He holds out his hand, and I give him the small scrap of red satin. He lifts it to his face, and with his eyes on me, breathes deep before sliding the panties into his trouser pocket. Then he leans against the elevator’s far wall and slowly looks me up and down.
“As I was saying, the view from my room is nice. But this is much better.” He crosses the car, needing only one long stride to reach me. One thumb brushes across my nipple, and I tremble, then gasp when he pushes me back against the wall. He shifts, one hand now cupping my neck as he holds me in place, the other sliding down between my legs.
Roughly, his mouth closes over mine, our teeth clashing and our tongues warring. He’s fierce, demanding, and I close my eyes and think about the way Hunter is with me at home. Wild and bold. A man who takes what he wants even as he gives me everything I crave.
I arch back as a satisfied tremor courses through me. Just like home, I think. Only decadently different.
“You are so fucking hot,” he says when he breaks the kiss. Then he steps away from me, and I moan in protest, only to swallow the sound when he flips the emergency Stop button on the control panel.
I expect the klaxon of the alarm, but there’s no sound except his low, firm words: “I have to have you. Right now.”
I can only nod, and instead of a ringing alarm the only sound that fills the car is the metallic scrape of his zipper. His cock is rock hard and perfect, just as I’ve seen it in my mind, and I feel my body clench in time with the chant that is filling my head—yes, yes, yes.
He doesn’t hesitate. There’s nothing uncertain or tentative about him. Instead he closes the distance between us, then runs a finger over my pussy. “You’re wet,” he says. “Hell, you’re soaked.”
“I can’t imagine why,” I retort. Or I try to. I half-swallow the words as he thrusts two fingers inside me.
“More,” I say, but he only shakes his head and continues to finger me.
“I—”
But I don’t finish the thought, because now his hands are on my waist, and he’s lifting me, his strong arms pinning me against the wall. In reflex, I wrap my legs around him, and as his hands slide down to grip me at the hips, the tip of his steel-hard cock presses against my entrance. I whimper, wanting to feel him inside me, my body craving his. Needing him.
I arch my back, searching for a hotter, deeper contact, and at the same time, he slams his hips forward so that I’m impaled on him. He fills me completely, and I cry out from the unexpected intensity. A delicious hint of pain that is soon soothed by the familiar rhythm of a wild, fast fuck.
“That’s it,” he says as I ride him. “Oh, God, you feel incredible.”
My speech is less coherent. My upper back is against the wall, and I’m held in place by his hand on my ass and the hard length of his cock. His other hand provides no support at all. Just the opposite, in fact, since those fingers are teasing my clit, playing me to such perfection that I’m about to spin off him and out into space.
“Come on,” he urges. “Look at me, gorgeous. I want to see those beautiful eyes. I want to watch when you explode. Come on,” he says, his voice as rough as our wild coupling. “Come for me now. Come with me now.”
And, oh dear God, I do. I feel the force of his release, an explosion inside me, and it sends me over the edge. No guilt. No shame. The elevator, the hotel, the whole fucking world disappears in a storm of fire and ice that I don’t ever want to end. For what feels like hours, I tremble in his arms and he holds me tight until finally, finally, we slide to the floor and curl up facing each other.
“Hello, Kitten,” Ryan says.
“Hey, Hunter.” I draw in a deep, satisfied breath as my husband strokes my hair. “I missed you too much.”
“And so you came all the way to London?”
“Yup. Just picked up my phone and made an airline reservation.” I slide my hand down to cup his cock. “I wanted more than just the fantasy of you.”
He chuckles. “And yet you still got to play out the fantasy.”
“I did. Thank you. This was deliciously wicked.” I sigh, satisfied, then narrow my eyes as a question occurs to me. “How did you know it was me? When I came up behind you in the bar. You knew I was there. How?”
“Did you forget why I’m in the hotel in the first place? I had the hotel security feed streaming on my phone. I saw you walk in.”
“Oh.” I lick my lips, liking the idea of him watching me, then playing along the way he did. “I love you,” I say.
“Do you know how magical those words are? I love you, too, Kitten.” He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing as he takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “No one but me, Jamie. Not ever.”
“Never,” I agree. “You’re all I want. Everything I want. Except…”
His brow creases. “Except?”
I flash an impish smile. “Except right now, I want more. Can we go to your room?”
He pulls out his phone. “Put your clothes on, baby, and I’ll turn the cameras and security controls back on.”
“And then?”
“And then I’m going to strip you bare all over again, tie you to the bed, and spend the rest of the night fucking my wife senseless. Assuming that’s okay with her.”
“Yeah,” I say, smiling broadly as I hurry back into my clothes. “That’s perfect.”
Chapter Two
Ryan’s words echo through my head all the way back to the room, making my thighs tingle and my cunt ache. The penthouse suite takes up the entire western end of the hall, and I swear it takes forever to get to the ornate double doors, then even longer for him to get inside with the key card.
By the time the door shuts behind us, my body is throbbing. Yes, he’d taken me in the elevator, but that was hard and fast and part of a game. Now I want more. I want the entire night with no make-believe.
Bottom line? I want Ryan. I want him to fuck away my fears. To completely erase the worry that had sent me running to London in the first place. And he will, too. I’m certain of it. Already I can imagine lying naked and sated in bed, Ryan’s hand on my hip as we face each other, lost in delicious after-sex bliss.
Right now, though, we’re still standing in the tiled entryway. It’s an open floor plan, and I see a powder room off to the left, along with a hall that extends beneath a spiral staircase into mystery territory. There’s a kitchenette to the right, the controls on the wine fridge glowing a soft blue that blends well with the wavy aquamarine light cast by the huge built-in aquarium.
The tank is filled with colorful, exotic fish, and even from this distance I can see the bedroom beyond. I bite back a smile, wondering if there is some sort of blind on the other side of the tank. Or if the fish—and any guests in the living room—are always allowed a watery view of whatever shenanigans might be happening in that room.
There’s a huge flat screen television on the other side of the aquarium, then a stunning built-in bar that, from where I’m standing across the room, seems exceptionally well stocked.
That wall abuts the exterior wall of the penthouse, which is made entirely of glass, allowing for an exceptional view, the centerpiece of which is the London Eye. Ryan crooks his finger, and I follow as he walks that direction. Two of the glass panels pull apart, opening the living area to the balcony, and that’s where we go.