5. No Pictures Please
Chapter 5
No Pictures Please
Cece
That conversation was a bit like being on a turbulent plane ride. I put myself out there. At first, I thought it was a lock. He’s into me. I’m into him. This was bound to happen. But then he shut down. The one-word answers, the hesitation. Up and down, tossing me all around. It was a little much for my sensitive self. I don’t always show it, but the hurt comes hard and fast when I think someone is rejecting me. I’m so used to being criticized or overlooked by my family, the confidence I put out there is a veneer. A fragile shield sitting on top of my insecurities, concealing them from the world, but easily shattered.
But then he said yes, and now here we are. Crushed together against the mirrored wall on the long trip to the twenty-first floor. There’s nothing wrong with the hotel elevator itself, but the sweaty nerd bodies all jammed in after a day spent in too many layers are nauseating. Someone coughs, and I wince, trying to hold my breath. I’m not interested in moving into my new place with a case of con crud.
Dev slides an arm around me, pulling me in tight to his side. He’s so much taller than me, I fit perfectly, and as I turn my head to face the painted on white skull on the front of his black tee, I catch a soothing whiff. Whatever he’s wearing is soft and fresh smelling. Like a cool breeze on a hot day. I bury my head in it, seeking the sanctuary of him. And it works. I’m surrounded by the scent of him now. It slides around me in a hug as comforting as the physical one.
I’m so wrapped up in it, I don’t notice the other people leaving the elevator in pairs and small clusters until it’s only us. I don’t realize it until he slides his hands up my back, up my neck in a shivery rush, stopping when he reaches my cheeks. His large hands swallow up my face as he tilts it up to meet his eyes. He bends down, lips hovering over mine. A mere fraction of an inch away.
My body is begging, pleading for him to close the distance. It’s been a long summer. I’ve been on my best behavior. I need this. So, I take it.
I push up on my tiptoes, traveling the last inch until my lips meet his in a gentle press. But that single taste isn’t enough for either of us. The world disappears with the intensity of our kiss. We’ve both been waiting for this all day. He pulls me in closer, crushing me in a bruising embrace. I return the gesture, nibbling on his lower lip. Grasping and seeking the heat of him. His lips are soft, but commanding. Demanding surrender. He tastes like the strawberries and cream from the funnel cake we shared.
His tongue invades my mouth, sliding along my lips, begging for entrance. I’m a panting, gasping mess already as his hand moves in a slow, tentative slide down my neck to my breast. He smooths over the slippery fabric, but it’s too thick. I can’t feel his touch, so I arch into him, looking for more.
A loud ding startles me out of the moment, and I hate it. Stupid elevator doing its stupid job. I’ve never wanted to get trapped in an elevator with someone until this moment.
Grabbing his hand, I hurry through the door before it’s fully open, glancing at the gold plaques on the wall to get my bearings. I’m in room 2308 or 2303. I’m not even sure anymore, but they’re both in the same direction, so I turn down the right hallway, fumbling in my bag for the key card. Flipping open the little grey envelope, I spot the number 2308 inked on it. That’s it. Perfect.
The long hall takes longer to traverse because we keep turning toward each other, stopping to steal a kiss before we move forward again.
My father would kill me if he saw me doing this. Bringing a strange man back to my hotel room. Letting him in without a background check or a pedigree he’d approve of. If only he knew what some of those blue-blooded boys he pushes me toward have done. To me, to other girls, the world in general.
I’m not stupid. I texted Tess my room number along with a pic of Dev. Just in case .
Before tapping my key card on the sensor, I turn to him. “I sent a picture of you to Tess, just so you know. She’s got my coordinates and your photo, so if you’re planning on murdering me in my own hotel room, you will be caught.”
The cloudy glaze in his eyes clears for a moment. “Good to know. I’ll refrain from breaking out my ax.”
