Hotel O

by Clarissa Wild

  “Likewise,” I retort. “But I am trying.”

  “Maybe you should’ve come to me first before attempting to break into an event.”

  “Like I said, I already tried. You blocked me. Again.” My emphasis on the last word makes his lip twitch.

  “Because I was busy organizing the event, and I didn’t want you snooping around.”

  “So do you pay these people or what?” I ask. Now that we’re back to square one.

  “Yes. Some. Not everyone,” he admits.

  “The clients pay you for the joy of fucking women. Got it.”

  “Women aren’t the only ones subjecting themselves to this. There’s ladies’ nights too.”

  “Great,” I say.

  “And gay nights. We organize pretty much anything our clients request.”

  “Okay. But is it legal?”

  “Of course, it is. Our hotel wouldn’t be operating if it wasn’t,” he retorts.

  “Then why are you so upset about me finding out?”

  His face darkens, and his mouth shuts. I guess I got him there.

  “Why are you so into me?”

  The question hits me like a truck. Like he just bulldozed over me.

  “Why do you have to ask that question?”

  The look in his eyes has changed from rage and confusion … to utter defeat.

  “I’ve been a dick to you. A straight and utter asshole. I’ve done nothing but be unkind to you. I’ve been pushing you away so hard,” he says, his head tilting down to look me in the eyes. “Why do you keep hanging on?”

  “Because I feel like there could be more between us,” I whisper, barely able to breathe with him this close to me.

  His lips are so close I could almost taste them. And fuck, do I want to … so badly. Even after all this. All this rage, all this pushing and shoving, all this filth.

  I still want him so badly that I swear my heart would stop if he said yes.

  But he doesn’t.

  No matter how much I lean in with my lips parted and my chest pushing up against his, he doesn’t make the plunge.

  Suddenly, the door opens, and the moment is gone.

  “Declan?”

  He steps back, clearing his throat, pretending we weren’t even close enough to touch.

  “Sorry, am I interrupting?” the woman says.

  “Maybe,” he answers. Not quite a yes … Dammit.

  “Sorry, but Greta called me to ask if I could come and get you. It’s important. Something about a girl wanting out.”

  “Fuck,” he growls, running his fingers through his hair. “Why now?”

  As he pulls away, my flimsy outfit is exposed, and the woman stares at me. I immediately attempt to cover up using my hands, but it’s not enough to hide my shame that’s probably turning my face red right now.

  “She said it was urgent. The client’s objecting. We need you.”

  “I’m coming,” he says. “Just … give me a minute to sort out this mess.”

  Mess. Right. That’s what I am. A mess.

  To him. To my parents. To myself. And everyone else.

  “Of course,” the woman says, and she closes the door behind her.

  Declan turns around to face me again. “I think we’d better get you home.”

  I nod, having lost the energy to fight him on this. For now anyway.

  He grabs a long coat from the coat hanger and holds it out to me. “Put this on.”

  I do what he says. I don’t protest.

  “I’ll call a cab.”

  “It’s fine,” I say. “I already had one on call.”

  It’s not fine, but right now, I don’t want to make things any more awkward than they already are.

  “Are you sure?” he asks. His voice strains as though he wants to say more but is holding back.

  “Yes,” I say.

  I don’t know why he suddenly cares so much. Maybe he still wants to keep tabs on me.

  I smile as he frowns. The room feels as if it’s on fire right now. Like we’re both avoiding responsibility for what happened here.

  It feels so bad that I don’t even say goodbye before walking out the door and running out of the hotel. Out of sight, out of mind. At least for now.

  Because I’m sure as hell not going to sleep tonight. And I don’t think he will either.

  Chapter 18

  Declan

  When I finally get home after a difficult day, I immediately jump under the shower. But it doesn’t cool me down, not by a long shot. Today was such a racket, and I can’t even wrap my head around it. Nothing I do can pull that image from my mind.

  Kat … lying there on that table … almost being fucked by another man.

  My fist balls as I step out from under the shower. I have to stop thinking about her, but it seems an impossible task, especially after what she did today. I’m still amazed at how she managed to sneak in. Now I have to reprimand all my guards or hire new ones just to make up for this mishap. I can’t believe she actually got past them. They definitely need a schooling.

  And that’s not even the worst of my problems. What if my boss finds out? I’d be fucked.

  I’m lucky no one noticed anything off when I intervened. Greta simply went on with her task and never asked me about the girl I dragged out. And Sarah wasn’t even fazed that I had a one-on-one with one of the girls. Apparently, she thought I was scolding her for doing a poor job, which is technically true. But it wasn’t for the reasons she thought.

  Still, all I can do is hope they keep their mouth shut about what happened.

  Let alone Kat herself. If any of this gets out to the press, we’re screwed. I’m screwed.

  I can pack up my things and leave. And worse … the hotel will probably be ruined. No one will want to stay here anymore for fear of exposure.

  Everything rests on our ability to stay under the radar. Our client’s privacy is the priciest commodity there is. Nothing can ever pay for that. They give us their hard-earned trust, and now, because of what Kat did, it almost shattered.

