by Lizzy Grey
“Would you like a drink?” he asked breathlessly, glancing at her, then quickly turning away. “Or a cup of tea or coffee? There’s a kettle over there.” The thought of a cup of tea sounded nice but ridiculous at the same time. He was probably asking to avoid any embarrassment but it wasn’t working. She’d clearly done something to agitate him and she simply wanted to get dressed and run. “I don’t know about you, but I’d love a cup of tea.”
“A cup of tea. Yes. Thank you.”
“Good. I won’t be a moment.” He went into the ensuite bathroom, returning a couple of minutes later dressed in a white towelling bathrobe, and laid a second robe across the bottom of the bed for her. He checked the electric kettle for water then switched it on. Reaching for the bathrobe, she slid off the bed and put it on before joining him at the kettle. “Green tea or?” He held the teabag up. “Breakfast tea?”
“Green tea, please.”
“I think I will, too.” He put a teabag into each of the cups. “Milk and sugar?”
“Neither, thank you.”
The kettle clicked off and he poured the water over the teabags, left them to brew for a couple of minutes then lifted the teabags out with a spoon. He stirred the steaming liquid before passing her one of the cups and saucers.
“Thank you.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “I’ll drink this and then I’d better go.”
“Yes, it’s getting late and your friends are waiting.”
“Oh.”
“I saw them in the foyer on our way to the lift,” he explained.
“You’re not—” she began.
“Offended that they came with you and checked me out first?” he finished. “No, not at all. I’m glad they did. You can never be too careful.”
“No.” She took a sip of the scalding tea before putting the cup and saucer on one of the bedside cabinets. It was time to leave. Retrieving her bra and panties from the chair then her shoes and dress from the floor, she got dressed. Straightening up, she glanced at him, but he was standing at the window with his back to her and she reached for her handbag. Bloody hell, could she possibly feel any more uncomfortable? “Simon,” she called and he turned. “Thank you.” Going to him, she reached up and kissed his cheek, feeling him flinch. She quickly backed away, her stomach constricting in mortification.
“Not at all.” He gave her a smile which didn’t reach his eyes. “It was good to meet you, Samantha. Take care of yourself.”
“I will.” Get out, she ordered herself. Just go. Hurrying to the door, she opened it. “You too, Simon.”
Stepping out into the corridor, she closed the door behind her and covered her face with her hands. Like she’d feared, she’d completely freaked him out, but at least The Deed was done.
On the ground floor, she made a trip to the ladies toilets to splash her hot face with cold water before walking out to the foyer. Amanda and Liz ran towards her, almost knocking her over.
“Did you do it?” Amanda asked. “How did it go?”
“Yes,” she replied in as neutral a tone of voice as she could manage. “And it was very nice.”
“Nice?” Liz echoed, both looking and sounding dismayed. “Is that all?”
“Yes,” she added firmly. “Thank you for a lovely birthday present but that is all I am going to tell you.”
“All right. Well, at least that’s over and done with and you’re a ‘woman’ now.”
“Yeah.” She went to follow them out of the hotel but caught sight of Simon walking from the lift to the reception desk and heat flowed into her cheeks again. Something made him glance across the foyer at her and their eyes met for a moment before she turned away and left the hotel.
Chapter Two
A week later, Freya’s parents threw her a huge thirtieth birthday party. On her twenty-ninth, there had been an unspoken fear that she wouldn’t live another year, so they were going all out to make this birthday one to remember.
But all Freya wanted to remember was her unique birthday present from Liz and Amanda – Simon – before she’d freaked him out – his head between her legs, his tongue thoroughly licking and sucking her clit, and the exquisite stretching sensation she had felt as his cock had pushed into and pulled out of her pussy.
“Ready?” Liz asked.
“Hmm?” she replied, turning away from the mirror on the front of her wardrobe.
“You look great. The dress is fantastic.”
“Yes, I’m relieved in a way that I’m still thin so I can wear things like this.” Thanks to her scar, a plunging neckline had been out of the question, so she had chosen a high-necked but sleeveless electric blue velvet long dress. “My boobs even look good, even though no-one can actually see them.”
“You look incredible,” Amanda assured her. “Ready to go to the hotel?”
“Yes. But I wish they’d just booked a table for a good meal. There are going to be people there I hoped I’d never see again.”
They arrived at the central London hotel by cab and Freya found her parents waiting in the foyer. On seeing her, her father’s eyes widened, and her mother shook her head in disapproval.
“That dress, Freya, it’s far too… figure-hugging.”
“Freya looks fantastic, Mrs Thompson.” Liz smiled.
“Yes, I suppose so. Well, we’d better go in, everyone is waiting.”
There were a few gasps at her dress, followed by cheering and clapping, as she walked into the function room in-between her parents. There was her father’s brother, John, and his wife, Evelyn. Beside them was her mother’s brother, George, and his wife Clarissa. And, oh, God, there was Margaret, her mother’s younger sister, who got drunk as soon as she looked at a bottle of wine.
“Freya, darling, you look stunning. And so well, too.”
“Thank you, Auntie Margaret, so do you. Well, I’d better mingle.”
