Initiating Amy (Dominion Hotel Book 3)

by Michelle Peters

  Carmen’s tone of voice told Amy otherwise. She sensed a longing and a desire, something she was denying in her words. Amy decided to probe just a little. “You never know. With the right guy, at the right time. Everyone wants someone, something permanent.”

  “Yeah, maybe. Anyway, if you don’t mind, I should get back at it.”

  “Yes, of course.’ Amy waved back. “I need to get back myself. Alison will be wondering.”

  Carmen stepped backwards into her office, waving goodbye as she did.

  With her half-finished coffee, Amy moved away from the line and down the corridor that led behind the ballroom. There was a service elevator in that direction, and she intended on taking it back up to the fourth floor. She passed the storage area where the banquet tables and chairs were housed, as well as the beverage fridge and the wine storage. She sipped on her coffee as she went, lukewarm now, but still pretty tasty. She was in mid sip as she turned the corner and almost bumped into Lance as he stood there.

  “Lance.” She almost spilled her coffee on him, she stopped so quickly. “What are you doing here?”

  He gave her a calm, studied look, then a half smile. “Doing my rounds.”

  Amy took the few moments that he spoke to catch her breath. “This is a nice surprise.” It actually was.

  Even though she didn’t know how he would receive it—they were at work after all—she stepped forward and placed a hand on his chest. She was relieved when his smile broadened, and he reached down to take her hand in his. He raised it to his lips and kissed her fingertips. She smiled a broad, ear-to-ear grin, then flushed a little, letting her fingers linger on his lips.

  “Mmm,” she purred.

  He let her fingers go and she wrapped her hand around her coffee cup. Coming back to reality, she looked left and right to make sure no one saw them.

  “I have a confession,” he said.

  “What?”

  “My rounds don’t usually bring me to the kitchen this time of day.”

  “So why are here then?”

  “Because you’re here.”

  Amy flushed again, her belly tingling with joy and excitement. “My job definitely doesn’t bring me to the kitchen this time of day. How did you know I was here?”

  “There’s cameras everywhere, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah,” she giggled. “I came for the coffee”—she raised her mug to illustrate her point—“because of the rain.”

  He furrowed his brow. “The rain?”

  She furrowed her brow as well, not really knowing why she did it. “Yeah, I wanted a coffee and didn’t want to go out and get wet, so I came here.”

  “For the coffee.”

  “Yes.” She wasn’t sure what he was driving at. She was confused. “Why else would I be here?”

  “Did you have a good chat with Carmen?”

  Damn cameras.

  “Yeah.”

  “What did you chat about?’

  Amy smiled a playful smile, deciding to be coy, hoping to change the direction of the conversation. “I’ll never tell.”

  Lance smiled a mischievous smile. “You know I have ways of making you talk.”

  Amy giggled. “I’m sure you do. We can talk later.”

  Amy reached her hand up and placed it on his cheek, holding it there. She felt the strength of his jaw and the morning stubble on his chin. Deciding to head back to her office, she pulled her hand away and began to move. As she did, Lance grabbed her by the wrist and held her.

  He was smiling. He took her coffee cup from her hand and put it on a table nearby. “Where do you think you are going?”

  “Back to work.” Amy grew even more confused.

  She wriggled her wrist to try and free herself, but he was holding on tightly, tighter than the playful situation warranted. She looked up at him. She watched as his smile slid away from his face. He set his jaw and narrowed his eyes. With his free hand he deftly reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a key card. Still holding on to Amy, he reached to his left and swiped the key card against the lock panel on the door behind him. The little light on the panel turned from red to green. Lance pushed against the door with his hips and it opened. He stepped backwards into the darkened room, pulling Amy into it with him. When she was completely inside, he moved her away from the door. It closed automatically.

  The room was dark. Although she sensed Lance’s presence close to her, she couldn’t see anything.

  “We can talk in here,” he said.

  He pulled her in closer to him, taking her hand in hers, wrapping his other arm around her waist. She rested her cheek against his chest, feeling the warmth coming off of him, feeling the hardness of his chest through his shirt and jacket, hearing his beating heart. She remained still. He seemed happy to let her be. She loved being so close to him this way. She wrapped her free arm around him, happy.

  As her eyes began to adjust to the darkness, she could see they were standing in the middle of an unused office. By the looks of it, it hadn’t been used for some time. It resembled part office, part storage room. The desk had small boxes on top of it. There was a bookshelf that held old, outdated manuals, and against the far wall there was a couch, also piled with boxes. Various culinary items were scattered around the room; a short-handled pizza paddle propped against the wall, old pots and pans, a rack of champagne glasses and a stack of dishes.

  “I’ve not seen this room before,” she said. “Actually, I don’t even know what’s behind most of the doors down here.”

  Lance released her hand and took a step back. “It’s the old chef’s office, from way back. They don’t use it anymore, not since they built the new line and installed the glassed chef’s office at the end of it. It should be turned into storage, really, there’s never enough of that, but each time it’s suggested the chef won’t let it happen. You know chefs, when it come to their kitchen, they’re so territorial.”

