by Mac Flynn
Before I knew what had happened I lay with my back on the couch cushions. Rob stood over me with his naked chest bared to me and his shirt on the ground with my clothes. His hungry eyes swept over me and I squirmed beneath his hot, needful gaze.
"Please," I whispered.
I didn't need to ask twice. He dove down and covered my body with his. One of his hands tossed aside my bra and the other worked his magic on the small nub between my legs. His finger pressed and stroked my sensitive clit. Every little tease heightened the strain inside my body. His hot, wet lips suckled the top of my pert breasts. I clutched onto his strong back and pressed myself into his delicious, delicate touches and teases. The rest of his clothes joined mine on the ground, and his thick, swollen member pressed against my inner thigh. My body was on fire with lust, a feeling only he could extinguish with him inside me. I needed him to take me, to make me his.
"Please take me," I groaned.
He was only too happy to oblige. He positioned himself at my warm entrance and thrust inside. My wet, heated walls were more than ready. He slid inside and was enveloped in their soft, delicious embrace. His manhood pulsed inside me and he panted for air. His eyes looked down at me with a fire of lust that, like mine, could only be appeased with carnal pleasure. He needed me as much as I needed him.
He thrust slowly at first, achingly slowly. Each stroke stoked the fire higher. It was delicious torture, and yet not enough. I needed more of him. I needed a faster tempo to appease the lust that burned inside me. I leaned up and nibbled on his ear. My sweet words tingled his ear.
"Faster. Take me hard and fast," I pleaded.
He grunted and thrust hard inside me. I moaned and lifted my hips to allow deeper penetration. He raised himself on his elbows and looked down at me with such desire and love that I lost myself. I knew only him. He was my whole world, and that world demanded satisfaction for our shared lust, our primitive need to become one with another human being. To know them like we knew no one else.
He thrust harder and faster into me. Each penetration was a desperate need to fulfill our desires. The craving I had for him shook my body with tremors of sensual quakes. Our wet, naked bodies slid against each other as we sought to become one, to meld into a union of lust that would take us to new heights of pleasure.
The tremors happened slowly. My muscles began to contract as the pleasure washed over my quivering, tense body. I clutched onto him as he penetrated me faster than I could keep up. Each thrust brought me closer to bliss, to a heaven only he could create for me.
"Yes. Oh god, yes. Make me yours," I whispered into his ear.
His grunts filled my own ears. He wrapped his arms around me and pressed me against his slick, warm body. The small hints of coming pleasure changed to waves of delight that crashed over me. My eyes widened and I arched my back as my orgasm took me.
"Yes! Yes!" I chanted to the air.
He thrust a few more times before he spilled into me. I gasped when his great weight fell atop me and he lay still.
"Air," I choked out.
"Sorry," came the muffled reply. He raised himself onto his arms and smiled down at me. His face and hair were still soaked in cooling sweat, and his eyes dazzled in the lingering heat of our lovemaking. "That was incredible," he told me.
I slyly grinned at him and shrugged. "I don't know, I've had better." His face drooped so fast that I laughed and patted him on the shoulder. "I was joking. That was pretty good."
His grin returned. "Then how about another run?"
I wiggled my hips and cringed. "Maybe not."
"Maybe later?"
I rolled my eyes. "Don't you boys ever rest?"
He leaned down and brushed his nose against mine. "There's no rest for the wicked," he commented.
"Well, this wicked girl is going to get some rest so she isn't beaten before we reach the beach," I insisted. I grabbed his arms and tried to push him off, but he held firm. "We have to disconnect some time," I told him.
He looked down at me with a rare pensive expression. "Physically yes, but you know I won't let you go. Not after this."
I furrowed my brow. "You're serious, aren't you? This really isn't a one-afternoon stand, is it?"
He leaned down and pecked a soft kiss on my lips. "Does that answer your question."
I smiled and cupped his cheek in my hand. "I suppose this means you'll be following me on more lonely vacations."
