I feel his other hand traveling around my waist, his fingers searching for the zipper, I think. Then I hear the slow purr as it inches down, and my skirt falls in a puddle around my feet. He travels down my body, his hands sending sparks across my skin as they skate across my sheer tights. He lifts an ankle, and then the other, so he can toss the skirt onto a chair beside us.
“You forgot your panties, Weaver,” he says, discovering me naked beneath my tights.
“I didn’t forget,” I reply. “I remembered you have a pair.”
My eyes find that carriage again in Central Park, and I see it’s coming back to the handsome cab stand. How long have I been standing here? I’ve lost track.
“Turn around,” he says. I turn hesitantly, self-conscious in just my tights and sweater. The sweater’s shape covers my hips at the side, but in front, it sits just above my bellybutton, leaving my bare pussy exposed. I imagine it’s not the sexist look, but from the hunger in Chris’s eyes, I immediately realize I’m wrong. He presses his open hand against me, his palm applying pressure to my pussy, and I can feel myself pulsing against him. He uses those magic fingers again to trace up and down my seam, and his fingers against the nylon on my skin feel like tiny bubbles, growing bigger and bigger until they pop, sending pleasure spiraling through my body. He continues playing like this, and I spread my legs wider, wanting more contact, a harder touch. I lean back into the window and the cold glass against my ass shocks me and reminds me I’m on display for the city below. But before I can suggest we move over to the bed, Chris hikes up my leg, resting my foot on the window’s ledge. I feel his finger, moving over me, and then I feel the fullness of his finger stretching the nylon, inching inside me. The friction from my tights over his finger is thrilling, and my toes curl as he pumps inside me.
“You’ve soaked through these tights,” he says huskily. He pulses his finger slowly inside me, and then he takes it out, dragging up, and skirting around my clit, swollen and straining under my tights. He surprises me then, and drops to his knees, pressing his lips against me and moaning with appreciation. “Fuuuck Weaver, you smell so good.” Sparks fly through me as I feel his tongue rasping over me, and both of my hands fly to his head, trying to hold steady, trying to keep his head exactly there. I’m abandoning any restraint now, moaning as he leaves a trail of heat over my pussy. The city behind me can watch, I don’t care. I need his mouth closer, his tongue faster. He’s winding me tighter and tighter and I have only one objective, to come.
His hand moves up my tummy and rests on my breast. He kneads me, not gently, but not too rough, not yet. His tongue is flattened over me and moves up and down. My orgasm builds slowly, but I know the barrier from my tights won’t allow me to come. It’s just not enough contact. “Mmmmm,” he moans, and I can’t help it, I pull his hair and force him to his feet, walk him backwards to the bed until he bumps up against it, and then I push him down, so he’s sitting on the edge. I take off my shoes before climbing on to the bed, and I settle myself in his lap. As soon as I sit, I feel his hard cock between us, and I grind on him, giving him a taste of his own medicine. He thrusts up into me and tries to roll me over, but I put my weight onto him, keeping him upright. It’s been years since the days of dry humping in my mother’s basement, but this tease has it coming.
I shift my hips up and down in short motions, until finally I feel his length positioned against my wet seam. I ride him slowly, enjoying the pressure from his cock and the fabric on his fly. I know I could get off life this, with me in control. I reach for my sweater and strip it off. Chris’s hands are on my breasts instantly, roughly pulling down my bra cups and latching onto my nipple.
“Don’t stop moving,” he whispers. “Just like that.” Chris’s hands are on my breasts, roughly pulling down my bra cups and latching onto my nipple. He sucks hard and I jolt up, his tongue swirling around and around until my nipple is painfully hard. He switches to the other nipple and I reach between us, trying to open the buttons of his shirt so I can feel his smooth skin. I manage to open one, and I play with his nipple, a new burst of moisture between my legs as I hear him wince and then thrust against me harder. I unbutton the rest of his shirt and push it off his shoulders, making sure to drag my nails over his smooth skin, hard enough that I see red marks blooming behind. His breath is coming faster now. His fingers are digging into my ass. When he tries to roll me over again, I let him. I want him to take control.
