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Four hours ago, I was walking on clouds on Central Park South, thinking about Weaver and all the plans I had once I moved to New York to be closer to her, and now I’m in hell. My mother won’t let me go without knowing every single detail and I have to leave New York immediately for France.
“Thanks Ryan,” I say sarcastically to my brother, who’s grinning at me like the asshole he is. “Yes, Mom, I have a girlfriend. That’s actually one of the reasons I was thinking of relocating here.”
“So it’s serious?” Ryan pipes up. I ignore him. The less Ryan knows about my life, the better. My mother is scrutinizing me, and I can tell she’s curious too. She keeps staring at me, waiting for more details, but I just stare back, silently. Finally, realizing I’m not volunteering any more information, she gathers her papers and briefcase and walks toward the door.
“Christopher,” she says. My full name; that’s never a good sign. “It’s clear you’re not going to tell me about your mystery friend, so I guess I’ll just have to get the information first hand. Dinner tonight. Eight o’clock. The Supper Club. Bring her.”
It’s not an invitation I can refuse.
Two more useless meetings and a business lunch later, I’m back at the Plaza Hotel, practically running through the lobby and sliding into the elevator right before it closes. The older couple inside give me a peculiar look, and I smile back at them. Despite the change in plans tonight and the inquisition Weaver and I are sure to experience at dinner, I can’t keep a smile off my face. Weaver is positively intoxicating. I thought about her all day, and now that I’m minutes from seeing her, I can hardly stand it. We texted a couple of times during the day, and she said she’d be here at five after dropping off Kate at the airport, but I still feel anxious, like she may just slip between my fingers. It’s hard to believe that this is real.
I pause at the door and listen for any sounds inside. It’s silent. I slide in my keycard and hold my breath, opening the door slowly. It’s dark inside, and it takes a while for my eyes to adjust. But there she is, standing by the window, completely naked. She looks as beautiful as always. Her soft features are glowing in the light from the street, her hair frames her face gently, light waves across her forehead. And then she does me in. She turns toward me, and even though her body is fucking fantastic, it’s her smile that has me stalking toward her across the room. The way she looks at me with complete acceptance and warmth and promises. Sexy promises and playful promises. Promises I’m too afraid to speak yet, unless I jinx them.
“I thought I told you on the bed,” I say, tossing my briefcase aside and taking off my jacket in the few steps it takes to reach her.
“I couldn’t resist this view,” she says. “I love watching that horse down there, around and around the park he goes.” I wrap my arms around her from behind and look down to where she’s pointing. The handsome cab is pulling up in front of the park, and as one couple climbs down, another waits to climb in.
Her skin feels so warm under my fingers, and I squeeze her extra hard, convincing myself that she’s real, she’s mine. “I particularly like this view,” I whisper in her ear, looking down her neck, at her breasts, her nipples hard from standing so close to the cold glass. “I haven’t thought about anything else all day, you know. You ruined me for business today.” I press my lips to her neck and feel her pulse beating steadily beneath my lips. She smells fresh, like the citrus soap in the hotel shower. “You smell so good,” I say, nibbling the shell of her ear and feeling her skin come alive under my touch with goosebumps and shivers. “Come with me.” I pull her backwards until I feel the bed behind me. I turn her around and kiss her, my tongue delving deep into her mouth and then seeking her neck, kissing up and down in the way she loves that has her grabbing at my ass and pulling me closer. But I’m not ready. Not yet.
I push her backwards onto the bed. She lays there, propping herself up on her elbows and watching me expectantly. I don’t plan to disappoint her. I take my time undressing despite the growing need in my cock. She’s laid out for me, a perfect feast, and the longer I wait, the better it will be. Her eyes are on me and they’re hungry. I unbutton my shirt slowly, enjoying the tension I see growing on her face. When it’s off, I throw it aside. I’d planned to take off my pants, so I can feel her completely, skin to skin, but then I see it. The way she quirks her head a bit to the side, the way her lips are parted, the way her hips dip into the bed, as if there’s something urgent happening between her legs. And I’m helpless to ignore that need, those signs that she wants me, that I’m affecting her like that. I don’t wait. I drop to my knees at the side of the bed and pull her halfway off of it by the ankles. She squeals in surprise, but it quickly turns to a moan as I latch my mouth over her pussy. I spread her open with my fingers, and lick her from top to bottom. I rest my mouth over her, letting her earthy scent fill my nostrils, her flavor bathes my tongue. I moan into her and she jumps, her hands flying to my head and grasping at my hair. I swipe at her clit with my tongue and feel her jump underneath me. I press a hand flat against her stomach to keep her still. I lick her again and feel her abs tighten beneath my palm. Again. And again. Another lick, but this time I look up at her, and see her watching me. The expression on her face, the unabashed lust, makes my cock strain against my wool pants, and I have to reach down to stroke it.