"There won't be anymore lonely vacations for you."
I laughed. "Good. That's one less person I have to worry about getting mixed up in compartments again."
We never had that problem again, and I was never in want of company. Not when I had my billionaire at my side.
TRAPPED IN TEMPTATION #3
CHAPTER 1
He had me in his strong, possessive arms. I was his and his alone. He would never let me free. His possessive nature only excited me more. I shuddered as his hand slid beneath my shirt. His fingers brushed against my bra and clutched my breast in his strong grasp. The fever inside me built to an unbearable temperature. I squirmed and softly moaned. The lust inside me demanded more than his touch. It demanded a violent penetration that would take me beyond heaven.
My lover leaned towards me. His brow crashed down and his bespectacled eyes were full of concern. "Are you all right?"
I shot up from my seat and whipped my head around. I was on the metro, and my lover was really a middle-aged man in a clean gray suit. By his side on the floor was a suitcase. I had to bite back a groan of disappointment. I sat on one of the hard-cushioned seats of a metro train that sped along its bumpy track to points known. My numb butt cheeks complained of the distance they'd flown and ridden during this long day.
I shook myself and managed a smile. "I'm fine. I was just-um, just a little jet-lagged," I told him.
"Not used to flying?" he mused.
I shook my head. "No, I fly all the time, but sometimes all those miles catch up to me."
His eyebrows raised. "Corporate job?"
"Something like that. I'm a travel writer for an online company," I explained.
"Really?" he mused.
I couldn't help but notice that his eyes swept over my body. My physique wasn't exactly made for exercise. I was a little on the chubby side, and that was being kind. "I get to eat a lot of good food," I told him.
"I see. So come to our fair city for a peak and a peck?" he wondered.
"Yep. I'm here to see a few of the less-traveled sights and write about them," I concurred.
"Seen anything of particular interest you'll write about?" he asked me.
I laughed and shook my head. "I haven't seen anything but the back of my eyeballs. Besides, I just got here and I need to check into my room first before I go traipsing everywhere with my camera." I kicked my luggage roller beside me for emphasis.
"Where are you staying?" he asked me.
"The Asta," I replied.
His eyes widened. "You must be a pretty good writer to stay there. That's the most expensive hotel in town."
I smiled and shrugged. "I'm not that good of a writer, but the company decides where I stay and they like to keep up appearances."
"But it's a thousand dollars a night, not including amenities. Your company will go bankrupt if they keep that up," he pointed out.
I snorted. "I guess that explains why I only get a week to find the sights and write about them."
He started back and frowned. "A week? It would take a month just to explore the historic district!" he argued.
"Next stop, Uptown District," the shrill voice screeched to the passengers.
Saved by the screech. I smiled at the man and stood. "I guess I'll have to walk fast."
I couldn't miss as his eyes roamed over my pudgy body. I looked more like a food-travel guide than a location-travel guide. "Good luck. You're going to need it."
The metro stopped and I stumbled off with my luggage in tow. My station was below ground and two stairs on either side
led to the surface. There was an elevator between them for people with heavy roller bags like mine. Ahead of me was a map of the area and the metro. I headed for the map and glanced over the city details searching for the street with my hotel.
"Any way I can help you?" a voice spoke up beside me.
I turned and my eyes fell on a handsome young man of about twenty-five. He had short, sandy-colored hair and a wide smile that was reflected in his blue eyes. The man wore a casual suit and held a briefcase in one hand. The way his eyes looked at me was a little unnerving. There was an intensity in their depths that confused me, but also ignited a strange, sensual heat inside me that was hard to tamp down. Maybe that was because I didn't really want to tamp it down.
But this wasn't my first time around strangers, so I gave him a shaky smile in return and shook his head. "No, that's fine. I found where I needed to go." That wasn't true, but I needed to escape his entrancing eyes.
"Where's that?" he wondered.
"The Asta." I noticed his eyes widened a little. "Is something wrong?"
