Hotel O

by Clarissa Wild

  I gaze at the laptop and touch the keypads with my fingertips, imagining him typing dirty words. I can see it in my mind … Him sitting here with his fly undone and his hand in his trousers while he bites his lip.

  And me, on the other end of the connection, eagerly awaiting his next command.

  God, what I wouldn’t give for another round.

  Suddenly, the door opens.

  I scramble to get up from the seat, almost tumbling over on my feet.

  A suited man with thick, dark hair, and those same full lips steps in. Declan.

  Chapter 9

  Declan

  When I returned from a talk with Sarah about the event, and how one of the girls had given us a notice that she was going to cancel the contract, I was expecting to have my office to myself so I could figure out a plan for the missing girl.

  Instead, one of them is sitting in my chair right this very moment.

  I never requested for anyone to come up. Why is she here?

  When she spots me, she immediately jumps up from my seat and bumbles about the room, trying not to make a fool out of herself … even though she is. I cock my head as I watch her collect herself, wondering what in the ever-living shit is going on.

  “Um … hi,” she says, her voice giggly and a little agitated, but cute.

  “Hello,” I say, licking my lips.

  “Sorry, I was just …” She doesn’t seem at all certain of what she’s saying, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s trying to make something up on the spot or if she’s momentarily fazed.

  “The bellhop sent me up,” she says, smiling awkwardly.

  I frown. The bellhop? Wait … could she be a replacement? Sarah said she’d already contacted one of the agencies with a last-minute request, but I didn’t think they’d come up with a new girl this quickly. Especially not considering the amount of … discretion we require.

  She stands near my bookshelf, still smiling, as if she’s waiting for me to do something. So I stroll to my desk and sit down on the still warm seat. My fingers glide along the laptop, which she clearly touched, judging by the single strand of brown hair resting on the keys.

  “So … you’re the replacement girl, I suppose?” I muse.

  “Replacement? Um, yes,” she says, making me narrow my eyes.

  She seems rather unsure of her answer. Maybe she wasn’t briefed properly on her tasks. Or maybe the bellhop sent up the wrong girl. Only one way to find out.

  “Okay then.” Biting my lip, I grab the form and scoot it toward the front of the desk along with a pen. “Read this and sign it, please.”

  She approaches the desk, hesitantly sitting down. She picks up the pen and glares at the document, but she can’t help but throw glances at me every now and then. I wonder why. I don’t think I’ve ever had a girl in my office who was this nervous about the job. Then again, she did show up rather unexpectedly, and it’s thrown me off balance too. She looks rather familiar, but I can’t put my finger on exactly why that is.

  All I know is that she’s hovering over first name without actually writing anything down.

  “Is there a problem?”

  Pausing, she looks up and parts her lips, but no words come out of her mouth. For a brief second, she sucks on the bottom of her lip, then continues filling out the rest of the form, skipping the name part.

  I tap my fingers on the desk and mumble, “You know … you can enter a fake name if you’re unsure of things. For now.”

  She looks up at me again with those questioning eyes that just push all my buttons. What is it about this girl that makes me want to adjust my collar? No idea, but I do it anyway.

  It takes her ages to pen everything down. She’s taking her sweet ass time as if she’s stalling or something, and I don’t like it one bit. When everything is finally done, the only thing missing is her signature.

  “Here,” I say, placing my finger on the lines.

  “Before I sign …” she mutters. “Could you tell me what it is that you do?”

  I frown and snort, but my amusement quickly dissipates when I see she’s serious. Has her agency not informed her? What is she doing here then?

  “Don’t tell me you don’t know,” I say. “Why else would you come here?”

  “Um …” She swallows, and her face is turning as red as a beet.

  I snatch the paper and tuck it in my drawer before she does something she’ll regret. But her eyes … damn, those big eyes immediately tug at me, forcing me to explain.

  “I can’t let you sign this if you aren’t a hundred percent sure about it.”

  “Explain to me again what this job is about.”

  I’m getting more and more suspicious of this girl. Something doesn’t add up.

  “I don’t have time for explanations, sorry.” I clear my throat and get up from my chair, but so does she.

  She places her hands on the desk and says, “I’m not here for you to just brush me off.”

  I raise a brow. “Excuse me?” Is she for real?

  “Sorry, I just …” She sighs. “I’m excited about this … opportunity.”

  “Right …” I say, still not believing this whole charade.

  So … she wants this, huh? Let’s see how far she thinks she’ll go then because I don’t think she has any clue whatsoever. Smirking, I sit down on my chair again and casually lean back as I say, “Okay then … strip.”

  She stares at me and her brows draw together, like the words are still registering. “What?”

  “Didn’t hear me?” I reply. “Strip.”

  She sucks in a breath and takes a step back away from the desk. This is the point where I expect her to turn around and run. That or scream expletives at my face before throwing in the towel.

  Except she doesn’t.

  Her bag drops to the floor. The buttons on her shirt slowly come undone.

  I watch in silence, mesmerized by her sheer courage. Either she’s really a stand-in who forgot what she came here to do, or she’s completely insane. Either way, I like where this is going.

