Hotel O

by Clarissa Wild

  My eyes glide over his body, and his glide over mine. His face is also hidden behind a mask.

  He’s tall, and his hair is thick and dark, just like his voice when he says, “Hello, Kitten …”

  I’m struck with awe at the sound of his voice. It’s real. It’s him.

  That same shiver runs up and down my spine as he approaches me slowly.

  In a split second, images of violence flash through my mind. All the possible things that could happen. All the things he could do to me.

  We’re alone, in a hotel room, and neither of us know each other by name.

  He could do anything he wanted.

  Take me. Use me. Lock me up.

  Kill me.

  And no one would ever know it was him.

  The perfect setting for the perfect crime.

  Yet I’m not afraid of him.

  I’m only afraid of my own reaction to what’s about to go down.

  Meeting him was the only thing I wanted, and now that it’s finally happening, I wonder if it’ll be enough. If I can satiate my needs without crossing the line.

  He comes even closer, but I don’t move an inch. I don’t know if it’s because I’m scared, or if it’s because my body feels as if it’s made of rocks and ice.

  I shudder when he stands across from the bed, leans against the dresser, and casually slides his eyes from the tips of my toes hidden in black heels all the way up to my high ponytail without any shame.

  His tongue dips out to wet his lips, and for a second there, I wish he licked mine instead.

  He cocks his head. “So this is what you want?”

  I nod and part my lips to say something, but nothing springs to mind. Nothing important … except for the fact I want him to fuck me raw.

  Instinctively, my eyes draw to his pants and the package hiding underneath.

  I swallow away the lump in my throat at the thought of finally touching him.

  “Take off your coat,” he says sternly.

  It slides off my shoulders with ease, exposing my black, partially see-through lingerie.

  “Now part your legs.”

  I await his next command with a buzzing feeling between my legs as they nudge aside, allowing him a full view.

  A hint of a smile twitches his lips, but it disappears as quickly as it came.

  “Take off your panties.”

  My heart beats like a drum as I push down the fabric and let it slip to the floor. He can see every inch of my pussy laid bare for him. And from the slight sparkle in his eyes, I can tell he likes it.

  He sits down on the chair in the corner with broad legs and a swagger that tickles all my senses. With his elbow leaning on the armrest, he supports his face with two fingers, gazing at me like a hawk.

  “Tell me, are you already wet?” he asks.

  God, I could die for that voice.

  Kill just to hear it again.

  “Yes.” My voice is soft, almost inaudible. As if my throat’s shutting down because I’m nervous.

  But the smirk spreading on his face makes me forget all that.

  “Make it wetter. Touch yourself,” he says.

  I swallow and place my fingers right in the center of my slit, circling slowly, as I anticipate him coming toward me. But the longer I play with myself, the more he sits back and relaxes. He’s watching me intently, checking out how I do it, and I wonder if it’s because he wants to know how I like it so he can do it himself.

  However, his hand draws my attention the moment it moves down.

  Unzips his pants.

  Pulls out his already hard cock.

  My mouth salivates greedily.

  He went commando. How appropriate.

  “Go on … Show me how much you want this,” he muses.

  I do what he says, circling around my clit with two fingers to get myself all hot and bothered. I admit, it’s hard to resist the pull, but I have to stay here on this bed. This is what he wants. This is what we agreed to when we started talking.

  He’s in control.

  It’s the one rule I know I shouldn’t break if I want him to fuck me, so I’ll do whatever he says.

  Is it foolish? Maybe. But I’m enjoying myself enough not to walk away.

  Not that I ever could with a dick like that staring right back at me. The exact same one I saw in the pictures and the video … so there’s no mistaking now. It’s really him, in the flesh, right across from me.

  I wish I could taste him.

  Fuck.

  He’s stroking it so nicely. Slowly, but with a tough grip, as if he wants to do more but is holding back intentionally just to relish the view a little longer.

  And I must admit … toying with myself like this right in front of him does make my face warm. As if he’s caught me in the act and I’m still doing it because I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.

  He cocks his head and stares me right in the eyes. I don’t notice right away because my eyes are glued to his cock.

  “You want this?” he asks, his tongue briefly dipping out again. “Say it.”

  “I want it,” I say.

  Ripples of shame flow through me when I hear my own voice say that. It feels sinful. Wrong. But in a fucking good way.

  “What?” he says, a devious grin spreading on his lips.

  “I want your cock,” I say, swallowing as I speak the words.

  God, I feel so filthy. But I’m guessing that’s exactly what he wants. To humiliate me.

  “Show me then. Turn around on the bed.”

  As strange as his command sounds, I still do it.

  “On your knees. Head down. Ass up.”

  When I’m in position, I’m staring at the blanket. I can’t even see him anymore, and I’m not sure if I hate it or if I’m just so fucking thirsty for his cock.

  “Spread your legs,” he adds.

  When I do what he says, my pussy is on full display.

  Literally. All he can see is my ass … and all my openings wide.

  While my face is smooshed into the bed, I don’t even know what he’s doing, but I bet I know what he’s looking at.

  Me. Spread like a fuck doll for him to use.