He gathered himself and shook his head. "No, I was just thinking what a strange world we live in." He held out his free hand to me. "The name's John."
I reluctantly shook his hand. His fingers were warm to the touch and I felt a pleasurable shock flow up my arm. I pulled away as quickly as I could without being rude. "Um, Beatrix," I told him.
"That's a very interesting and uncommon name," he mused.
I shrugged. "My parents were old fashioned. Anyway, it was nice meeting you, John." I strode past him towards the elevator, and was both relieved and disappointed when I didn't hear the clack of his shoes follow me.
I reached the elevator just as it opened and clamored in with a half dozen other people. I turned around and glimpsed John standing five yards from the elevator entrance. He had a peculiar smile on his face, and he bowed his head to me. I blushed and was glad when the elevator doors shut on his beautiful eyes.
The elevator rose to street level and we stepped out onto the busy sidewalk. Skyscrapers towered above us and blocked out most of the dark night sky. Ten feet away cars zoomed up and down the winding road. I walked over to a map and traced my path to the hotel. It was a few long blocks away from where I stood.
"Should've called. . ." I muttered to myself. I sighed and shrugged. "Well, nothing else to do but go for it." I hitched up my pants, readjusted my grip on my luggage, and strode up the street.
CHAPTER 2
Twenty minutes later I limped through the twirling doors and into the lobby of the grand Asta Hotel. The establishment was decadent. There were columns on either side of the carpeted marble floor, and the desk that the carpet led to was of the finest ancient oak. Horse-hair chairs sat in front of the columns, and beyond the columns were small sitting areas. The clientele wore new suits, new dresses, and new faces. Plastic surgery was an expense even the grand hotel couldn't beat.
The lobby was more crowded and noisy than I expected. There were large groups of middle-aged men situated around the lobby, and many of them wore cheap name tags. The names were unreadable, and what they talked about was nearly unintelligible.
"The endoscopy found not one, but two lesions along the gastrointestinal tract," one of the men in a group explained to his attentive audience.
"What did you do?" one of them asked.
He smiled and puffed up. "I performed surgery right then and there to repair the damage and what did I find? A nut, of all things! It was stuck on the wall of the colon! That was the problem all along, and not a tumor!"
The men gasped and some clapped. The storyteller bowed his head while his audience shook his hand.
I walked the long mile down the red carpet to the long, wide front desk. Behind the desk were mailboxes for their more permanent residences. A young man in a suit emblazoned with the letters AH manned the front desk, but before him, like a dark shadow, was the manager, or at least that's what his gold name tag told me. There was a computer screen and keyboard just to the right of the junior employee.
"Good evening. How can I help you?" the young man asked me.
I wheeled my luggage beside me and took out my internet receipt from my employer. "I have a reservation under the name of Beatrix Hale for National Travels," I explained as I handed over the paper.
The young man looked over the contents and typed my confirmation number into the computer. He read the screen and frowned. "Um, one moment, Miss Hale. I need to ask my supervisor a question." He turned to the manager. "Mr. Roman, there seems to be a problem with a reservation."
Mr. Roman, a tall, thin scarecrow of a man, raised a patrician eyebrow and walked over to his underling. He spoke in a high, nasally voice. "We don't have problems, Mr. Skit, we have solutions that have questions."
"I have the question here, sir," Skit replied as he pointed at the screen.
Roman leaned towards the screen and frowned. His eyes flicked to me. "Did you make this reservation yourself, Miss Hale?"
My heart skipped a beat as I shook my head. "No, the travel agency for my employer did. Why? What's the-um, question?"
"You've arrived during an annual physicians convention held here every year, and all the rooms are booked," Roman explained.
I frowned and pointed at my receipt. "But that says I have a room, and this trip was booked months ago."
"Yes, well, there is a room, but it's the one we normally reserve for employee clients such as the CEO and so forth," Roman told me.
"Is anyone here like that?" I asked him.
"No, but they may arrive at any minute of the day," he warned me.
