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Even so, I don’t even make it two steps before my shoes, the soles a tad too worn, slide across the marble, one foot finding yet another rogue dildo, and I slip, falling back into whomever, it was I just dick-whacked.
‘Ooomph.’ Firm, hard arms wrap around me in the seconds before the person and I land on the floor with a hard thud.
Seconds pass, maybe a minute. I’m not sure.
The air has been knocked out of my lungs and oxygen deprivation may be skewing my sense of time. All I know is that the tiny shimmering crystals on the chandelier above me twinkle in and out of focus while my lungs fight their way back to working order.
The person’s arms are still wrapped around my midsection, but loosely. Unfortunately, now that the adrenaline is wearing off, I’m too scared to move. I can only shift my eyes to the left, toward the floor-length mirror on the closet door. And when I do, my mouth drops open.
The oxygen I’ve been fighting to inhale, vanishes once more.
There, flat on his back, his brow pinched (but still looking every inch as though he belongs in the fabulously expensive suite), is the man who occupies an infuriating amount of my thoughts – Thomas Moore.
And though one of his eyes is fast swelling shut from Thrusty making contact with his orbital bone, the other is clearly fixed on me – eye-shouting, What the actual fuck?
* * *
Thomas
What the actual fuck?
I’d just finished rinsing off travel grime in the bathroom’s steam shower when I heard a bang from the living room. It had taken a moment to dry off and grab the hotel’s monogramed bathrobe before padding through the bedroom and down the hall to see what made the loud noise.
It took even longer to process what I found once I turned the corner.
‘Oh-my-God-oh-my-God.’ Alice rolls off me, her hipbone digging into my stomach, forcing a grunt from my lips.
I want to say something to calm her down, but honestly, now that I know she isn’t injured from the fall, it’s all I can do just to lay here and regroup while I internalize the pain from my face having exploded on impact from the hefty, nearly TSA confiscated, penile contraband.
Don’t think about that.
Because even though I should very much welcome a distraction from the intense throbbing around my left eye, the image of Alice trying to wrap her plump, pretty lips around the tip of said monstrous phallus will start a different sort of throbbing. One below my robe’s belt.
‘Stay there,’ Alice instructs me, though I don’t know where she expects me to go. Her shoes clack rapidly across the floor.
What is she even doing here?
Trying to clear the tears from my one working eye, I blink, thinking back to mere seconds ago when I was pain-free and envisioning an evening with my brother. One last night to bridge the gap that our decades-long rift had caused, before he moves on into married life.
But when I’d walked into the suite’s living area after hastily tying my robe, it wasn’t my devil-may-care brother crashing my room early – it was Alice Truman.
Alice Truman, whose earlier accidental touch inspired a thousand fantasies that I exorcised moments ago in the shower, had been double-fisting a cock of gigantic proportions and opening her mouth wide as she attempted to take it in.
My memory is hazy after that. I think I moved closer. Whether to stop her, talk to her or just get a better look, I’m not sure. All I do know is that I ended up assaulted by a hefty dildo and am now lying down on the cold, hard marble floor of a Bellagio suite with the wind knocked out of me.
If I believed in karma, this would be it.
The footsteps return. ‘Here.’
My face erupts in pain again, and then cold bliss.
Alice had grabbed a can of sparkling water from the fridge. One she’s fumbled, as if in the last second she became afraid of actually touching me, and dropped it the last few inches on my injured face.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Alice says, flitting from spot to spot picking things up off the ground and throwing them into the open suitcase on the floor.
My vision isn’t the best at the moment, even my good eye is still blurry, but I saw enough earlier to know she’s collecting sex toys.
The realization sinks in and nothing can stop the only real phallus in the room from reacting. I adjust my robe with the hand not holding the soda can to my face, making sure I haven’t offered up one more penis to the party.