  Amy moved away from Lance, over to the couch. She picked up a small box and put it on the floor. She sat on the couch. “And Carmen, is she like all the other chefs?”

  “Don’t know if it’s been suggested to her yet, she’s so new here.”

  “No, I mean is she territorial?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Lance walked over to her and sat on the arm of the couch. Amy didn’t look up at him, averting her gaze, absently fingering the pages of a cooking magazine that was on the couch beside her. It was so old the pages were crispy and yellow. Lance reached out a hand and placed it under her chin, raising her face to look at him.

  “What do you mean?” His voice was stronger, deeper this time. “Did Carmen say something?”

  Amy felt his hand on her chin, soft and warm. He moved his index finger back and forth, stroking her cheek. It was soothing. She liked it.

  “She mentioned something about the two of you being friends with benefits.” She stopped, trying to gauge his reaction to this statement. His only reaction was to stop stroking her cheek, dropping his hand to his lap. His face remained expressionless.

  “And?” he said.

  “And?”

  Lance moved into the middle of the room. “It doesn’t mean anything more than it is.” He stood, looking down at her.

  She tried to hold his gaze, trying not to speak, trying not to let him know that all of this was confusing for her. She thought of Miranda, what would Miranda do? Miranda would stay in the moment, take it for what it was, go with it. Amy was resolved to do the same thing.

  He took the two steps that brought him back to her, standing tall and strong in front of her. He reached down and slipped his hands under her arms, pulling her to her feet. She didn’t resist.

  “And is that a problem?”

  He was starting to control the moment. She was in it, but he was controlling it. She relaxed, giving it to him, giving him control of the moment and of her. For a brief instant she thought about her job, but it was fleeting and not in her control at the moment.
/>   “No problem,” she said.

  “Good.” He subtly reached up and slipped his fingers over her shoulders and under her jacket. He eased her jacket off of her. She let her arms go limp, letting the jacket fall to the couch behind her. Was this really happening? Here? Now? It was.

  “Say that again, like you know you should say it.”

  She leaned her head forward onto his shoulder. He brought a hand up, cupping the back of her head, stroking her fine, bobbed red hair.

  “No, sir, that’s not a problem.”

  “Good girl.” He continued to stroke her hair while the fingers of his free hand deftly began undoing the buttons of her blouse, top to bottom. Her shirt was quickly opened. He held her head close to his chest as he skillfully removed her shirt.

  “Aren’t friends?”

  “Yes, sir, we are.”

  “Do you like the benefits of being my friend?”

  As if to illustrate his point, he released her front-clasping bra, her breasts popping out. He gently squeezed her right nipple, not too hard but hard enough, then the left one. She jumped at the pinch, then sighed at his touch as the gentle pain shot through her breasts. Her stomach tingled.

  She breathed into his chest. “I do, sir. I do.”

  He released her, stepping back to remove his jacket. Amy stepped back to sit on the couch, but he shot out a hand to stop her, catching her wrist. His grip was strong and hurt just a little. He let her go.

  “Stand.”

  She did, watching him as he removed his shirt.

  “Touch me.”

  Amy stretched out an arm and placed her hand flat on his hard, hairless chest. She drew her hand back and forth, moving from one hard nipple to the next. He reached out and cupped her breasts from below, his strong, long fingers kneading her small, perky breasts. She placed her other hand on his belly, feeling the defined abs under her fingers. She closed her eyes, enjoying the tactile sensation of muscle and warm skin. Her lower hand strayed lower, felling the little wisps of hair on his belly. He followed them down to his belt and the top of his pants. She stepped closer, laying her hand flatter, her fingers inching further down his belly. The feel of his hard abs mingled with his warm, soft hands on her breasts began to arouse Amy. She began to feel it in her legs as she became a little wobbly.

  Amy wanted to sit, to give in to her wobbly knees. She took her hand off of his belly and made a motion towards the couch, but he stopped her, quickly moving his hands from under her breasts, grabbing her nipples between the fingers of both hands. As he stood still, her backward motion caused him to pull her nipples out, the flesh of her breasts pulling as well. Her nipples were hard and red as he pinched them, holding her up by her breasts.

  “Ow,” she blurted out, only once, remembering that she was still in the hotel. She leaned towards him to stop the pulling. My goodness, I’m at work. She couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe she was at work, standing naked in front of this man. No, not just this man, her man. Everything came together at the same time in her mind – where she was, Lance, being at work, her nipples feeling like they were going to explode – and it all washed over her in a wave of excitement and delight. All of it made her so hot, so much so that she was beginning to worry about how wet she was getting, worried that it would soak through her panties and show on the front of her skirt.

  She stepped forward and he released her nipples, flattening his hands to push hard against her tiny breasts, pushing on the pain, soothing her. She stepped into him and raised her head to kiss him. He lowered his head, pressing his lips hard against hers. The kiss was long and lingering. She nibbled on his lower lip, biting him harder than she planned to. He pilled away, licking his lip.

  “Not nice,” he said, seriously. So serious that Amy was afraid that she had made a mistake by nibbling his lip. He took her by the shoulders and spun her around, pulling her in tight to his body. He reached around and placed both hands flat on her small breasts again. He squeezed them hard, letting her nipples slip out between his fingers. He squeezed his fingers around her nipples.