  “Go on then … make yourself come,” he says.

  For a moment, I’m a dumbfounded. He wants me to play with myself … in this position? How?

  “Do you want this or not?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I reply.

  “Come for me then … and maybe I’ll give it to you.”

  I lick my lips and bury my hand between my legs. My head sinks even farther into the fabric as my hand wriggles its way to my pussy. The position is tough and difficult to maintain. Exactly why he chose it.

  He’s testing my limits, I’m sure of it.

  But what about the rest of this meeting? Is all this a test?

  If I don’t meet his demands, will he walk out on me?

  Is this a way for him to see if I’m up for more?

  If I’m good enough for his needs?

  Questions flood my mind, but I push them aside and focus on the here and now. His gentle moans guide me as I flick my clit, knowing he’s watching my every move.

  The more I struggle, the more my legs begin to quiver, but I’m not giving up. His moans grow louder, the sound titillating me to the point that I’m getting wetter and wetter. Or maybe it’s because I know someone’s watching me fuck myself.

  Because my fingers are dipping in right now, and I can’t help but moan along.

  “Yes, Kitten. Be a fucking slut for me.”

  His dirty words only turn me on even more.

  I’m struggling to breathe as I dive deeper and deeper into a state of sexual consciousness. Where nothing else matters but my fingers and the anticipation of his dick thrusting into me.

  And as the last of his groans roll off his tongue, I release myself from my lust.

  Delicious orgasmic waves fill my body, and I moan out loud to let it out. I don’t even give a fuck that he’s listening to me comi
ng undone. That I’m probably dripping on the bed right about now.

  Suddenly, he grips my ass, his firm hands pulling me out of ecstasy and into the here and now. His tip rests at my entrance, condom and all. I didn’t even hear him put it on.

  “Spread those lips for me,” he murmurs, grasping my ass cheeks and pushing them apart. I can practically feel his gaze on my naked skin.

  That’s when he pushes in.

  Slowly … deeply … all the way to the base.

  I suck in a breath and hold it as he sinks in and stays there, like he’s making me his. Like he’s marking me. Like he wants me to remember how I begged for his cock.

  When he pulls out again, I almost want to start begging again.

  One second passes when I can breathe, then he thrusts into me once more, this time with a little bit more fervor. I bury my face in the sheets and bite down, delirious on lust. Each thrust of his cock brings me closer to bliss. And for a moment, I wish I could have this forever.

  But I know once he’s had his fill—once he walks out this door—it’ll be the end of everything we’ve done together. And that makes me want to hold on, as sad as that sounds.

  Because right now, I’m letting a stranger I met online fuck me. Someone I don’t even know I can trust. Hell, he could be bad. My life could be in danger right now.

  But none of that even matters to me.

  All I can think about is him and me.

  Together … at this moment … two strangers fucking each other into oblivion.

  And when he slams into me with full force, I cry out with passion.

  I don’t want it to stop.

  But as I unleash my moans, so does he. And his cock starts to pulse along with it, releasing its seed deep inside me.

  When he pulls out, I wish I could get a redo.

  Another try. Another time. A rain check for another fabulous night.

  But as I roll onto my side and watch him stagger back, away from me, I realize that’s not going to be an option. This was a one-night thing. One time only.

  I was the one who asked for it. He agreed.

  And asking for anything more wouldn’t be right.

  So I remain on the bed, breathing slowly as I try to come to terms with what happened. All while he chucks the condom into the bin, zips up again, and walks out the door.

  Minutes pass. He’s not coming back.

  He never said goodbye. Didn’t even say a word.

  I suppose it’s what I should have expected.

  After all, he wasn’t here for small talk. He was here to fuck.

  It’s what I wanted. What I asked for. What he agreed to.

  I slide off the bed and gather my panties while looking around. The room is back to normal … or maybe it never changed.

  My body is still vibrating, and the mask is barely intact. I take it off and look at myself in the mirror in the bathroom. My hair is half undone, and my face is red and puffy.

  Apart from that, I don’t look any different. Even though I feel completely new.

  As if I’ve made a life-altering decision and took the path of no return.

  I gleefully smile to myself.

  I never wanna look back.

  Chapter 7

  Declan

  I sit down at my desk and open my laptop. Another day, another time to work.

  My inbox is full of unanswered emails from yesterday. Clients with questions. Co-workers with last-minute changes to the décor or the props. My boss asking about the next event. And maybe a couple from Sarah too.

  Nothing unusual.

  Which is strange.

  Because I feel unusual.

  I sigh and sit back in my chair, staring at the laptop. I’ve been anxious to get back to work ever since I got home last night. Nothing’s better to freshen up your memory than focusing on what’s important in life.

  If you can actually manage to reset your mind.

  For some reason, I find that very hard to do. Because right now, she’s the only thing I can think about. That girl and that amazing pussy I fucked in that hotel room last night.

  It was as sinful as I imagined it to be. Two strangers fucking like there was no tomorrow even if there was.

  I’m there now, and it still feels as though I’m floating on a cloud.

  Why do I feel this way?

  I’ve never actually had second thoughts about exiting right after getting some booty. But I almost feel guilty for leaving her there.