He pins me underneath him, hiking up my leg and settling between me. His hand is fumbling with his belt and fly. He sits up to take down his pants and boxers, and then he stops. “Remember when I said I was going to take my time?” he asks. I nod. “I changed my mind.”
He reaches down and tugs at the crotch of my tights. I hear a tear and feel his fingers, finally, sliding over my bare skin. He thrusts two fingers inside me, and I’m so wet there’s not a bit of resistance. He crooks them, sweeping against my g-spot. My eyes shut as I sink into the sensation, his fingers deftly working inside me, a thumb now applying steady pressure on my clit, moving it from side to side. I hear Chris’s bursts of breath and open my eyes to watch him. He has his rigid cock in his hand, stroking the head and looking down at me. “You’re so wet. You’re so ready for me, aren’t you?” he asks between gritted teeth, and each word he punctuates by thrusting his fingers inside me. He takes my ankle and lifts it up, kissing the side of my foot and down behind my knee over my tights. He rests it on his shoulder and takes my hips, quickly pulling me down to him. Holding his cock, he rubs it over my pussy, and I see the muscles in his chest jump. Up and down he rubs his cock, nudging my clit every time he reaches the top until I’m hungry for it, and I start to moan and beg. “Fuck me now,” I say, lifting myself on my elbows to watch between my legs. “I want to feel you inside me.”
He stops moving his cock and holds it still at my entrance. “Say it again,” he says.
“I want to feel you inside me. I want to feel you everywhere. I want you to fuck me now,” I’m practically chanting, my head is swimming with the feeling of him so close, so close to filling me up, to moving inside me. I reach up and rub my hand over the light hair on his tummy. Then I lick my finger and reach down, reaching around my torn tights and finding my clit. As soon as I touch it, I jerk, it’s so sensitive. With the softest touch, I rub, in small circles. My hips dip down and back up, and Chris’s cock is moving with my motions. His grip on my hips tightens and he hisses in a breath, shooting back his head so he looks up at the ceiling. I shift my hips again, and the head of his cock rubs against my finger. It’s the last straw; he plunges into me, filling me up with his entire length at once, stretching me exquisitely.
“Like that?” he grunts, pulling out, and then slamming into me again. He stills for a moment, bringing his lips to my ankle and moaning against it. Then he starts rocking, and it’s slow and I feel it everywhere. I want to watch as his dick disappears inside me, but the feeling is too good, and my head falls back against the pillows. The pace is incredible, and he has me stretched so wide that I feel every ridge, every pulsing vein dragging against me. I want him to lose control, to pound into me, to come calling out my name, but his patience is incredible, and he continues steadily, excruciatingly slow, leaving a trail of exploding pleasure behind. I can feel a fresh burst of moisture inside me, and I clench down, chasing the trace of an orgasm that’s just within my reach.
He reacts urgently to the change and lifts my other ankle to his shoulder. His breath is straining, and he breathes out “Yes, yes, yes.” He’s increasing his speed and now leaning over me, his hand by my shoulder and his face hovering just an inch above mine.
