He wasn’t wearing underwear. Naughty Boy, and I told him so. It made it easy to hold his cock as we walked out of the dimly lit lounge. We approached the elevators and I pressed for the lift.
Once inside, I used my body to press him up to the elevator wall. I could feel his heart ramming against his ribs. I pushed myself into him and felt how hard he was, and so I moved my torso back and forth on him and he moaned softly. The lift stopped, but not on my floor. A couple got on and the door closed again. I smiled as the couple’s polite conversation floated over us. I reached down and grasped his cock firmly and his eyes flitted behind me, and then closed. I didn’t take my gaze from his face, wanting to drink in every expression, learn them. What did he like? What turned him on? Obviously being handled in front of people didn’t faze him, and I enjoyed providing the show.
I brought his hand up to my mouth. It was fragrant from his cologne, and very warm. I placed his wrist near my lips, opened my mouth, and bit down on the side of it, letting my tongue travel on his skin. My lips moved over to his thumb and I enclosed it completely in my warm mouth, again allowing my tongue to give him a preview of what it could do. He swallowed heavily and his mouth opened slightly.
The elevator stopped and I checked—my floor at last. Still holding his hand, I led him out, away from the now silent couple.
He didn’t say a word, but I could hear his breath as we walked down the hall. I kept my pace purposefully slow and steady. My entire hand held only his thumb, and I squeezed it rhythmically as we walked. I felt my mouth water. I wanted to run my tongue along the tip of his cock, wanted to taste that sweet, clear fluid that had surely begun to seep from it. But I reminded myself to be patient.
We got to the room and I turned to face him. He had been patient, too. I let go of his thumb and reached up with both hands to his face, staring into his eyes. He leaned down and our mouths met, a hungry yet languid kiss, tongues invading and mingling, hands groping each other’s’ bodies; the audience had faded, all decorum was lost. His hands reached up and covered my breasts, and then one slid between my legs, rubbing what was already soaking wet and pulsing there. He found a nipple and gently squeezed and I moaned into his mouth, deepening our kiss. He broke from my lips and slid his mouth down my neck as I firmly stroked the front of his pants, my head tilted back.
”You smell delicious,” he said, panting in my ear. I pulled my hands up to stroke the length of his torso, and moved my lips close to his ear.
”Mm, thank you. It’s a perfume called ’La Petite Morte’—the Little Death. It’s supposed to smell like the scent that emanates from a woman right before she orgasms.” I pulled back from him and smiled. ”Shall we see if they got it right?”
I pulled the card key from my purse and rubbed it over the lock. The light turned green, and it released. I felt the unlocking of the door all the way through my body.
When we walked in, the lights were already on. My toys were on the table and in the center of the floor.
”Oh my,” I said, turning to him and smiling, ”someone’s been in my room.”
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