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She points the tip of her talon at a Cabernet Sauvignon only available by a bottle. I order her blasted bottle, because hey, we’re on the CIA’s dime, and I order a bourbon neat.
The bartender is a thirty-something Australian who keeps his eyes locked on Sophia as he slides me my drink. She’s talking to him about how long he’s lived in Canada and how much he enjoys working for the Four Seasons. I slam my drink back in two swallows and push it to him.
“More,” I say.
“Sophia!” a high-pitched woman squeals from behind me. I twist on the stool as Gemma stumbles toward us. Rafael appears to be partially holding her up.
“Gemma!” Sophia transforms into a squealing girly woman and pushes off her stool to give Gemma a big hug. Any observer would think they were besties.
“What’re you doing?” Gemma asks.
“Just getting drinks.”
“Oh, I want a drink,” Gemma says as Rafael says, “We’re going back to our room.”
“Come with us!” Gemma claps her palms together. “Bring your drinks. We have a huge den and a gigantic fireplace.”
I scope Rafael, searching to see how pissed he’ll be if we join them. He shrugs and says, “Come on.”
I pick up Sophia’s coat and drape it over my arm along with mine. She grabs the wine bottle and heads off with Raphael and Gemma. I lag behind to sign our check, give the overly friendly bartender a mediocre tip, then catch up with the others at the elevator.
The four of us say little in the elevator. Gemma rubs her body against Rafael. Two teenage girls fill the space between Sophia and me and get off one floor below our destination.
The elevator reaches our floor, and Gemma takes Sophia’s hand and leads her down the hall. Rafael and I follow.
“Girl can’t hold her liquor,” he says, but he looks amused rather than annoyed. “Not sure how long we’ll be up.”
“Just tell us to go when you’re ready.”
He bypasses the girls and opens the suite door.
Once inside, Rafael clasps a hand on my shoulder and asks, “What’re you drinking?”
“Bourbon.” I left the fresh pour back at the bar, sensing it might be in poor taste to carry my drink through the hotel.
Rafael steps into the small kitchen and pours us all drinks, emptying the rest of the wine bottle into two glasses.
Gemma grins up at her husband, rapidly blinks her thick, dark lashes, and says, “I love my husband.” She giggles and holds up her generous pour as the implied reason.
Rafael takes a seat on the corner of the sofa and pats his thigh. “Sit.”
Gemma complies, positioning herself on his lap. She dips her head and administers kisses up his neck.
Their den is like ours, only slightly larger. There are more doors leading off of their den, and they have more leather armchairs. I hesitate, waffling between an armchair or the sofa, and Sophia sidles up to me.
“Sit,” she breathes into my ear and giggles.
Yes, she is quite the actress. Her palm caresses my chest. Gentle pressure directs me to the leather armchair. The cushion sinks beneath my weight and Sophia plops down on my thigh. She squirms on my lap, and my dick quivers.
I grip Sophia’s hip to still her. If she keeps moving like that, I’m going to become uncomfortable real fast.
Gemma and Sophia chat back and forth comparing notes about the day. Gemma spouts off about a dress and shoes she saw somewhere. Rafael appears about as entertained by the conversation as I am. His hand ventures up his wife’s thigh, and she finally stops chattering.
Sophia’s long fingers venture along the edge of my jaw. The tip of a nail dips inside my earlobe, and I twitch.
Rafael and Gemma lip lock on the sofa.
A warm, wet mouth nips my earlobe as talons comb through my hair. Soft lips trail down my neck, and I stretch, giving her more room. Pinpricks trickle down the back of my neck, and my dick becomes an aching bulge.
