Suite Encounters

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

  “I don’t have any, honestly.”

  “Take off your dress.”

  I knew I shouldn’t but I yearned to do exactly what he told me. I felt a thrill in being ordered about by this man, so I unfastened my dress and let it slip to the floor. I stood before him wearing only my underwear. I was conscious of Harry’s stare as he looked me up and down, so I pushed my shoulders back in defiance, which thrust my breasts forward. The lace cups of my bra barely covered my nipples. “See? I have nothing to hide.”

  Harry licked his lips. “Now your bra.”

  I felt a wetness between my legs as I obeyed him and reached behind to unclasp my bra. I slid the straps down my arms, holding the cups against my breasts for a moment before letting it fall to the floor. I nodded toward the bulge growing in the crotch of his trousers. “I think you’re the one concealing a weapon.”

  Harry pushed himself up from the chair and stepped closer. “Shut up. Take off your panties.”

  “I really don’t thi—”

  “Now!”

  I hooked my fingers into the sides of my panties and did as I was told. I faced him dressed only in my suspender belt, stockings and Mary Janes.

  The inspector walked over and grasped my breasts in his large hands and I heard a groan escape his lips. He leaned forward and placed his mouth, still warm from the whisky, over a nipple. He started flicking it with his tongue, nibbling and sucking, all the while squeezing and stroking my other breast.

  I was so wet I could feel it dribbling down my thighs. I put my hands on either side of Harry’s head and raised it until our lips met. His kiss was hard and hungry, his tongue invading my mouth. He pressed himself close and his cock pushed against my naked stomach, only his clothing separating us. I reached down, unbuckled his belt and unfastened his trousers. He kicked off his shoes and his pants quickly followed. He stood there wearing just his shirt, tie and boxers, which were stretched to capacity. I reached inside and took hold of him. He was huge, the biggest I’d ever encountered. My fingers didn’t come close to meeting around his shaft.

  Harry drew back from me and removed the remainder of his clothes. He threw them across the room and stood naked before me. He was an imposing figure, broad-shouldered, with a strong, muscular chest with just the right amount of hair, but what really caught my attention was his thick cock jutting out from a thatch of dark hair. I started to remove my stockings.

  “No,” he growled. “Leave them. I like them.” He pushed me backward until the bed met the back of my legs and I sat down. Harry pushed me down farther and, taking hold behind my knees, he lifted my legs, spreading them to expose my smooth pussy.

  My swollen labia parted and I felt a beating as my heart pumped blood toward my sex. More juice trickled down my thighs. Harry knelt on the floor, gazing at what had been revealed to him, my folds opening to display my secret center. He leaned in closer until his face was only inches away and I could feel his hot breath against my wet flesh. He pushed my legs even farther apart, then suddenly his tongue was sliding up and down my slit, lapping at my juices and exploring every fold until finally he thrust his tongue inside me as deeply as he could.

  I squirmed, grasping the bedcover and twisting it in my hands while he sucked, nibbled and invaded my pussy. Then he sucked my clit and I groaned as his teeth brushed the delicate flesh. I wriggled myself against his face, eager to get as much contact as possible as my second orgasm of the day racked my body.

  “You like that?” Harry asked as he pulled away. His lips glistened from me and I loved it when he licked them clean, obviously savoring my taste. Before I had time to reply, he used his fingers to spread my lips farther apart and then slowly he inserted two fingers of his other hand, moving them in and out, in and out, almost lazily. Then he squeezed a third finger inside me and I felt so full and stretched. When I thought it could get no better, he rubbed his thumb against my clit with each stroke. I was about to burst with pleasure again when Harry withdrew his fingers and stood up.

  I raised my head to see what he was doing but before I could ask him I caught sight of his thick cock pointing upward. It was too much to resist. I pushed myself up from the bed and dropped to my knees before him. Now it was at eye level and I could see his flawless skin stretched taut and the thick cord of vein running the length of his shaft. I looked up, meeting his dark eyes. He nodded and I leaned forward and ran my tongue up and down him, from his balls, over the ridges of his veins to his swollen, silky glans and back again. As his cock twitched, I licked and kissed my way back to his tip again. My nose filled with his hot scent. Without stopping I reached up between his legs, seeking his balls. I squeezed and rubbed them, listening to him groan in pleasure, loving the way they slipped and moved in my hand.

