by Camryn Rhys
“Come on, cowboy.” She laughed and opened her legs wider so he could see her naked pussy under the dress. “Ride me.”
He needed no more encouragement. She felt him slide into her and exhaled slowly as he started a good rhythm. With careful dexterity, he shifted them so he sat on the seat and she rode astride with her knees on either side of his hips.
His big hands settled on her waist and moved her at the rhythm he’d built up. With those same earnest eyes, Paul watched her in her ecstasy. Something about his gaze cracked her wide open and a dark, cloistered fear clutched at her. She leaned forward, snaking her hands around his neck, and pushing her hips at an even more furious pace.
Just as their moans started to sync up, and she was deciding whether or not she would fake her orgasm, she felt a rough pressure on her clitoris. Sylvie couldn’t help crying out in an almost animalistic way.
“Mmmmm. Sylvie.” His mouth latched onto her ear again and between his finger being a bit to the left and his tongue about to twist her into two pieces, she shifted a little. While it did manage to keep his tongue from rendering her senseless, it also set the pad of his thumb right on pay dirt, and after two more thrusts, she disintegrated all around him anyway. His grunt of male satisfaction wasn’t lost on her as she fell apart in his arms, and with a few more thrusts, he was coming as well.
Chapter Four
Paul waited for Sylvie to uncoil from around him, but she remained nonverbal after two minutes of sitting, parked, in the red line behind the Castillo Hotel. While a small part of him hadn’t stopped feeling proud of her response to him, another part worried they were done for the night and she hadn’t planned on taking him up to her room at all.
The only thing he could do was wait. He tossed the used condom in the covered garbage can and zipped up his jeans, thinking this might wake his sleeping blonde.
“You should take her upstairs, sir.” Raul’s mellow voice cracked when he finally spoke. He carried no authority to allow Paul into Sylvie’s bedroom. But he was obviously worried about remaining parked in a place where he might be asked to leave at any time.
“Do you know how to get up there?” Paul asked, his arms wide. “I haven’t been to her room yet.”
“She’ll be in her father’s suite. The company keeps a set of rooms at the Castillo for when Mr. Martin is here on business.” Raul looked over his shoulder through the window, where it should be noted, he’d just watched them have sex. “On the forty-second floor, they’ll be in Studio H.”
Paul reached for Sylvie’s clutch and thrust the door open. The back of the Castillo Hotel was not part of the tourist attraction. A guy could almost call it quiet. A few limousines parked along the roundabout. One very wildly painted motorcycle sat among them, but otherwise, it looked and smelled like rich people.
He leaned in and gathered Sylvie into his arms. She finally gave some sign of consciousness, slinging her arm around his neck. As he walked around the car, he fished in her clutch for something resembling a hotel card. He couldn’t find anything laying out in the open, except for her red card, and before he snooped through her overflowing wallet, he decided to go with his instinct. Maybe it was some kind of universal passport.
She felt good in his arms. Fit right. Snuggled in all the right places, she was easier to carry than a newborn foal. Made his heart warm a little, too, like carting around the babies who couldn’t walk yet. Thinking about what his life might be like if he’d made different choices. Gotten married when he could have. Had kids. Made a guy think sometimes.
He flashed the red card to the doorman, who swiped it somewhere in his kiosk and the lock on the dark-lit glass door disengaged. The suited man then slipped around to open the door for Paul and returned the card.
“Welcome to the Castillo, sir. Can I have something sent up to your room for the Mrs.?” The doorman gestured at Sylvie and warmth crept back into Paul’s chest.
He smiled down into her hazy eyes and noted the strange empty feeling in his own stomach. Typically, he would have eaten at the party. But between Alan and Sylvie, he’d been…distracted.
“Send up some tea and coffee. And a couple of steaks. And a dessert sampler.” Paul kept turning back to add one more thing, and every time he did, Sylvie shifted a little closer. “And some champagne. Nothing fancy. Just good champagne.”