  Or rather … because of what I did.

  Because Kat only went there to search for me. To find the answers to the questions she had because I wouldn’t give them to her.

  God, I never should’ve even gone to meet her.

  I slam my fridge shut and take a much-needed sip straight from the bottle of wine. I’ll have to ship her clothes back to her, I guess. That, or invite her back to my office to personally hand them to her, which is the stupidest idea ever, considering the way I’ve been following my cock lately.

  Why do I have to be such a horny bastard all the time? If I could’ve kept my dick in my pants, none of this would’ve ever happened. But guess what? It did, and now I have to deal with it.

  I sink down on the couch and groan. Fuck. I’m sounding like a whiny old bitch.

  Another sip.

  The heat going down my throat doesn’t erase the image of her in that outfit. No matter how many gulps I take. In fact, the more I down the alcohol, the more her image becomes brighter.

  Her face lighting up at the sight of me. Her lips curling up when she catches me off guard. Her nipples peeking through her top. Her wet pussy waiting for me to claim it.

  Fuck.

  I don’t know what about her has me so infatuated, but I’m hooked.

  I slam the bottle down on the table and grab my cell phone, opening the browser. I immediately go to the site and click her name.

  I’m typing the message I know is the bad choice, but I can’t stop my fingers from doing it anyway.

  D: Let’s meet up. Tomorrow evening. My office.

  Kat

  When I see his message, my heart practically jumps out of my chest. Is he actually pursuing me? After claiming again and again he didn’t want to take it any further?

  I mull it over for a few seconds. Should I go?

  I mean, after his blatant attempts to get me to fuck off, this seems to come out of nowhere. Although I am interested in seei
ng where things could go with him. After all, they say you should find a partner who matches your sexual energy … and he definitely fits all the criteria.

  But is it even healthy? Starting things this way with a guy like him?

  I don’t want to get my heart stomped on.

  If I could only tell myself not to let emotions get involved, it would be easy. A quick and easy bang evening, and then I slip away again as if I was never there in the first place.

  But can I really tell myself that when I already feel my heart flutter every time I speak to him?

  I sigh and grumble to myself. The only solution to my problem would be to cut things off now. Completely stop speaking to him.

  But who am I kidding? As if I’d ever be able to do that.

  I’m so easily persuaded to do things because my body wants it.

  So before I change my mind, I quickly type in the chat.

  NaughtyKitten: Changed your mind?

  D: We should talk more about the other night.

  NaughtyKitten: Right … if you say so.

  D: Yes or no?

  NaughtyKitten: Yes, sir!

  D: Good Kitten. Sleep well. Don’t be too naughty.

  NaughtyKitten: I’ll think of you before I rub one out.

  D: Take some pictures if you do. Bring them with you tomorrow.

  NaughtyKitten: Will do, if I take them.

  D: Good. And one last thing … what’s your number?

  I pause, staring at the screen for a second. I thought he was against giving out personal details, and a telephone number is definitely personal. Then again, this might mean he’s up for something more. Maybe I should trust him. After all, I already did everything I wasn’t supposed to, so maybe this is a great way to extend an olive branch.

  So I send him my phone number and wait for his reply.

  D: Thanks.

  NaughtyKitten: You’re not going to give me yours?

  D: You’ll get it when I give it.

  The chat ends, and he goes offline.

  Well, fuck me … that was quick.

  Why would he not give me his number? Is he afraid I’m going to use it for something bad? Or maybe he wants to take things slow …

  Well, one thing’s for sure, the moment he texts me, I’ll know his number.

  I grin as I close the chat site and curl up with my phone in my hand.

  Fuck me. I’m really losing my shit to this man.

  The next day, I march into the hotel without shame. Without the mask, no one will recognize me anyway. The bellhop immediately walks toward me when he spots me, and for a second there, I fear he might remember me from that day I lied to his face.

  “Hello, ma’am. Can I ask you what your room number is, please?”

  “No room. I’m here for an appointment with Mr. D. Porter,” I reply.

  He frowns and says, “Oh … do you mind if I check this with him?”

  Well, well. I guess they upped their security. Declan probably reprimanded them because of me.

  “Sure, go ahead,” I say with a smirk. This time, I don’t come uninvited.

  “One second,” the bellhop says, and he leans over the desk and calls a number using the phone there. “What’s your name?” he asks.

  “Kat,” I say, smiling.

  There’s a quick conversation back and forth, but I’m not listening. I’d much rather look at the guests, trying to find one I recognize from that night. I wish I could pinpoint them just by their hairstyles, but it’s proving much more difficult than I thought. I guess the masks did provide ample protection for the guests.

  I wonder if all events are like that. Secretive. Exclusive. Sensual.

  What would the women’s nights look like? Or the gay nights? I hope there are mixed nights too. There probably are, knowing people and their sexual needs.

  I wish I could see all the events, but I’m pretty sure Declan won’t let me. And now that he’s caught me red-handed, I doubt I’d ever be able to sneak into the other events.

  I guess I should be lucky I even got into one of them. And what a memory it is.

