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“Oh fuck, this isn’t…? Is this the bridal suite?”
It was. Heart shaped furnishings competed with each other to see which could be the gaudiest. Upholstered almost entirely in red velvet, the room was as breathtakingly kitsch as it wasoffensive. It’s one redeeming feature was giant floor to ceiling windows, which showed the sprawling city going about its never-sleeping business silently beyond the cold glass.
Xavier decided to ignore the dangling question.
She shook her head, hands out. “Dude, I’m not—if your wife is waiting somewhere, I—”
“No!” he hastened to assure her. “There’s no wife. It—the room—it was a kind of joke. Not a very funny one, as it turned out.”
He’d thought proposing to Beth in the bridal suite would be a laugh. She’d had a very different punch line in mind.
Hope nodded, still taking in the room. Her gaze was drawn to a spot near the bathroom door. “Did you know there’s a hole in your wall?” She pointed to the fist sized cavity in the drywall.
“Yeah…mice.”
Her brows knitted, but she didn’t ask anything further.
“Look, let’s not worry about the room, okay? It’s not going to matter, trust me. All we need is the bed,” Xavier said with a slanted grin.
Hands planted firmly on hips, she slouched to one side and said, “Oh, surely you can do better than that. Half an hour ago your tongue sounded much more creative.”
Xavier stood and stepped forward, but Hope held up her hand in a stop gesture.
“Your clothes,” she said, her voice still a little slurred and tight, as though it was unfamiliar with issuing demands. “I want you to take them off. Now.”
So she was still planning on the dominant thing.Well, won’t this be a change. His pulse rate kicked up, and his cheeks stretched into a grin.
“Sure.”
Xavier took his time. After all, they had all night. Removing his jacket, he placed it on the chair. Next was his t-shirt. Thatgarnered a slight gasp from his companion. He’d spent enough time on the beach and in the gym to be toned and tanned in all the right places. He knew his full sleeve tattoo complimented the developed muscles and invited closer inspection.
Already barefoot, he let his jeans drop next. No point in being bashful. He slipped his underwear down his legs and stepped out of it. As he stood before her completely naked, Hope seemed only able to concentrate on his erect cock. Her deep breathing made her chest rise and fall, almost panting. Yet she made no forward movement.
“I can’t help but notice you’re still fully clothed,” Xavier said as casually as he could.
Without another word, she seemed to float towards him. Xavier let her approach, as he hadn’t received orders to move. Rising onto her toes, she let her lips meet his, hot and wet, succulent. He could have kissed her for hours, but the way she ground her crotch against his granite-like manhood, that didn’t seem like a plausible option. He was eager to touch her, while conscious of the fact he’d not yet been granted her permission. His hands bunched into fists by his sides.
Hope broke the kiss, took a step backwards, and stripped off her dress with a pleasing amount of haste.
In clichéd fashion, Xavier’s jaw dropped. Stunning was too polite a word. Fuckable barely covered it. Xavier thought he would be hard for the rest of his life at the sight. He knew the image would be burned into his brain forever. His pulse throbbed in his throat, and his hands itched to pull her back to him.
She was a vision. His gaze roved downwards to her wonderfully curved thighs, her neatly trimmed pussy and up again to her gorgeous breasts and her wicked, wicked smile. His blood drained south, thickening his already eager cock.
Momentarily, he was unsure what to do next. Hope was calling the shots. This wasn’t his usual state of being. Uncertainty and sensual overload muddied his brain. Breathing was probably important, but apart from that, he was at a loss. His cock throbbed, providing helpful hints.
Hope’s breathing was faster as she laid her hands on his chest.
“You owe me a demonstration, Surfer-Boy.”
“Of?”
She motioned to the kitchenette. “I want you to bend me over the bench and prove to me that that tongue of yours is as clever as it sounds.”
Without waiting for a response, she headed for the kitchenette and looked over her shoulder at him expectantly. She bit her lip and inhaled as the cold bench hit her hot skin.
He half expected steam to rise from it.
Now was not the time for self-doubt. Luckily, he didn’t have any. Xavier moved to stand behind her, tenderly placed a hand on her inner knee, and moved one leg onto the bench, her knee resting on the cold marble. He ran his other hand over her shapely leg as his cock felt the wetness of her vagina.
