. Particularly at night, bathed in red light, it made for an aesthetic spectacle.
“I’ve got the penthouse suite,” he said casually.
We stepped onto the red carpet and climbed marbled stairs bordered by golden rope. A concierge greeted Ethan with a nod, as we stepped into the glossy entrance with glittering crystal chandeliers. In one corner was a moody piano bar, where guests talked quietly under Tiffany lamps. Astounded by an overload of opulence, I felt like Alice visiting the queen’s residence.
“I must look so out of place.” I tugged at my dress.
He smiled. “You look stunning. That dress suits you.”
“That’s because it’s seriously tight.”
“Yeah. Nice.” He smirked. “But, hey, don’t worry about what people think. I never do.”
I paused. “You don’t have to.”
He shrugged. “It works both ways. I felt like a fish out of water at the Green Room.”
I chuckled. “You did look like you’d fallen from another dimension. Just like I do here.”
He pressed the elevator button, and in we went. As soon as the doors shut, his hands were all over me, squeezing my arse, and his hard body pressed against me. His hot mouth was wide, moist, and impatient.
He ran his hand under my dress.
I pulled away. “Hey someone might enter.”
“It’s a private elevator.” His hot breath on my face. “I can’t wait to see you dance on my cock.”
A stuttered breath left my mouth. I couldn’t wait to dance on his cock either.
The doors slid apart, and with our bodies tightly bound in an embrace, we stumbled into a massive space.
Leather sofas. More original gilded art. Sea-green walls. Marble male figures scattered about artfully.
“Oh my god. How lavish.”
Ethan scratched his shadowed jaw. “My father lived here for a while. It belongs to the family. But as I’m now the CEO of the hotel, it’s my pad for a while.”
“Pad?” I turned around, soaking in the aesthetic room. “More like a palace.”
Beyond the wall of windows, London swarmed with life, as thousands bustled over the bridge. Beneath them, the murky Thames flowed through the city like a dark rippling sheet of satin.