“Does this feel good?” he asks against my lips, and I stare into his eyes, practically hypnotized. There’s no reason to reply because he knows. He knows this is the best I’ve ever had. I’m practically folded in half, his full weight against me, and with every move he’s riding my clit, a steady, mounting pressure grows. “I want to make you feel good, Weaver. You
feel so fucking amazing on me. I couldn’t stop thinking about this pussy, and now that you’re here…” He trails off and drops his forehead against mine. I can hear every noise he makes. He’s moaning as he pulls out and plows back in, and I can tell he won’t last much longer. His tongue slips into my mouth, and our teeth gnash as we both tumble closer, the intensity growing, the feeling barreling toward us. “I want you to come with me,” he says. His mouth leaves mine and lands on my breasts, swirling his tongue around my nipple and creating a circuit of pleasure that send shockwaves through me. He looks up at me with a sly grin and says, “So that’s gonna do it?” I feel like I’m floating, in a hundred different pieces, and I focus on his face, the exertion and strain in his eyes, and then he hits a rhythm on my clit that tells me this is it, this is the one to follow. And all those pieces of me come into sharp focus. I’m riding this wave that won’t stop. And I want to tell him, tell him that I’m coming, but I can’t speak. But he can feel it. “There you go baby, there you go. Come for me. Let me feel it,” he says, and I do. I explode. My head thrashes from side to side on the pillow and the city lights come in and out of view in the window. I feel Chris pull out, and then he’s silent for a second, his face strained as the first spurts of cum shoot onto my pussy. I feel hot cum seep through my tights, onto my bare skin beneath. His groan fills the room. His face is illuminated by the moonlight, his chest covered in a layer of perspiration, and his hand is stroking the last drops from his dick and the aftershocks send him crashing onto the bed beside me.
I wake up to sun streaming through the hotel window. I love a hotel bed. The fine quality white sheets, the abundant pillows, the man next to me in bed. I move my arms all around me. Fine sheets? Check. Pillows? Check,check,check,check. The man? Missing. I sit up and look around. He’s not here. My heart drops.
I wrap the sheet around my body and walk to the bathroom. The mirror is foggy and the air smells like body wash. I rub my hand over the mirror to see my reflection. I look thoroughly used and sated. I instinctively slide my hand down my tummy and rest it between my legs. Memories of last night flood me and I start laughing to myself. Dates are pretty awesome.
I startle when I hear the door close outside. “Weaver?” Chris’s voice calls out.
“In here,” I call back, and step out of the bathroom. Chris has two cups of coffee and a small pastry bag in his hands. He places them beside the bed. He’s dressed in a dark navy suit, and I see his briefcase is set by the front door. I slide back into bed because I have some time before I need to meet Kate, and I’m not a morning person like Chris clearly is.
He leans down and kisses me, and as he pulls away my lips follow his, disappointed he can’t join me in bed. “I have an early meeting. I was hoping I wouldn’t wake you,” he says caressing the side of my face before turning toward his coffee and taking a sip. “I brought you this,” he says, pointing to the second cup. “And that’s a doughnut. I figured you be hungry this morning.” He winks at me.
“Hey,” I say, seriously. “Come here.”
“Nah ah ah,” he says shaking his finger at me. “I know exactly what will happen if I get in bed with you and it won’t be good for my business or reputation.”
I throw the sheet off me exposing my naked body to the sunlight. I definitely have his attention now. “Weaver,” he says, a warning in his voice. “Play fair.”
I stretch my body from head to toes on the bed, and then touch my breasts, rubbing them slowly. I run my hands down my body, past my tummy, and bring them to rest at my belly button. Chris’s eyes are laser-focused on my hands, and he’s completely forgotten about his coffee now.
“All I’m asking is for you to sit with me for a minute so we can talk. If you sit down, I promise these hands won’t move an inch. Cross my heart,” I say, drawing an X over my left breast.
Chris doesn’t look convinced, but he comes over and sits at the side of the bed. His hands folded in his lap. “I really do have to go to work, Weaver. I promise I don’t want to but…”
I stop him. “I’d love for you to get back in bed with me, but I don’t have the time either,” I say, pulling the sheet up and over me to let him know I’m serious. “I just wanted to say thank you. Last night was amazing. I haven’t been on a date in ages, and last night was perfect,” I say. “Actually, I could have done without the detour in the bar, but everything before and after…especially after, was special.”
“You’re welcome,” he says, taking my hands in his and kissing them. “Let me tell you, though, you haven’t seen anything yet. I have plans for us, baby.”
“What, like the girlfriend treatment Chris? Oh la la,” I jest, but he gets a weird expression on his face and I instantly regret so casually throwing out that word: girlfriend. “It’s just a joke,” I say quickly. “Why do you look so serious?”
He leans down and kisses me, and I feel it turning into something neither of us has time for. “It just seriously turns me on to hear you call yourself my girlfriend. I like it. That’s all. Say it again.”
