Page 34 of Pretty Mess

Cormac doesn’t seem the type to slum it, and the hotel is predictably posh—made of glass and steel with uniformed concierges at the doors. I skip their attentions and slide into the lift, riding up next to a couple dressed in suits and carrying briefcases. They’re talking in low voices, and I sneak a look at my reflection in the mirrored wall.

While I’d showered and douched earlier, Julian had gone through the contents of my wardrobe. His appalled hilarity was loud enough to hear over the sound of the running water. Ultimately, he’d denounced most of my clothes as only suitable for a morning trip to the recycling centre, apart from a pair of navy skinny trousers I’d bought last year for a wedding. Clutching those, he’d steered me through the flat to the third bedroom, which he’s turned into his wardrobe. He’d looked at and discarded clothes until settling on a pale blue cashmere jumper and white shirt. He’d given me a pair of his dress shoes, but I’d rejected them in favour of my old white Reeboks. They make me feel more me somehow and not so much like I’m playing dress up.

The lift stops, and the doors slide open on my floor. I swallow hard. Giving the couple a smile that they ignore, I edge past them and into a long corridor. The hotel doors are spaced far apart, indicating big rooms. Room 324 is at the end of the corridor, and I hesitate outside the door. Is he in there, or maybe he’s got cold feet? Maybe he’s even forgotten the appointment. I discard that thought immediately. He didn’t give the impression of a man who acts impulsively. He’d been cool and calm with a sense of deliberation about him, and I’d bet that everything in his life moves at his pace.

I think of his blue eyes, his thick dark hair, and that look on his face when he came. I can’t get that out of my mind. The ecstasy was so intense, and his whole face had softened. My cock twitches, and before I can second-guess myself, I reach out and knock on the door.

A few seconds later, the door swings open, and he’s there.

He’s dressed in another expensive suit, this one a dark Prussian blue that makes his eyes look even more vivid. His thick black hair is swept back from his thin face. We study each other for a long second, and then I decide to open my mouth, which isnevera good idea.

“Hello. Did someone order a hooker?”

His eyes widen, and he reaches out, pulling me into the room. The door shuts with an expensive click, and he turns to me with a ferocious frown.

“I’msosorry,” I say immediately. “Oh mygod, I didn’t mean to say that. I always talk shit when I’m nervous.”

The tension in the room slowly eases, and then his lip twitches. “And what is your excuse for when you’re not nervous?”

It takes a second, but then I relax. “Cheeky,” I advise him.

We stare at each other, and then he shakes his head. “I must be mad,” he observes to no one in particular.

He paces away to the window, standing with his back to me as he stares out. The silence grows, and I shift position. Has he had second thoughts? The disappointment that fills me at that thought is stunning. What’s even more troubling is I don’t know whether I’d be disappointed at not getting to fuck him or about losing the money. I eye his tall body, the broad shoulders, narrow hips, and long legs. His tailor must love him because he has the perfect body for a suit.

His hand comes up, and he massages his neck, his long fingers digging into the muscles. He carries on staring out ofthe window. I move from foot to foot and then clear my throat. “Erm, should I get naked, or have you changed your mind?” I grimace. “I wouldn’t blame you if you had to be honest. If you’re not in the mood, then sex isn’t easy. Even I sometimes don’t want it.” I pause. “That made me sound like the most sexed-up person in the United Kingdom, which is definitely not true. A friend of mine once had a shag while he was eating his breakfast which is just a step too far. Breakfast is a very important meal and?—”

He interrupts me by turning around. His face is set, but his eyes gleam with secret amusement. “Did you talk this much last time I met you?” He pauses. “Of course not. You had my dick in your mouth.”

Heat seers through me, and without thinking about it, I lower my hand to my stiffening cock.

His eyes flare. “Let’s start the way we did before. Take your clothes off, Wes.” I start to take off my jumper, and he says, “Slowly, please. I vividly remember how, last time, you tried to break the sound barrier with the speed of your disrobing.”

“Funny. You try being a new hooker. It’s not easy, you know.”

He sits down in an armchair and crosses his legs, flicking a piece of lint away carelessly. “Strip.”

I do manage to go a bit slower at first, but I’ve picked up speed by the time I drop my briefs because I’m so desperate to get to the sex bit. Luckily, I don’t think he’s noticed, as his attention is all on my body.

His eyes gleam hot and greedy as they take me in. It’s incredibly erotic to be the focus of that attention, because he seems like such a contained and reserved man otherwise.

I stand still, letting him get his fill. Eventually, he licks his full lips and my cock twitches.

“Shall I—” I stop to clear my throat. “Shall I crawl to you again?”

He looks up, his gaze arrested. “Would you like that?”

I shift awkwardly from foot to foot. “I mean, it wasn’t bad.” I suddenly remember my place and add dutifully, “It wasamazing.”

He rolls his eyes. “Save it,” he advises me. “If I were looking for honeyed words, I’d have had more luck with a bumblebee.” I blink, trying to digest that, and he gets to his feet, stretching his long body with a pleased grunt. “Get on the bed.”

I bite my lip, excitement soaring through me. “Does that mean we’re having sex?”

He cocks his head. “If that is acceptable with you?”

“Oh god, it’s more than acceptable. I really want you to fuck me.” I shut my mouth with a snap as I realise I’m babbling.

“On your hands and knees,” he commands, his eyes still hot. I hesitate and that damn eyebrow rises. “Did I stutter?”