  My attention is piqued the moment she reveals her strapless black bra and drops the shirt to the floor. She never takes her eyes off me while doing it, as if she’s tempting me to come and do the rest myself.

  But I’m not that easily persuaded. Especially not while at work.

  This is what I do … and I like my job too much to spoil the fun.

  I lick my top lip as her finger slides down her chest toward the zipper at the back of her black skirt, which she carefully peels down until that too drops to the floor. What’s left is nothing short of beauty wrapped in sin.

  And fuck me … do I want to give it a lick.

  But that’s not what she’s here for, and she knows that.

  This is a test. And right now, she’s passing with flying colors.

  Her hands move up along her back and clip off the bra.

  When that too tumbles to the floor, my eyes focus on her nipples that tighten as I stare. Her face isn’t red anymore like before. She looks confident and completely at ease. Like she’s not at all afraid of what I’m going to say … as if she already knows I like what I see.

  Not soon after, her panties follow, and I’m finding myself getting a hard-on just watching her stand still in the middle of my office, completely naked and ready to bend to my will.

  But this girl isn’t here for me; she’s here for my clients.

  At least … that’s what she wants me to think. But I’m still not convinced.

  “Turn,” I say, twirling my finger in the air.

  Her hips sway as she spins on her heels, her thick ass pushing all the right buttons. She’d be a great performer. Definitely.

  But there is something about her. Something I can’t let go.

  Defiance. It seeps through everything she does. The way she walks, how she struts, and the way she looks at me with that intent gaze as if she’s waiting for my reaction and it never comes.

  Too tough to say no to …
but I’m going to have to make the call based on what I know my clients need right now. And this isn’t it.

  “Pass,” I say.

  She stays put, the look on her face rapidly changing from confusion to annoyance. “What?”

  “It’s a no from me,” I say. “Put your clothes back on.”

  She parts her lips, but again, no words flow. Then she slams it shut again and silently picks up her things. No matter how many times I try to avert my eyes back to my laptop so I can continue working, I keep glancing at her as she puts her clothes back on. For some reason, I’m agitated, but I have no clue why. The whole room is oozing with an uncomfortable silence, and I don’t like it one bit.

  As she walks toward the door, I get up. Something compels me to say, “Wait.”

  What that something is eludes me, but I can’t allow her to leave.

  She stops in her tracks, still facing away from me, as if my voice was the only thing that made her stay.

  I step away from my desk and approach her, narrowing my eyes to get a good look. There’s something about her … about her body, her voice, her eyes … and I need to know …

  “Put your hair up,” I command.

  Her hand wraps around her brown hair and tugs it up into a ponytail.

  I don’t even need to see her face to know …

  It’s her.

  I place a hand on her shoulder and lean in. A grin spreads across my lips as a rumbling noise leaves my throat. “I know it’s you … Kitten …”

  Chapter 10

  Kat

  Kitten.

  The moment he says that, I suck in a breath.

  How does he know?

  I never said a word. Didn’t mention our conversations, the chat, my name. Anything.

  Yet he realized it’s me.

  Shit.

  I didn’t mean to lie to his face. I just didn’t know how to tell him that it was me. Like, who does that? I know what I did was wrong, and I feel so embarrassed right now. Fuck.

  I try to turn around to face him, but he pushes me against the door and places a hand beside my head, trapping me in his arms. He’s so close; I can feel his breath on my skin.

  “You thought I wouldn’t notice?” he asks, and I hear him sniff. “I can smell your perfume …”

  My whole body erupts in goose bumps as he inhales.

  I know it was wrong. I know. I just … couldn’t fucking stop myself. God, I should’ve left when I still had the chance.

  “I didn’t mean to—” I mumble.

  “Lie,” he interrupts. “You had every intention to make me believe your little charade, whatever it is you were doing to get close. But it was too obvious when you didn’t even know what you were doing.”

  “I’m sorry,” I mutter, shaking my head, wishing I could take back what I just did.

  Why did I even go along with his questionnaire? I should’ve just said it was me and stopped the whole thing. But I didn’t because I didn’t even know how without sounding like an idiot.

  “Don’t say that. We both know you aren’t sorry you did it. You’re just sorry you got caught,” he says, laughing softly. “But I don’t mind.”

  I gasp as he places a hand on my shoulder and spins me around on my feet, forcing me to look at him. Making me face the man who could make me fall to my knees and beg. Without the mask, he’s even more handsome than I could’ve imagined.

  “How did you find me?” he asks.

  “The window,” I say in a single breath. “I saw it in the picture.” His voice makes me do things. Makes me … compliant. Makes me admit everything.

  He turns his head and gazes at it before looking at me again. “Ahh … the flag.”

  I nod, trying to hide my embarrassment behind my hair, but it’s no use. I know he can see it … and he’s grinning too.

  “You shouldn’t have,” he says. “I never said you could.”

  “I know. I just couldn’t …” I lower my head, ashamed of my actions.

  I know it’s stupid. Silly. Childish.

  “You knew it was wrong, but you did it anyway.” With the tip of his finger, he lifts my chin. “Without my permission.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m normally never like this.”