He could afford to blow a bunch of money on dinner when she was paying for the hotel room. And after the sex they’d just had, they both needed sustenance. Especially if they planned to have any more.
Sylvie exhaled into his neck and he could have sworn his cock twitched. He allowed himself a smile at her foal-like behavior and hit the elevator button. One of her legs kicked out as though she might try to step somewhere, and he let her legs go. She still clutched at his neck, but now she nuzzled his whole body instead of his torso.
“You make for a good date, cowboy,” she said. With a tiny grunt, she pushed away and gazed into his face. He kept hands on her back, just in case. “Sorry, I don’t normally get loopy. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“It’s been a full evening.”
“Yeah.” She giggled. “It’s too bad I can’t tell my father about making out next to Alan and his bimbo. Trip highlight.”
“He won’t want to know?” Paul peered into the empty elevator as the doors opened, thankful not to see another person. He guided her inside and pressed the button for the forty-second floor, hoping Raul’s directions were correct.
Sylvie waved a hand at the thought. “Everyone knows Alan is unfaithful.” She took a deep breath, almost thoughtful. “I won’t be able to tell my father about you.”
Paul felt a curious pressure in his chest and dismissed it. “Why not?”
“Because you are my secret.” She put her finger on his lips. “Shhh.”
Like last time, Paul sucked her finger into his mouth and held it there, stroking it with his tongue. She leaned toward him, as though mesmerized by what magic he worked with her stray appendage.
“Everyone needs a secret,” he said when he released her finger. “You can bet I’m gonna tell everyone I know about you. No names, of course.”
A strange cloud settled across her face. “I would love to be able to do that.”
He couldn’t help stroking her cheek, trying to bring her back to whatever happy-go-lucky place she’d abandoned. “Then go ahead. You’re an adult.”
“Only in Vegas.” She pulled him toward her and locked her lips onto his, prying his mouth open and seeking out his tongue. Paul arched his back to keep her upright and held her close to him, awakening the monster that wanted to be inside her again.
He’d never thought about a true one-night stand. Knowing they only had one night didn’t bother him until—faced with the reality he might not see Sylvie again come the morning—he tried to think of all the ways he could keep her awake for as long as they needed to fully explore what unfolded between them.
Surely she hadn’t intended to hold to the one night limit. No matter what the rules.
***
Sylvie hadn’t felt this loopy since the last time she’d been drunk. And even then, it played a close second. She didn’t know what button her orgasm had flipped, but she hadn’t been able to move at first, and then hadn’t wanted to, and now, she needed to collapse into bed and take Paul with her. Maybe forever.
She felt his erection pressing against her stomach as she ground him against the elevator wall. When it dinged and the heavy door slid open, she grabbed the card from his hand and ran down the hallway.
Her father’s rooms waited at the end of the hall, and Paul caught up to her before she made the door. But she still managed to swipe the card, even with Paul’s mouth covering hers and his face blocking her field of vision.
It had felt good to be carried.
A tiny sob threatened at the back of her throat and she forced it down. She refused to ruin her wonderful fantasy with any kind of reality.
Once they were in t
he room with the door closed, Sylvie felt a frantic need for nakedness. Whatever he thought of her body, she didn’t care. She wanted her skin on his.
She yanked her dress off, breaking their kiss but not their eye contact. His hungry look drove her on, bringing her pile of clothing on the expensively upholstered couch back to a surprising four pieces before she even thought about stopping. The air in the hotel room raised her gooseflesh, now that not a stitch stood between her and her cowboy.
He never took his eyes off her, choosing to watch her discard clothing the way a cougar might watch a doe at riverside. It made her stomach do acrobatics. He wanted her, and she loved it. As soon as she’d placed her panties on the pile, she lunged at him, snaking her legs around his waist and finding his mouth again with hers.
“You never let me….” He busied himself with a round of kisses. “Tell you how beautiful you are.” More kisses.
