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“You’re not playing fair. You said you would only wash me,” I whined.
“And I will. I want to hold you.”
“Did you order dinner?”
“No. They know I’m here. Whatever I order will be up to our room in fifteen minutes.”
“I’m starving.”
He let me go and grabbed a small bottle of shampoo and squirted some in his hand. The hotel provided toiletries. Oliver massaged my hair with his hands until my hair was nice and lathered then he moved me under the water. Next, he retrieved one of the washcloths stacked in a built-in shelf and put on a dollop of body wash, cleaning me from head to toe. He lingered between my legs as he cleansed me and I pushed his hand away.
He smirked. “What? I want to make sure you’re clean.”
“You’re trying to arouse me.”
“I’m doing no such thing,” he protested.
“Liar,” I mumbled.
Oliver said nothing as he helped me wash the soap off.
“My turn.”
“I can do it myself.”
“Oh no. I want to assist.”
He smirked as I washed his hair, bending his knees so I could reach the top of his head. I used my hands rather than a washcloth to clean his skin and when I got to his cock, I began to stroke him.
“Ryleigh, what are you doing?”
“You know what I’m doing.”
He hardened against my fist as I continued pumping. Oliver gripped my shoulders and closed his eyes as I made him come in great creamy spurts. His chest heaved and he leaned against me as he caught his breath.
“I think I’m done for the evening.”
“I bet.”
"Oh my God, these are so good," I exclaimed, dabbing at the burger juice running down my chin.
"They better be. I expect excellence in my hotels," Oliver replied with a satisfied smirk.
"If the rest of the food is this good...." I trailed off, savoring another bite.
We were seated at the large dining table, enjoying a late dinner. It was nearing 10:00 p.m., and I could feel the fatigue settling in. Oliver took a large bite of his burger, following it with a few pomme frites dipped in ketchup.
"Slob," I teased, laughing as he wiped his mouth.
"You're right, these are delicious," he agreed, ignoring my jab.
"I like this hotel. Let's move into the one in New York," I suggested, half-joking.
"You don't like the penthouse?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I love the penthouse, but come on, these burgers are fantastic."
"My chef can make them anytime you want. We don't need to move to the hotel."