  Harry reached down, cupping my face. I opened my mouth wide and took him in my mouth, sucking and licking. My tongue circled before seeking and probing his tiny opening. He started to move his hips back and forth, filling my mouth, and I tilted my head back to accommodate him deeper.

  I let go of his balls and slid my hand farther between his legs, finding his tight ring and slowly circling it with my finger, varying the pressure as I went. When I heard him begin to groan louder, I pushed my finger inside him. His buttocks clenched and he seemed to expand even more inside my mouth. I moved my head backward and forward faster, sucking and flicking my tongue. Suddenly hot fluid filled my mouth and I swallowed to make room for more.

  He slipped from my lips and I licked the remaining spunk from the end of his cock, all the time looking up, watching his face. Harry’s lips were drawn back as he savored the remains of his orgasm. He looked back down to me and said, “I’ve not finished with you yet.” He took my hands and pulled me to my feet. He kissed away a drop of creamy fluid that was trickling down my chin before pushing me back onto the bed.

  I expected him to join me there but he turned and walked across the room. I was confused. Had he not enjoyed it? Had I upset him?

  Harry walked toward the fridge and opened the door. He took out the glass dildo and walked back holding the translucent toy before him. I felt myself become wet again with anticipation and I lay back on the bed, bending my knees and letting them fall apart, presenting Harry with the perfect target for his glass weapon.

  He knelt between my legs and in one smooth movement slid the dildo deep inside me. I gasped as the icy glass entered and my muscles contracted around it. The sensation was exhilarating as the cold glass met my hot flesh. Harry pumped it hard and fast and I rose to meet him, gasping as the sensation flitted from hot to cold and back again with each thrust. I couldn’t believe I was about to come again after just a few moments but the pressure inside me was rising and I was about to explode.

  Then I came, squirting juice along the glass shaft in a shuddering orgasm. The well-lubricated glass slipped from me and Harry left it lying on the bed between my legs.

  Harry stood up and collected his clothing, dressed and walked to the door. “I’ve no more questions for you tonight, but don’t think of leaving.” He closed the door behind him. I fell asleep where I lay.

  The following morning, there was another murder. A guest was found poisoned. Millie Fanshaw had worked with Frederick, seducing and robbing wealthy socialites.

  I had fun making accusations with everyone else. The policemen were a constant presence, revealing clues, questioning more guests. I was disappointed that the inspector seemed to ignore me after my “interrogation” the previous night, but I had to remember that he was playing a part and couldn’t ignore the others despite the special attention I had received.

  Soon it was over. Sir George was arrested for both murders. The two victims had targeted his only daughter, leaving her suicidal and Sir George distraught, vowing revenge. The other guests resumed their true identities and were dressed in their usual attire and I was Lisa again. It was a shame. I was fond of Coco.

  I handed my key in at the reception desk and said my goodbyes, wishing I could remain a little
longer.

  Suddenly two arms reached round my waist, stopping me in my tracks. Startled, I turned to see who was there and came face to face with Inspector Winchester. Only now he wasn’t the inspector anymore. Gone were the suit, tie and Brylcreemed hair. Now he wore jeans and a sweater. His hair was gelled, making him look younger and sexier.

  “Gavin!” I blushed.

  “I like seeing you that color,“ he laughed. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

  “It was wonderful.”

  “Told you so.”

  “It was fun seeing you at work.”

  “Do you think we could see more of each other at home?”

  There was nothing I wanted more. I nodded. “There’s one thing, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Do you think the inspector wants to question me again?”

  Gavin smiled, “Oh, yes. Without a doubt.”

  SURRENDER WITH A TWIST

  Suleikha Snyder

  Las Vegas invariably made Anna want to do one of three things: blow all her cash at the blackjack table, check out that male strip show at the Excalibur or hook up with a stranger. She’d only been here a day and she found herself doing a fourth thing: hiding.