I leaned over the desk and glared at him. "So what you're trying to tell me is that you have a room, but it's reserved for somebody who isn't here, and that leaves me out of a hotel room for a week?" I guessed.
Roman pursed his lips and his eyes flitted to the screen. "We may be able to accommodate you at one of our affiliate hotels."
I stepped back, lifted my leg and slammed my foot on the desk in front of them. The men started back and the rest of the lobby fell silent. All eyes turned to me, but my narrow ones were on the two men in front of me. "My feet are killing me, and you're telling me I have to do more traveling because you won't give me a room that's empty?"
"Good evening, Mr. Roman," a familiar voice spoke up behind me.
The employees looked past me with wide eyes. I spun around and nearly toppled my foot off the desk. Behind me stood the mysterious helpful man from the metro. He strode up to the desk and glanced between my foot and the faces of the two men. "You two look like you've seen a ghostly foot. Surely her shoe isn't haunted," he commented. Their faces were indeed a little pale.
"M-Mr. Asta, we had no idea you were coming," the manager stuttered. My own eyes grew wide at the mention of that name attached to an individual, and in that hotel.
Asta plopped his suitcase on the counter beside my shoe. "Well, I'm here now, and I'm looking forward to a nice long bath in my suite. Is it ready?"
"I-I'm afraid there's a slight problem, Mr. Asta." Roman gestured with one hand to me. "You see, this young lady was given your room."
Asta turned to me with that devilish smile of his. "That's very rude of us to boot out a client on my account. Surely you can give me a new room," he suggested.
Roman shook his head. "No, we can't, Mr. Asta, unless we moved someone else. The other rooms are booked."
Asta half-turned to the manager and raised an eyebrow. "That's not very wise, and I believe against company policy. All our hotels are supposed to have at least one spare room left open in case of these kinds of mishaps."
"The VIP room is our overflow room, sir," Roman told him.
"Ah, I see the problem." Asta turned to me and my stretched-out leg. "You're rather more flexible than you look," he commented.
The lobby crowds still gawked at my blunt show of force, so I pulled my leg off the desk. I winced when my muscles complained of the prolonged stretching exercise. "It's all the fa
t inside me, but idle chit-chat won't solve my problem."
"And what's your problem?" he wondered.
"That you took my room."
He chuckled. "I have a very simple solution to that. We will stay in the room together."
The mouths of the two employees and my own dropped open. This was a nightmare wrapped in a suspense-horror story with a dash of black comedy on top.
"But sir, there's only one bed!" Roman argued.
"You heard him, one bed!" I chimed in.
"It's a large bed," he countered.
Roman's eyes flickered over the thick crowds behind us. "But sir, what will the other guests think?" he insisted.
Asta smiled and held up his hand. "All right, all right, we'll work something out in the bedroom, and part ways there."
I frowned at him. "Why don't we work things out here and part ways here?"
He nodded at the crowds. "I would rather deal my business transactions in a quieter setting. That is, unless you care to walk with me to a restaurant I know."
I cringed and my feet whimpered. "The room sounds nice," I gave in.
"Good!" Asta turned to Roman and held out his hand. "Our keys, Mr. Roman."
Roman reluctantly removed two pairs of keys from a pegboard to his left and dropped them into Asta's open palm. Asta turned to me. He offered me his arm and a smile. "May I escort you, my lady?"
I was flattered, but managed a nonchalant shrug as I looped one arm through his and grabbed my luggage. "All right, but I'll want you out of my room fast," I scolded him.
He chuckled and led me towards the elevator. "We shall see, my good lady. We shall see."
CHAPTER 3
Asta led me into the elevator and he pressed the button for the top floor. The doors closed and I released my hold on his arm and leaned against the far wall of the elevator. My feet ached from the walk, and my butt was regaining feeling after the long plane ride. The feeling it transmitted to me was one of pain.
"Are you feeling well?" Asta asked me.
I sighed, but nodded. "Yeah, just tired."
"You can stay in the room as long as you want," he invited me.