  He doesn’t respond; he just keeps staring me down.

  Fuck. I don’t want him to be mad at me, but I know I royally screwed up. I need to make this right. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

  His lips twitch, and he narrows his eyes. “No … you won’t.”

  “You know why I’m here,” I say, trying my best.

  “This goes against all the rules,” he scoffs.

  “I don’t care,” I say. I just don’t want this to end.

  “Watch it.” He raises a finger, placing it against my lips. “You don’t want to go down that road.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Is that a threat?”

  I wonder what he means by that.

  “Maybe.” His head tilts slightly. “Would it stop you from trying?”

  I raise a brow, a smile spreading on my lips. “Maybe … or maybe not. Depends on what’s going to happen.”

  Yep. I just couldn’t stop my mind from going there.

  He sighs and shakes his head, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and index finger. “This was a big mistake, Kitten.”

  “But you knew it was me. That has to mean something,” I say, leaning forward and placing my hand on his chest. He recognized me. That means he kept an image of me in his mind. “Do you still think of me? Of that night?”

  He makes a tsk sound but doesn’t say another word. It’s almost as if he’s trying to deflect whatever it is that makes him feel this way.

  I inch closer, but he shoves me back against the door and says, “You don’t know what you’ve done. How dangerous this is.”

  “Why?” I ask, my tongue dipping out to wet my lips, which he obviously sees because he’s following my every move. “Are you scared you’re going to want me again?”

  The electricity between us is undeniable. The sparks literally fly through the air. Why won’t he acknowledge that? What is he so afraid of?

  “I’m not scared of anything,” he says through gritted teeth, but he’s still holding me, still clenching, refusing to let go. In fact, his face is closer to me than it ever was. Almost close enough … to kiss.

  I know he wants to. I can see it in the way his lips part when mine do, how his eyes keep zooming in on every inch of my skin as though he wants to lick it.

  “Remember how much fun we had?” I murmur, teasing him with a hum. The same noise I make when I come. Hard.

  “Oh … I remember all right,” he says, his voice strenuous. As if he’s trying his best to maintain his composure.

  I lean in, pressing my body against his. “I’m yours if you want … now … whenever … in whatever way you want,” I whisper into his ear.

  A few seconds pass, and his whole body tenses. Even between his legs.

  “Leave.”

  I lean back. “You don’t mean that, right?”

  Even though his voice is calm and collected, the cold-hearted look on his face is too sharp, even for him. “Don’t make me say it again,” he sneers. “Before I do something we’ll both regret.”

  “Do it then,” I reply. I’m not afraid of him. “I dare you.”

  Suddenly, he grabs both my arms and pins me against the door so hard it almost hurts. Almost. But I like the pain. I like when he gives me everything I shouldn’t want. Everything I shouldn’t crave. Maybe it’s like that for him too.

  “You don’t know what you’re asking. Who you’re asking.”

  “Then tell me … Who are you?” I ask, not backing down. “Someone who makes girls strip in his office? A dirty hotel manager? Is that it?”

  He snorts. “You’ve only just scratched the surface. And that’s as far as it’ll go.”

  “Why?” I’m genuinely interested. “I won’t judge you. I actually liked where it was going.”

 
“I could tell,” he says, gloating. “But you don’t know what you really want, or you wouldn’t be here.”

  Really? “I know what I want. I want you to fuck me.”

  “No,” he says, and suddenly he twists me around again, smashing me against the door until my face is flat against the wood and my ass presses against his dick.

  He’s fully hard.

  I’ve never wanted anything more badly than this.

  “This?” he murmurs. He grabs my ass, squeezing hard. “You think you want this?”

  “Fuck … yes,” I moan when he rubs me.

  But then he smacks it hard and covers my mouth with his hand before I can squeal.

  He pushes my skirt up and rips down my panties, shoving his fingers into my pussy without asking, without even thinking twice. I can feel him, everywhere, invading me, taking me, owning me.

  My breathing is rapid, but so is his. His cock pokes my skin as I gasp for air, for a quick break, which he doesn’t grant. He’s merciless. Quick and completely uncivilized.

  I’m not in control anymore. He is.

  Panic bubbles up to the surface. Invades my very thoughts until my skin turns red and my eyes grow big.

  And then suddenly, his fingers pull out again. Just like that. Disappearing as though it never happened.

  “You’re not ready for this,” he mutters. A tear escapes my eye, and he swipes it across my cheek with his thumb. “I don’t do dating. I don’t do repeat fucks.”

  He releases me from his grasp, but I’m anything but stable. Swaying against the door, collecting my breath and my panties, I realize what just happened. What he just did. What I asked him to do.

  I told him to do whatever he wanted, whenever, wherever. But I wasn’t prepared for the outcome.

  It’s exactly what he wanted to prove to me.

  That I’m not willing to throw myself into this. Into him. Because I’m afraid of what might happen. Just like he is.

  I shake my head, shoving down my skirt to be presentable again. But nothing I do will take away the fact that I feel utterly humiliated … the exact thing that makes me want him so fucking badly.