  A well-dressed woman, with teased blonde hair that looked like it belonged in 1985, stepped out from a limo. She was immediately flocked by autograph seekers with cell phone cameras. Anna didn’t have to be told who she was. She was already ducking behind a pillar and hoping that the reigning queen of “Nights of Surrender” wouldn’t see her. Desiree LeBeau played a massive bitch on TV and didn’t really have to stretch her acting muscles to do it. Not that she could stretch that many muscles at all, with all the Botox she’d had. Ugh. If Desi saw Anna, she wouldn’t hesitate to bring up Ty. Worse, she’d bring up Felicity and Ty. Being divorced for a year didn’t make that any easier.

  Anna made a run for it, bolting inside and hurrying past the roped-off area where some very efficient-looking Emmy staffers were doing check-ins. It would just figure: she’d flown all the way from New York only to run into someone from one of the three remaining New York soap operas.

  She wanted to curse whoever booked her a room at the Las Vegas Hilton the same weekend as the Daytime Emmy Awards…which basically boiled down to cursing herself. Since their expense budget was nonexistent and the Hilton was one of the cheapest business-friendly options close to the Strip, she’d instructed her assistant to go with it. Sure, crazy events happened in Vegas hotels all the time—when she was meeting a prospective liquor distributor last year, there had been a clown convention—but this really was beyond the pale. The Emmys? Oh, hell, no.

  Anna didn’t know what it said about her that the only thing more trauma-inducing than Bozo and a hundred of his best buddies was a hotel full of soap actors and people who made their living shoving their hand up a Muppet’s butt. Not that she was against daytime programming. Hell, she TiVoed “The View” and “Days of our Lives.” She just happened to be morally opposed to any events that meant her ex-husband was slated to be in the same confined space. Why hadn’t she checked her calendar and insisted this expansion meeting take place one week later?

  Because you’re desperate, Anna, the tiny voice in the back of her mind that sounded suspiciously like her mother reminded. Because you want to run into Tyler, added a voice that was more like her sister’s. You’d think that Abby hadn’t picked her side in the divorce, given how she always carried on about Anna harboring feelings for her ex. Not wanting to spend three thousand dollars removing the PROPERTY OF TYLER ST. CLOUD tattoo on her inner thigh did not mean Anna was still in love with the insensitive dolt. It just meant she didn’t want a laser surgery technician to see what an idiot she’d been at eighteen. She was clearly still an idiot at twenty-eight.

  Anna kept her sunglasses on while she gave the red carpet a wide berth. A few Internet reporters were already scoping out their spots, but they wouldn’t know her on sight. As she headed toward the little sushi lounge adjacent to the casino, she really hoped nobody else from “Nights of Surrender” materialized. Years of cast Christmas parties and charity baseball games and Emmy bashes meant that she was a familiar face. Nowhere near as familiar as Tyler’s, of course.

  There was no point in denying it; Ty was gorgeous. Six feet three inches of dark-haired, blue-eyed, Australian hunk. He’d been dreamy at twenty, when they’d both been working behind the bar at a 9th Avenue dive, and at thirty he was a serious contender for People’s Sexiest Man Alive. Anna had never gotten out of the bar business, and she still looked like the girl next door: straight black hair, brown eyes and a runner’s body. She was no match for the beauties that were going to be strutting around in D&G a couple of hours from now. She’d certainly been no match for Felicity Hawkins, who played Desi’s daughter and Tyler’s new leading lady. Ugh, she thought again. Method acting was highly overrated.

  With the red carpet arrivals into the theater imminent, the dark, womb-like lounge was empty. The lone bartender was texting or playing Angry Birds, and when she ordered an apple martini, he looked equal parts relieved and annoyed. Her first drink went down easy, and fast, and Angry Birds Boy slid her a second one on cue. He was about twenty-two, cute and definitely mad at the world. His disposition improved exponentially when she scribbled a 25 percent tip on her credit card slip, and he grinned at her before vanishing through the door to the kitchens. Maybe he was going to check out the action at the Benihana. He certainly didn’t seem to care if she robbed his station blind while he was gone.