I laugh, glancing at the threadbare canvas bag he’s got slung over his broad shoulder. The only piece of luggage he brought with him. I’m almost embarrassed to let him in. He’ll see the very large, and very expensive suitcases I brought for my few days away. But I’m heading directly to Lakeview after this, so I had to bring some extra clothes and supplies until the moving truck arrives next week. Beau had better help me move in. He’s been cagey about it. Too busy enjoying the remnants of summer to help his sister out.
“Last chance to back out.” I tell him, hand hovering a safe distance from the pad.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Romanoff. You’ve well and truly caught me in your snare. Should I be sending a picture of you to my friend? Just in case you’re the one who’s about to take my life. Was this all a smoke screen?”
“Don’t take my picture!” I blurt out as he holds up his phone. Words too sharp, slashing through the heat of the moment, threatening to leave it in shreds. Get it together, Cecelia. “Please. I don’t like my picture being taken.”
It’s not true.
I have no problem with friends taking my picture. I only object when the media shows up and immortalizes my worst moments in the press. But if he takes my picture now, he might post it on-line for the world’s consumption. And if he has comic book friends, someone could recognize me. It’s a tangled mess I don’t want to get involved in. This weekend is for me. The red wig and the tight costume are an excellent shield against the world and other than the desk agent, no one has recognized me yet. Even Dev after spending the day together.
But what happens when I remove the wig? Will my pale blonde hair give me away? Is this a bad idea? Or can I get away with leaving it on? A little superhero play in bed could be fun. But I can’t leave it on all night if he stays.
He lowers his phone to his side, slipping it into his pocket as I’m frozen in the act of pushing the door open. Then he lifts his other arm, reaching over me to grasp the top of the door frame. The move brings his body closer to mine, infringing on my space in a way that chases the intrusive thoughts out of my head.
One hand reaches up to cup my cheek, tilting my face up to his. “I won’t take your picture if you don’t want me to. I know what it’s like to have someone intrude on your privacy. But just so you know. I wouldn’t have posted it online or anything if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not even on social media.”
What? I can’t have heard that right. A college guy around my own age who is not on social media is an anomaly.
“Like any social media? At all?”
“Nope. I like my privacy.”
Well, that explains a lot, and it changes everything .
I reach up, his stubbly cheeks coarse under my palms, yanking him down to my level. He seems surprised for the barest of moments before he reacts, delving between my lips to meet my demands. His hands tighten on my cheeks as he pulls me in closer and walks me backward until I’m pressed up against the half-open door.
I stumble, laughing as it gives way under my weight, but he keeps me upright and moving. Like he’s been waiting all day for this, just like I have.
“What about dinner?” I ask.
His eyes go dark as he mumbles against my lips. “There’s only one thing I’m hungry for right now.”
I was already on the edge of reason, but that shoves me right over. A bolt of need shoots from my tingling lips to my core, and my pussy clenches.
“Fuck yes.”
The door clicks shut, forcing me into the present. I reach over to snap the latch and flip the dead bolt without breaking out of his hold.
His thumbs trace shivery circles on my cheeks and then his hands travel up further and further until they’re teasing the edges of the wig that’s been keeping me safe from recognition all day.
I nip at his lower lip when he stills the kiss, trying to urge him on, but he pulls away, breathing a little heavier than before.
“Let me help you get this thing off.” His voice is gruff.
The anxious thoughts try to kick in again, tensing my muscles and leaving me a little unsure. If I let him, he’ll see me for who I am. Not the confident kick-ass persona that’s easier to maintain when I’m wearing the costume. But it’s okay. There’s something about him that puts me at ease. A sense of protection and safety. Maybe it was the way he casually held my hand off and on all day, as if to make up for pulling away that one time. The way he let me sweep him up in the path of my hurricane first thing in the morning, or how enthusiastic he was about the women in comics panel. Whatever it is, there’s something easy about being around him, so I make a conscious effort to relax my shoulders and nod.
His strong fingers slip under the edge of the wig, easing it up, but I wince as the pins holding it in pace tug at my scalp.
“Sorry. I’ll just...”