“There isn’t time.” She kissed down the side of his neck and reached for the bottom of his shirt. “I have plans.” She pulled his shirt over his head and hummed in appreciation when her nipples made contact with the dusting of hair on his chest. “Take me to the bedroom.”
Sylvie sucked his neck as Paul carried her toward the nearest door. It happened to be a bathroom, but she kept licking the scruffy underside of his chin with appreciative sounds as he continued through the giant bathroom, toward the next door. This wasn’t her bedroom, but it would do.
They collapsed on the bed and every part of her skin seemed covered in Paul. It felt delicious and electrifying. For a moment, he enveloped her. Sylvie arched her back and raised her arms over her head.
“Oh, Paul,” she whispered against his cheek as he kissed her earlobe again. The same thrill that had claimed her in the car threatened again.
Her words encouraged him, because all she could feel for a moment was his tongue and the threat of forever, like the interminable drop over a cliff’s edge. She almost stopped breathing when his hand meandered down her stomach and toward her center.
“Come on, now, sweetheart,” he coaxed. “You are so beautiful when you come.”
A little shadow of something flitted to the surface, and Sylvie almost protested, but the need for release and the desire to trust him overwhelmed anything that might be trying to pull her back into reality.
He found her clitoris again, and the way he worked her up toward release made her silently thank whatever women he’d been trying to please his whole life that he worked so hard to make her come first. God bless those women.
Sylvie ran her hands up his muscled back and arched toward him whenever the tide rolled within. He pulled back, hovering over her, and slid his middle finger inside her, switching to his thumb on her clit, and she had to close her eyes as her breathing quickened.
She put her hands on his chest, half for stability, and half because she hoped he would get so turned on by her teasing his nipples he’d forget all this let’s-make-Sylvie-come business and put on a condom.
And the half that wanted him to stop gained surprising momentum. Tonight should be her one-night stand. A nice, random guy who wanted to fuck a lot, waste a few condoms, and then let her get back to her real life.
That was why she hadn’t minded giving him a leg up when it came to Alan Pike. He did more for her than he realized, and she wanted to give back. But maybe her helpful urge was a mistake. Now, he’d know at least one person who knew her. He’d know how to get in touch with her, hold her hostage.
Sylvie opened her eyes, and he still hovered, still watched, still waited. Something stung behind her eyes. She put her hands on his shoulders and pulled. “Let’s get my condoms.”
“I have plenty of condoms.” He held his posture over her. “I want to watch you come again.” He increased his pressure on her clit and she jerked at the jolt of pleasure threatening to turn straight into orgasm.
“But I want you to come, too.” She pulled harder on his shoulders, but to no avail.
“There will be time.” He began to rotate his thumb in circles and her breath hitched. “There we go, my girl.”
She couldn’t hold back. He dipped to kiss her and swirled his tongue inside her mouth. The orgasm overtook her and she couldn’t think herself out of it. She could only lie open to him, pant her ecstasy, and be thankful that, at least during these moments of pleasure, the world outside disappeared. Maybe not for good, but at least while she lay in the arms of a half-clad cowboy with magic fingers and endless eyes.
Chapter Five
Sylvie felt the warmth of a blanket over her as Paul promised to return. She saw him pull his wallet out of his back pocket and hoped he would put on a condom and stop all this business about watching her come. She couldn’t come like that again, or she’d be down for the whole count. All whatever it took to declare somebody knocked out. Fallen.
But instead of a naked, condom-wearing hot cowboy, the next thing through the door of the bedroom was an intoxicating smell. Maybe she’d drifted right off to sleep and begun dreaming. It would make sense she’d dream about food. She’d had celery and a tablespoon of hummus on the plane, and managed to steer clear of everything delicious at the party.
A clamoring of wheels and silver things clinking distracted her from her dream assumption. She couldn’t summon the energy to prop herself up on her elbows, so she craned around to get a better look at the door. Paul pushed a massive cart into the room, and she knew where the food smells had come from.