  Anna slouched over her drink and checked her BlackBerry. There was already a message from Jim, the promoter from Scottsdale, saying he was excited about her concept. Thank god something about today was actually going right. For a few minutes she drank in peace, listening to the muted jingling of the slot machines out on the floor and the occasional burst of laughter. The lounge was intimate and not all that inviting for anyone looking to party. Still, it was only a matter of time before someone walked in.

  Someone did, of course. Someone who felt familiar. Too familiar.

  “You have got to be kidding me.” It was a cosmic joke. Out of all the ridiculous places to hang out in the Hilton, he’d picked here? Not the Vince Neil cantina or the steakhouse? She didn’t have to watch his progress across the bar. Her spine stiffened even before she felt his breath on the back of her neck. Tyler St. Cloud owned every room he walked into. He’d left his stamp on every inch of their one bedroom co-op…and every inch of her body. Her senses knew he was near even before he said a word. Of course, he did have to talk.

  “Anna, what are you doing here? Come to see me win?”

  She studied the rapidly dwindling green liquid in her glass. “Please. You’re not even nominated, you son of a bitch.”

  He laughed, and it made her turn around despite every bit of intelligence screaming at her to resist. “You’re still paying attention. That’s encouraging.”

  He was still six foot three, still dark haired, and still blue-eyed. Not that she’d expected any of those things to change in the four months since she’d last seen him. “I wouldn’t encourage you if you were the last man on earth.”

  He shrugged, spreading his arms out like he was about to start a monologue. “Yet, here you are. Of all the sushi bars in all the world…”

  Her fingers tightened around the stem of her martini glass, ready to snap it in two. “Go to hell, Tyler. Don’t you have a shindig to get ready for?”

  He looked so good in jeans and a white button-down that it really didn’t matter if he put on a tux or not. He’d own that carpet and the cameras.

  “Not nominated, not presenting,” he shrugged. “I could skip it if I wanted to, darlin’. Spend the rest of the night with you, catching up.”

  “You’d skip the glitz to hang out with me waxing poetic about the way we were? Right. Don’t feed me a line, Ty.” Had his eyes always been so damn blue? She tried to swivel back to her drink, but he stopped her, sliding one leg between her kne
es.

  The damn blue eyes were suddenly black with intensity. “It’s not a line, Anna. No one could’ve written us a scene this fucking perfect. You think I expected to walk in here and see my wife?”

  “Ex-wife,” she reminded. But he was right. It was straight out of a “Nights” episode: The hero walks into a random bar and sees his ex, what will he do? Meanwhile, in her wrinkled linen suit and bitterness, she didn’t fit. Like she’d stumbled in from a sitcom. That had always been their problem…even when they were just dumb kids trying to make it in New York City…the only place they’d fit had been in bed. “Ty, you’re too big. I can’t…” “Yes, you can, baby. You can take it all. Just trust me…”

  Anna had to curse herself again, because the memory flashed into her head in Technicolor and spread across her skin like a hot blush. Tyler, so close—too close—couldn’t miss her response. His knee rubbed against her thigh, scrunching up the skirt of her business suit. Property of Tyler St. Cloud.

  “Go away, Ty. I have plans,” she forced herself to say, fully aware that her body was saying something else entirely.

  “Let me guess: blowing all your money, seeing Thunder From Down Under and fucking a stranger?” His eyebrows drew together, arrogant and adorable at once. “Has that ever worked out for you?”

  “There’s a first time for everything,” she snapped.

  “I know. We experienced most of them together.” Ty knew exactly what to say. Exactly how to touch her. His fingers were under the hem of her skirt now, stroking her inner thigh… skating all the way up to where the cursive script declared she was his. She wanted to shove him. No, she wanted to yank him closer. He ducked his head and whispered hot and low against her ear. “Rewrite your plans, Anna. Blow me, let me strip for you…let me be your stranger.”