Turning away, she accepted a glass of champagne from a waiter before walking towards Amanda and Liz.
“Shouldn’t you be mingling?” Amanda reminded her.
“Yes, I suppose so. Please rescue me if I’m talking to someone for more than five minutes.”
“Righty-ho, off you go.”
Was Amanda drunk already, Freya wondered, as she crossed the room and spoke to some friends of her parents before moving on to Dr Hassan who had carried out her heart transplant operation. He was delighted to see her looking so well but commented that she was still rather too thin. Putting her empty glass on a waiter’s tray but declining to take another one, she left the function room and walked to the ladies toilets. Leaning on one of the wash hand basins, she scowled at herself in the mirror. She hated mingling and making small talk. In her opinion, if you had nothing constructive to say, just keep quiet until you did.
Leaving the toilets, she collided with a man leaving the gents, and grabbed his arms momentarily to steady herself. “Oh, God, sorry, I was miles away.”
“No problem.” That voice. Looking up, her mouth went dry. It was Simon. “Samantha?”
“Simon,” she said, not knowing how to continue. Who was he here with?
“Are you a friend of Freya’s?” he asked.
“Um, yes, I am.”
“Good. Well, I’m off. Shortest job yet. I’ve just poured my client into a cab. Two glasses of champagne in the foyer and she could barely stand up. We hadn’t even made it to the function room.”
“I’m sorry.”
He smiled. “It’s not your fault that she clearly has a drink problem and wandering hands.”
So, he didn’t like being touched up, did he? Whoever it had been clearly mustn’t have paid extra for the pleasure.
“Shouldn’t you be in there with your friend, mingling with the great and the good?” he asked, nodding towards the function room doors.
Her lip curled. “Yes, but I don’t know half the people in there. I’d much have preferred a birthday dinner in a good restaurant. And I think Freya would, as well,” she added quickly.
“You would
“Don’t you like it?” She watched his eyes travel from her Jimmy Choo’s right up to her hair, only pausing briefly at her breasts.
“You look stunning,” he said simply.
So do you, she told him silently. He was wearing a tuxedo with a peaked lapel, a crisp white shirt, and a black bow tie. It fitted him perfectly, unlike some of the hired tux’s she had seen earlier. “Thank you.”
“Well, I’m a bit redundant here now, so I’ll be on my way.”
“Oh.” Don’t go, she begged him. “Oh, I was thinking of escaping, and maybe going for a walk.”
“A walk?” His eyebrows rose. “In those shoes?”
“A short walk.” Please don’t go. “A very short walk.”
“We could go as far as the Embankment, I suppose. Have a look at the Thames.”
“Sounds good.” Lifting the skirt of her dress, they walked through the foyer, out the front doors, and down the steps to the pavement.
“You’d better give me your arm,” he suggested. “You could break your neck in those heels.”
“Thanks.” Giving him her right arm, she lifted her skirt with her left, and they set off down the street.
Turning a corner at the end of the street, they walked in the direction of the Embankment, a road and river-walk which runs along the north bank of the River Thames. It was a beautiful night, not at all cold, and she savoured his closeness.
“How do you know the birthday girl?” he asked.
“Oh, I, um – we were at school together. She was very good to me while I was ill.”
“Shall we sit down?” He motioned to a bench and they climbed the steps to it before sitting down. “I can’t imagine what you must have gone through.”
“I made a kind of a bucket list in reverse. Things I was going to do if I lived. Number One was getting rid of my virginity.”
“How long were you ill?” he asked. “I mean, most women…”
“…Lose their virginity when they’re still teenagers. I know. But I went to an all-girls boarding school in the middle of nowhere. And even if it had been in central London, I was a swot and not interested in boys back then.” She cringed. “Oh, God, that makes me sound weird, but it was the same at university. I just wanted to knuckle down, get my degree, and then go and get a job and a life. But then I got ill and it just never happened. Thank you for not making it as horrifyingly awkward as I feared it would be,” she lied.
“Not at all,” he replied, and they sat gazing at the city lights sparkling on the river. “What else was on your list?” he added a moment or two later.
“To meet a man I can have a relationship with. To find a job. To move out of Mummy and Daddy’s and into my own apartment. I dreamt of just being able to live a normal life.”
“You will,” he told her softly.
“I hope so.” She gave him a wistful smile. “My friends Liz and Amanda visited me in hospital regularly and told me all about their lives, and whether their relationships were going well or not. They meant well, but I was so jealous of them because I hadn’t had a life or a relationship.”
“You should be back in the hotel meeting a man you can have a relationship with.” He jerked a thumb back in its direction.
“I’d rather not have a relationship with any of the men there, thanks all the same.”
“Are you cold?” he asked, and she noted how he’d changed the subject.
“No, I’m fine, thank you.”
“Tell me if you are and we’ll go back.”
“I don’t need to be wrapped in cotton wool anymore,” she snapped then grimaced. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“No, I shouldn’t have mentioned it. It’s none of my business, and I shouldn’t be here with you.” He got up and went down the steps before turning and holding out a hand. “Let me walk you back to the hotel.” He seemed quite agitated and, reluctantly, she got to her feet. Holding up her skirt, she prepared to go down the steps. “Wait,” he commanded. “You’ll break your neck. I’ll lift you.”