His silvery skin appeared darker in the strange hotel light, and she took him in for a moment. She had never seen a more beautiful or exotic man in her entire life. She wouldn’t kick him out of bed. At least for one night.
But then panic gripped her. Had he signed all that food to her room? Her father would see the bill. He’d be so angry, he might stop her coming back next year. And what if she wanted to see Paul again? Okay, best not to go there.
“No. It has to go back.”
Paul stopped and quirked his head. “You didn’t eat all night. Aren’t you hungry?”
“Of course, but—” she stopped, unsure of how to explain in a way that wouldn’t make her sound crazy. If there was a way. “I can’t charge things to the rooms.”
Shit. She’d admitted her hunger. Battle lost.
“Don’t worry. I paid for it myself. I ordered it when we were down in the limo.” He smiled broadly as he pushed the tray to the edge of her bed and uncovered everything with an almost theatrical enthusiasm.
“I saw the way you eyed the buffet at the party, and I felt bad that I kept you away from it, so I ordered us a good meal.”
The table overflowed with plates of deliciousness. Two beautifully plated steak dinners with a rich red sauce over fluffy piles of mashed potatoes stacked on uniformly cut beds of asparagus. Then a long silver platter packed with every type of decadent dessert Sylvie could imagine. Oh, God. Crème brûlée. Her weakness. They’d also included tea and coffee for two, and a bucket of champagne.
After she’d been staring at the food for too long, Paul put a warm hand on her shoulder. “You look like you’re about to cry.”
Something bald and honest about his statement hit Sylvie straight in the chest, and she had to breathe for a moment before she could answer. “I need to use the bathroom.” She slid across the bed, away from Paul, and scampered to the door, locking herself inside.
She sat on the toilet and stared at her toes, trying to get centered again. Her father would be furious if he knew she was about to indulge. Should fear of his anger keep her from doing it?
No, she’d already made up her mind she was going to do it. Her stomach begged for it. If she could have one good meal, and a good fuck, she’d be satisfied. She might even work off the carbs if their sex turned acrobatic enough. Or she could get up extra early and run a few more miles than usual before she caught her flight.
She flushed the empty toilet and washed her hands at the giant vanity, turning around in front of the mirror. She poked at her reddened
breasts and smoothed the mostly flat lines of her stomach and shuddered at the memory of Paul’s hands on her. Too bad she couldn’t indulge every day, because she had a feeling she would enjoy this immensely.
***
Paul tore into the meat like an animal feeding, and he’d seen enough of the wild to know what it really looked like. He dabbed at his chin with the cloth napkin and glanced up as Sylvie came out of the bathroom, her gorgeous nakedness covered in a big white bathrobe.
He shook his head and held out a hand for her to come to him. Reluctant, she padded over and took the offer. “I say this with the utmost respect, because of course, I don’t know you that well yet, but part of my fantasy includes you eating naked.” He winked at her.
Instead of the playful girl who sometimes came out in her, he found the shy girl staring at him with giant blue eyes, somewhat downcast. “You want me to eat naked?”
“I’ll tell you what,” Paul released her and stood. He put down his fork and opened the now slightly more roomy jeans, shedding them with hungry haste. With thumbs on the band of his boxers, he said, “I’ll get naked if you will.”
“And we’ll both eat naked?” She chewed the edge of the bathrobe and Paul stifled the urge to pull her back into bed. They both needed to eat.
He pulled off his boxers and sat back on one side of the table. A tiny smile creased her beautiful lips and she opened the bathrobe. “How about I open it a little for now?”
“Ooooh,” Paul said with steak in his mouth already, “I like the teasing.” He tugged at the thick white sleeve and pulled her onto the bed on the other side of the table. “Here, have some dinner.”
She looked at the clock. “It’s after ten. We shouldn’t be eating this late.”
“No shoulding on my dinner, now.” He waved his hand over the steak, trying to fan some of the delectable aroma toward her. “You’re not going to believe the food.”