“I’m your girlfriend,” I purr, trying to be extra sexy.
“I like it,” he says. He stands and grabs his coffee and briefcase and heads toward the door. Before he opens it, he turns back to me. “I’ll be back at five. Can you be here, wearing exactly that, when I return? I left the extra key by the bed.”
I get up on my knees, letting the sheet fall off of me, and salute him. “Aye, aye Captain Boyfriend. I’ll be right here.”
His eyes drag over me slowly, before he lets out a slow breath. “This day better fly,” he says as the door closes behind him.
As soon as Chris leaves, I hop out of bed and jump in the shower. As much as I’d like to enjoy the morning, lounging in a plush bathrobe in the Plaza Hotel, I have plans with Kate. As I zip myself back into my skirt, and stuff my stained tights in my purse, I try to make myself presentable in the mirror. This outfit doesn’t necessarily scream Walk of Shame, but really, I wouldn’t even care. Boyfriend. Girlfriend. Dating. Those words zip around my head and fuel me as I brush my teeth and comb my knotted hair. Even though Kate’s distrustful of Chris, I can’t wait to tell her all about last night. Sure, I’ll need to politely listen to all the latest truffle news from Arkansas first, but I’m sure Kate will share my excitement.
One final glance in the mirror and I’m ready to hit the freezing city streets for my trip uptown. But then there’s a knock at the door. I consider ignoring it, but whoever’s on the other side is persistent. As soon as I open the door, I regret it. It’s Ryan, Chris’s brother.
“Well hello, hello,” he says, laughter in his voice. “You weren’t what I was expecting. Is my brother here?” he asks, already walking into the room. I stay at the door and hold it open. I have to leave, and I also don’t trust this guy as far as I can throw him.
“You just missed him,” I say, not moving an inch. “He left for a meeting about twenty minutes ago.”
Ryan doesn’t acknowledge me at all. He walks around the room slowly, looking at the messy bed, peeking out the window. I’m holding my breath hoping he won’t sit down.
“I thought we could share a cab to the meeting. I didn’t realize that you two…” he gestures to the bed and then nods slowly, almost like he’s giving me his approval. “So how exactly do you two know each other? I didn’t exactly catch the entire story last night.”
My stomach lurches and all I want to do is get away from him. I won’t leave him behind in Chris’s room, though. “Mutual friends from Paris,” I say curtly.
“And where exactly was it that you said you worked?” He’s staring out the window so he can’t see my impatience, but I don’t think he’d pick up on the body language anyway. How many hints does this asshole need?
“I’d love to chat, but I have someplace I need to be. If you don’t mind…” I cough, and that gets his attention. When he turns to me, I sweep my hand out toward the hallway. “Please?”
“I’ve gotta run, too. If Chris left tw
enty minutes ago, I guess that means I’m late.” He finally walks out the door and I follow him, closing the door and double checking that it locked automatically behind me. But shit, we head in the same direction, toward the elevators, and even though I’m cutting it close now to meet Kate, I am not getting in an elevator with Ryan. The guy gives me the creeps. So as soon as the elevator arrives, I pretend I’ve left something in the room and scoot back down the hall. Luckily, he doesn’t insist on waiting for me, so when I hear the elevator doors close, I head back and hit the call button.
I can’t tell if I’m being paranoid or not, but Chris’s brother seems to have it in for me.
13
Chris
I barely participate in that meeting at all. A few smartly placed nods and comments hide the fact that my mind is elsewhere. At the Plaza Hotel, imagining Weaver waiting for me naked in my bed. I meant what I told her this morning; this is just the beginning. I promised myself that if she accepted me, that if she wanted me, I would make her my first priority. A woman like her doesn’t come around often, and after I thought I lost her once, I’m not going to let that happen again. I can’t change my life completely; I’ll still need to travel a lot, but I have enough flexibility and money that I plan to devote myself to making Weaver the happiest she’s ever been.
The Billionaire’s CamGirl Page 11