  At first, I wasn’t sure whether I liked it because I was struck in awe at what I was seeing right in front of me. But after letting it sink in, I realized that was only the initial shock, which I got over pretty quickly.

  So quickly, I knew the next day I’d do it again in a heartbeat if I could.

  A door has opened wide for me, and I don’t think I want to shut it.

  “Okay, you’re good to go,” the bellhop says as he puts the phone back on the desk. “He’s waiting upstairs for you, ma’am.”

  “Thank you,” I say, winking as I walk off.

  That was surprisingly easy. Then again, I have nothing to hide this time.

  I make my way up to his office and knock on his door. It takes him a while to answer.

  “Come in.” His voice already makes the goose bumps scatter on my skin even though he didn’t say anything sexually charged. My body is so used to following his commands that it gets excited at the slightest amount he gives.

  When I open the door and step inside, he’s already waiting in front of his desk, casually dipping his hands into his pocket.

  “Glad you came,” he says.

  Immediately, the image of me coming on his lap flashes into my mind.

  From the look on his face, I think he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

  Goddamn him and his constant innuendos.

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” I reply.

  His eyes slowly pan down my body, taking his sweet time. “Nice dress.”

  “Thanks. I quite like it.” It’s banana yellow and has folds at the bottom that make it flowy. It’s also perfect for a quick romp on a desk. Not that I was thinking about that when I put it on.

  “So tell me … what did you think of the event?”

  “Now you’re interested?” I narrow my eyes.

  “I wasn’t ever not interested. I’m just worried …” he admits.

  “That I’m going to tell someone,” I fill in.

  “Exactly.” He crosses his arms.

  “I won’t,” I say, smiling as I walk toward him.

  Now he’s smirking too, but it’s not the kind that makes you happy … more the kind that makes you incredibly mischievous.

  “Did you bring the pictures?”

  Of course, he’d ask.

  I printed them out especially for him since my face doesn’t appear on them, of course.

  I reach into my purse and take them out, placing them on his desk. Then I place my purse on his chair and look out the window. It’s so peaceful and quiet out there today. A typical Sunday.

  But my Sunday’s anything except typical when it involves him.

  I can hear him shuffle through them. He’s probably enjoying himself thoroughly right now, smirking at the sight of my fingers inside me, and my nipples hard and on full display.

  “Did you enjoy yourself?” he asks.

  I’m not going to lie. I loved making them. And I love that he’s now feeling that same excitement flow through his body. “Yes.”

  Suddenly, he’s behind me. His hand snakes around my belly, his mouth dangerously close to my ear. “Did you think of me while pleasuring yourself?”

  I grin. “Maybe.”

  “Don’t play coy with me,” he teases.

  “The answer depends on what this whole thing is about …”

  “I wanted to see you. That’s it.”

  “Really?” I find it hard to believe. “Then why send me away every time we meet?”

  I know I’m asking tough questions, but I just wanna know. I’m tired of playing silly games. I’m into adult games only.

  “You know why … the rules …” he whispers.

  “Fuck the rules.”

  “They’re there to protect us. Like my rules protect me from exposing this company and losing my job.”

  I snort. “How’s that working out for you?”

  “That’s exactly my problem
. It’s not.”

  “And it’s my fault?” I reply.

  Suddenly, his lips are on my skin. So soft … yet so erotic that my legs feel as though they’re going to collapse underneath my body. And the moment he drags them along my ear, my eyes practically roll into the back of my head.

  “Don’t talk back to me, Kitten. It makes me mad, and you don’t like me when I’m mad.”

  “Maybe I do,” I taunt, biting my lip when he sinks his teeth into my skin to nibble gently.

  “You wouldn’t say that if you knew all the things I want to do to your body …” he groans, his fingers digging into my skin as he holds on tight.

  “Show me. I’d love to find out,” I murmur, closing my eyes so I can enjoy his touch.

  I don’t think he’s ever been this close with me. Or that we’ve ever kissed.

  “First, Kat Bronson … you need to tell me where you work.”

  What?

  Before I can turn around, he’s already spun me. He grabs my arms tight, and says, “Yeah … I searched your number.”

  Fuck. Why did I give it to him? Of course, he’d do that.

  “Surprisingly, all it returned was a few old forum posts of yours, but no social media.”

  “I don’t use them,” I lie.

  “Of course, you don’t,” he says with a stupid grin on his face. “You just use a sex chat site …”

  “Right,” I reply, as my entire face heats up.

  He’s still so close that I can feel his breath on my skin, and it tingles like crazy.

  “So Kitten … what’s it going to be?” he hums, leaning his forehead against mine.

  “I don’t care. I don’t mind. I just want you …”

  “Are you sure about that, Kitten?” he murmurs, his lips so close I can almost taste them. “You haven’t told me everything yet.”

  “Neither have you,” I murmur with a ragged breath.

  The smirk on his face is seriously sexy. “Is that why I’m so attracted to you? The secrets?”

  “Maybe,” I reply, grinning too.

  Suddenly, his mouth latches onto mine. Without even being able to finish my sentence. The one I can’t remember anyway because oh my God, he’s actually kissing me.

  And I fucking love it.