  Pain, pleasure. Amy couldn’t decide what she was feeling, which excited her all the more. All she knew was that she liked it. She wiggled her hips, her juices flowing so much that, despite her efforts to squeeze her thighs together, they still soaked her panties. As Lance tightened his grip on her breasts, on her nipples, she leaned forward, pushing her ass back into him. She could feel his strong, erect penis through the material of her skirt. She wondered—she hoped—he could tell how turned on she was right now, how much she wanted that hard shaft inside her.

  She reached around and unzipped her skirt at the side. Lance gave room for the skirt to fall to the floor. Amy kicked it to the side.

  As if he were reading her mind, Lance released her breasts and placed a hand between her shoulder blades, roughly pushing her forward. The desk was in front of her and she fell forward onto it, landing on her elbows. She lay her arms flat along the desk, supporting herself. She heard the jingle of a belt buckle. She leaned her head forward, not seeing but imagining what he was doing behind her, unclasping his belt and sliding his pants off. In her mind he wasn’t wearing any underwear. She envisioned his penis springing free.

  Just as she thought it, she felt it. He maneuvered himself right up against her, his hard shaft poking her from behind. She reached a hand around to feel it. She managed to get the tip of her fingers on his circumcised shaft before he pulled away.

  “Did I say you could do that?” He was leaning forward, on top of her, his hard nipples pressing into her, the tip of his warm, hard penis on her lower back. It was driving her crazy.

  “No, sir.”

  “You’re right, I didn’t.” He stood up, a swift slap to her right butt check catching her off guard.

  “Oww.” It didn’t hurt, she was just surprised. Her pussy instantly got wetter in anticipation of the next one. She was ready, the one that came across her left cheek. So was the rest of her, ready for him to take her, hoping he would do it soon.

  “You don’t bite.”

  He slapped her right ass cheek again, this time harder. The blow forced her forward on the desk. She took it in silence.

  “What do you say?”

  “No, sir.”

  “You don’t touch without permission.”

  He slapped her left cheek, harder than the last one, pushing her forward again. So much so that she bumped her head against a pile of papers at the top of the desk.

  “No, sir. Yes, sir. I mean.” She knew what he meant, she just wasn’t able to articulate it. She loved the pleasure of the pain. Indulging it, it was making her speechless. She wanted more.

  By now her little lace panties we so wet they were dripping. She closed her legs, pushing her ass back and up towards him, feeling the warmth even more now with closed legs, hoping he would get the hint.

  “What do you want?” He slapped her hard on the right cheek. He was hitting her hard now, so hard that her ass was starting to burn and sting. “Is that what you want?” He hit her again, so hard she was sure that he left the imprint of his hand on her ass cheek.

  “No, sir.” She was amazed at how hard it was to get these two words out of her. She was breathing so hard, she was so aroused, her heart was pounding in her chest.

  “No?”

  There was a pause. She wasn’t sure if she was to answer or if she was to wait. Before she could decide, he spoke again.

  “How about this?” She felt the sting of a flat paddle hitting her right ass cheek. It rocked her forward more than before. She looked around to see him deliver a similar blow to her left ass cheek. He was using the pizza paddle.

  As he raised it to slap her again with it, she found the words she needed.

  “Sir, please. I want you. I want you in me. Please, take me. Please fuck me.”

  “I’m not sure if you deserve it.”

  He spanked her with the paddle again and again, three more times on each cheek. She heard the whistle t
hrough the air each time he drew the paddle back to strike her, whistling again before it hit her. She began to pick up the sound and the rhythm. Each slap harder than the first, each one more delicious than the last. He stopped. She looked back at him. She loved the fiery look in his eyes. The paddle still in his right hand, with his left he began to caress her stinging cheeks, first the left one, then the right. He tossed the pizza paddle aside, it clanked on the floor.

  “Do you deserve it?”

  “I do, sir.”

  “Why? What makes you think so?”

  She was growing into her role. She knew exactly what to say. “Because I am yours. Yours to do with as you please.”

  He stepped into her and she faced forward once again, looking away, lowering her head in delightful anticipation. There it was, his penis laying along her back as he lay on top of her.

  “Tell me what you want, my little one.”

  He was whispering in her ear now, his tone soft, gentle, loving. He was teasing her, she could tell, but she loved it. She couldn’t decide which was crueler—more deliciously cruel—him towering over her commandingly, or him lying on her lovingly. Either way, she knew if he didn’t do something soon, if he didn’t enter her soon, she would explode in orgasm without him.

  “You. I want you inside me.”

  He raised his body slightly, reaching down and pulling at her panties by the waistband. With one motion he slid them off of her. He reached his hand down between her legs, spreading them wide. When she felt his warm, gentle hand on her inner thigh her pussy flooded, running hard down her inner legs and over his hand. She tried hard to hold herself back, with little success.

  He leaned into her again, whispering in her ear.

  “Where do you want me? Tell me what you want.”

  “I want you in me.”

  “Say it again. What do you want?”

  She was in agony. “Please, sir. Please. Please fuck me.”