  Why her? Why out of all people?

  It doesn’t make any sense.

  I grasp a pencil and scribble down the rules again.

  One: Never expose your real identity.

  Two: Don’t meet up more than once.

  Three: Cut it off before she falls in love.

  I stick it in front of me on my laptop to remind myself of what I’m not allowed to do. It’s for a good cause, after all. No use in trying to become the boss if I’m hooked on a girl. And I’m not about to jeopardize my career over some silly …

  Fucking …

  Kitten.

  No. Not anymore.

  I lick my lips and try to focus on the emails in front of me, but no matter how many times I try to finish at least one, I keep re-reading the lines. I don’t even know what I’m reading or who’s asking what. All I can think about is how beautiful she looked with her brown hair swooping down in a high ponytail, accompanied by that smirk. And that she did everything I asked.

  It was perfect. Too perfect.

  Out of nowhere, the pencil snaps.

  For a second, I’m fazed. Then I pick up the pieces from my desk and chuck them in the trash, grumbling.

  Goddammit. I have work to do. Instead, I’m wasting time thinking about a random girl I just fucked. But that’s just it, isn’t it? She isn’t some random girl.

  She’s the first one to get under my skin like that.

  And I don’t like it one bit.

  I open the browser and go to the chat website. When I find her, I immediately block her, then close the chat.

  There. It’s done. Now I won’t be tempted to fuck her anymore. Or do anything else with her, for that matter. I’m not relationship material anyway.

  It’s for the best.

  Kat

  With an apple pie I bought at the supermarket, because I’m horrible at baking, I walk up to the house and ring the doorbell. Melvin opens the door almost immediately, greeting me with a smile. “Miss Mayer, what a delight. Come in,” he says, opening the door farther. “Let me take your coat.”

  “Thanks, Melvin,” I say. “Am I late?”

  “Fashionably,” he replies with a smile. “But don’t worry, I told them your boss was keeping you at work.” He winks. It’s a total lie because I never called him or my parents, but I love it. He’s always protected me; it doesn’t matter that I’m not a little kid anymore.

  I kiss him on the cheeks, and say, “Missed you.”

  We exchange smiles, and I go into the dining room where Mom and Dad are already sitting at the table. The moment I come into view, their faces go rigid and cold. Here it comes.

  “Finally,” Mom says.

  “Sorry,” I say, approaching her to give her a soft kiss on the cheeks. “Work.”

  I laugh it off as if it’s no big deal even though it’s not true. But admitting to her that Melvin lied for me would get him into trouble. Not to mention, she’ll be twice as pissed off at me for going with it.

  I take my seat as Melvin comes in to bring us some water and wine. “Dinner will be ready shortly,” he says, pouring it into the glasses before leaving again.

  It’s awkwardly quiet at the table. Dad’s staring at his phone while Mom’s fiddling with the cutlery, adjusting them so they’re aligned perfectly.

  “So how are you?” I ask to break the ice.

  She briefly looks up at me, smiles, then says, “Fine, fine.”

  “Dad?” I mutter, cocking my head to see if I can make him glance up from his phone.

&n
bsp; “Yes, yes. Busy.” He lets out a small laugh. “You know … work.”

  I nod, rubbing my lips together.

  This is how it usually goes. Dad can’t take his eyes off the business, and Mom’s aloof as ever. It’s as if they’re purposely hiding from me, yet at the same time, they want to keep me under their thumb.

  Melvin comes in with the dishes, placing them on the table one by one, and then excuses himself after a bon appetite. To this day, I keep having the urge to invite him to sit down, but my parents wouldn’t accept it, I’m sure of it. They prefer the distance even though he’s been with us—them—for more than twenty years. They’d say his hard work is rewarded with a lucrative salary, but I feel like they could show a little humility every now and then.

  Not that it’s something I could ever bring up with my parents without causing an argument, which is definitely not something I’m looking to do right now. I’d rather not end every visit with a fight.

  “Well,” Dad suddenly says, putting his phone down. “Let’s eat.”

  I pick up my fork and knife and gladly cut into the meat, stuffing it into my mouth. God, I love Melvin’s steak and beans. It’s the perfect combination of salty and sweet.

  “So … how’s work?” Mom asks, putting extra emphasis on the word “work” as if it’s some kind of fake job.

  “Great,” I reply.

  She takes a small bite. “Earning enough?”

  Here we go again. “Yes, actually. I’m very happy.” I take another bite, trying to enjoy the taste instead.

  “Really?” She looks up at me. “But you’re still in that small house?”

  “Yes,” I say, wanting to roll my eyes. “I like small.”

  “Okay …” Mom takes a breath and bites down on her steak. “So you’re not looking to upgrade?”

  “Mom, I’m happy with my job.”

  “They caused you to be late.”

  “No, that was my fault.”

  She frowns. “So you forgot?”

  “No, Mom. I’m sorry.” I sigh. “I sometimes get a bit overenthusiastic. It happens. But I wouldn’t want to miss dinner with you guys.” I place a hand on her shoulder and smile. “I love you.”

  “We love you too, honey,” Dad says as he stuffs the steak into his mouth.