Putting his hands around her waist he lifted her down, but instead of releasing her, he slid his hands up her body over the velvet of her dress. Bending his head, he kissed her, opening her mouth and exploring it with his tongue. He tasted of orange juice and she gripped his upper arms while his hands slid down her back to her bottom, cupping her buttocks in his hands. He pulled her against him and she could feel his cock pressing into her stomach. He was hard, very hard, and her heart began thumping with anticipation and nerves.
“I’m sorry,” he said, breaking off the kiss and letting her go. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll walk you back to the hotel.”
“Walk?” Her eyebrows rose. “With that erection?”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No.” He groaned. “I’m not.” Taking her hand, he pressed the palm against the huge bulge in his trousers. “See what you do to me.”
She met his eyes, then lowered her own to where she was touching him. Extracting her hand, she opened his trousers and lowered them and his boxer shorts. Lifting his cock, she curled her fingers around it, and they both watched as it twitched in her hand. Running her fingers along the magnificent hardness, she began to stroke him.
“Oh, God,” he ground out, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against hers. “Oh, fuck, Samantha. I have to – I must—”
Turning away, he almost tripped on the steps up to the bench. He managed to climb the first step before groaning and continuing up onto the second step.
“Simon?” She turned him back to face her and she stared at his cock. It was huge. Should she? Yes. Bending forward, she touched the head with the tip of her tongue, but that was it. He spun away from her, jerking then leaning heavily on the back of the bench before moving along to the end and sinking down onto it. Gasping for air, he pulled his boxer shorts and trousers up, then did up the zip and button.
“I’m taking you back to the hotel,” he told her. “Before we’re arrested.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No.” He shook his head and got up. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one with no bloody self-control.”
He came down the steps, she grabbed her skirt as he took her arm and she tottered beside him as they walked quickly back in the direction of the hotel. They were walking far too fast and in the darkness between two lamp posts, she stumbled and almost fell.
“Samantha? Shit. Are you all right?”
“Yes. Can we just have a rest for a moment?”
“Yes, of course, we can.” He put an arm around her waist and she leant against him.
“I haven’t quite progressed to jogging in heels yet.”
“No, I’m sorry.” He slid a hand up her body to support her and she felt him cup one of her breasts through the velvet before he turned her and she rested back against a wall as he smoothed his fingers across both of her breasts. She found herself holding her breath, willing him never to stop. “God, what the hell are you doing to me?” he murmured.
“Kiss me?” she whispered.
Clasping her cheeks in his hands, he tilted her face upwards and pulled at her lips with his. Sliding his hands down her body, he began easing her dress up until it was around her waist. His hands then began to explore, discovering her stay-up stockings and her thong. He thrust a hand between her legs and she opened them. Pulling the thong to one side, he eased a finger into her pussy and she sucked in a breath when he inserted another and began to rub his thumb in a circular motion over her clit. Her hips automatically moved to meet his fingers and she began to moan. He kissed her – to quieten her – she realised, but she couldn’t help crying out and jerking against his fingers a moment later.
He had to hold her upright, repeatedly kissing her lips and face, until she could lean back against the wall again without worrying she was going to slide down it.
“Are you staying at the hotel?” he asked hoarsely.
“No.”
“Then, I’ll have to book a room.”
“You can’t, it costs a fortune, and it’s probably full anyway.”
“Well, I’ll ask, because if I don’t fuck you.” Taking her hands, he pulled her into an upright position. “Are you all right? Can you walk?”
“Yes.” She righted her thong and let her dress fall from her waist. “Can you?”
“Just about.”
They returned to the hotel in complete silence and he led her inside through the kitchens at the rear. He’s done this before, she thought but didn’t care. Waiting in a storeroom while he went to the reception desk, she wondered if anyone was looking for her but, again, she didn’t care. He wanted her, and her stomach clenched with exhilaration.
Ten minutes passed before he returned to her. “I’ve persuaded them to let us have a room for two hours. It’s on the third floor.”
“All right.”
“We’ll take the service lift, come on.”
Leading her along a corridor, they went into the lift and he pressed the button for the third floor. The doors closed and the lift clanked its way upwards until it stopped, gave a little judder and the doors opened again.
“Number 325,” he muttered and they walked down the corridor until he stopped, inserted the keycard into the slot, and the door swung open. “Not beige, thank fuck.”
It was a lovely room, deep red was the predominant colour, and the bed was huge. The door closed behind her, and he put the key card on a table before turning to look at her.
“I’ll say it again if you don’t want to stay just say.”
“I want to stay,” she told him and he gave her a relieved little nod.
“What else are you wearing under the dress?”
“Undress me and find out.”
He stood behind her and slowly lowered the zip. The dress fell to the floor and she stepped out of it. His lips parted, taking in her blue high-heeled shoes, blue stay-up stockings, blue thong, and blue bra.
“I need to hang this up.” She picked up the dress and retrieved a hanger from a wardrobe. Hanging the dress on the front of the wardrobe, she turned to face him. He was standing in the middle of the floor just staring at her. “What is it?”
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