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MERCH: Where in Pinedale?
KID: The Nathan. Charity luncheon. Why?
What the hell is a luncheon?
MERCH: Wanna fuck you.
KID: So come fuck me.
As I shove my phone into my pocket, my grin widens. Slinging a leg over my rig, I roar out of the compound. I need to go home first. I don’t know where The Nathan is, but aluncheonsounds fancy. They won’t let me in with ratty jeans and a cut.
Ducking up to my apartment, I change into a button-down shirt, a newer pair of jeans, and motorcycle boots and snag my best leather jacket – which doesn’t have club insignia on it. I leave my cut lying on my couch and grab the keys to my Chevy.
I have a truck, I just prefer to ride. Sliding into the cab, I punch The Nathan into my GPS, pulling out of the covered parking lot at the side of my building.
The Nathan is a hotel. I think luncheon might be a fancy way of saying lunch. They have a circular drive with what looks to be valet parking. Fuck that.
Finding a parking space on the road, I approach the large sandstone and glass hotel on foot. Clean lines and pillars give it the look of a luxury place. The doorman in a suit, not even sweating in the desert fall, holds the door open for me with a nod. Fancy.
I stride into the marble-floored lobby. There’s a chandelier. Digging my phone out of my pocket, I pull up my conversation with Shelley.
MERCH: Here. Where are you?
She better still be here. I stare at my phone, hoping she’s going to answer soon. I don’t want to be moved on, and I can feel the doorman staring at the tattoo on the side of my neck that my jacket doesn’t cover. My phone buzzes. Thank fuck for that.
KID: Got a room. 8thfloor. Room 819.
That’s more like it. Grinning, I pocket my phone. Striding to the elevator bank, I jab the button to go up. Thankfully, I get the elevator car to myself, hitting the button for the eighth floor.
Room 819 isn’t too far from the elevator bank, the room number blinking from a shiny gold plaque in the middle of the highly polished wooden door. The plush navy blue carpet kills all sound of footsteps.
Lifting my hand, I knock on the door, leaning against the doorframe with my forearm. I cock my head, but I can’t hear if she is approaching the door because of the plush carpet.
It swings open, and I blink, my mouth dry. She’s in a floaty blue dress, looking completely different from my black ballerina pixie, or my butterfly tourist in her denim, T-shirts, and tennis shoes. Her masses of thick, dark hair are piled on top of her head, shiny, sleek, and pretty. She looks like a princess.
“This is different,” I smirk, clearing my throat. The goddess in front of me rolls her eyes, grimacing. There’s my girl.
I follow her when she steps back, kicking the door shut behind me.
“This isMichelle,” she drawls, saying her name like it’s a dirty word. Ah, Shelley is a nickname for Michelle. She’s clearly not a fan of her attire right now. Pity, it’s nice.
Closing the distance between us, I press myself against her back, my hands roaming over her floaty, gauzy dress, my lips finding her neck as she tips her head to the side, moaning and allowing me access.
“Michelle looksgood,” I breathe against her sweet-smelling skin.
“Michelle would never suck off a biker at a fairground,” she gasps. Snickering into her neck, my hands find her zipper, slowly lowering it.
“Michelle sounds boring,” I amend, my mind full of Shelley with butterflies painted down her cheek, on her knees, and her dainty lips stretched around my dick. I know who I prefer.
“Yeah. Michelle is definitely boring.”
I get the zipper down, still chuckling in her neck. My fingers creep over her collar, tugging the dress down and discarding it in a cloud-like puddle on the thick carpet.
Stepping away from her, I spin her around, holding her at arm's length and drinking in the sight of her.
She’s wearing satin and lace lingerie, a slightly darker blue than her discarded dress. Fuck me. She’s even wearing a garter belt and silk stockings.
“Not that boring,” I murmur, my eyes eating up all the creamy flesh. I want to taste all of it. I want to lick every inch of her, tasting it all.