I laugh. “It’s fine. Just had to pin it in place. How did you think I was keeping it solid all day? It’s not like we’re in a movie where everyone’s hair and makeup magically remain perfect in the middle of a literal war. These things take a little extra care.”
I reach up to help him, placing my smaller hands over his to find the combs and pins holding it in place. He’s surprisingly gentle for such a big guy, taking care to pull out the pins and untangle the strands so they don’t yank on my scalp.
When all the fastenings have been dropped to the floor, he guides the piece up and off, placing it on a side table carefully so it doesn’t get wrecked.
Of course, I’ve got a hairnet on to hide any and all strands of my own hair. He removes that next and my long pale locks are finally free, falling in a rumpled mess to my shoulders .
He pulls away from me, hands dropping to my shoulders and his eyes widen as if he’s consuming every inch of me. My face, my hair. He runs his hands through it, taking care to untangle the delicate strands. A shiver runs across my scalp at his gentle touch.
“Gorgeous.”
I drop my eyes. His gaze is a little too much. A little too heavy for this meeting of strangers.
“Don’t look away. I want to see those gorgeous blue eyes."
I flick them back up, and he spins me around. “Can I...”
His fingers are toying with the zipper on the back of my costume.
“Please.” I want to feel those hands on my skin so badly, but he takes his time, drawing the zipper down slowly inch by inch, planting soft kisses on my spine as he goes. Shivers run through me at the gentle brushes of his lips until I’m on the verge of combustion. He hits the bottom of the zipper and places one last kiss on my lower back when I don’t think I can take any more of the sweet torture.
Hands smooth up my back, parting the constricting fabric as they go. They slide under the suit at my shoulders, dragging it down my arms. The material slips off and the top half falls to my waist.
He rubs up and down the ribbed sides of the corset I’ve got on underneath, and I’m suddenly conscious of the way my hips spill out under the tight fit of the lingerie. It makes the costume look fantastic, but I definitely don’t look like a Victoria’s Secret model. They strut down runways confidently in corsets that have nothing to hold in.
I spin around before he can peel the rest of my costume off, needing a little balance between us. I find the hem of his black shirt and look back at him. “Can I?”
He smiles. “Yes, please. I want to feel your beautiful skin pressed up against mine. To see if it’s as soft as it looks.”
Sounds good to me. I drag the shirt up and over his broad torso, and the sight of his bare skin almost takes my breath away. He belongs in some stuffy old museum. An example of the perfection of the human body. An interesting variety of tattoos covers the packed mass of muscles on his chest. His abs are unreal. I have an urge to lick the dips and curves of his stomach. My hands fly down to the roll of my stomach pushed out from under the corset, but he stops me. His hands close over mine, pulling them away and drops to his knees, kissing my softness.
“You are so beautiful.”
His lips land on my right hip in a soft kiss, followed by a gentle nip. He takes his time, repeating the move across my lower stomach. I forget to be self conscious as my legs liquify while he takes his time peeling the tight suit off. I’m a little shaky on my feet by the time he finishes and rises to his feet.
“Good?” he asks, looking me in the eye.
I give him a dreamy smile and nod. “Incredible.”
I’m standing before him now in nothing but the corset and a black lace thong, but his pants are still in the way. When my fingers fumble with the buckle on his belt, he takes over, sliding it out of the loops faster than I could have managed in this state. I track the movement of those skilled hands as he unzips, slipping the black cargo pants off to reveal a pair of red boxer briefs barely containing the hard length underneath.
It’s way too tempting, so I reach out and stroke the length of it while it strains against the soft cotton fabric. It twitches under my touch, and he groans. His hands clasp my ass, jerking me up in his arms.
“Don’t pick me up. I’m too heavy.” The awareness comes back to me.
His chuckle is low and dark. “Are you kidding me? I’ve got equipment bags that weigh more than you. I’ve got this.”
It feels solid. No sign of him struggling, so I wrap my legs around his waist to give myself a more secure hold, but it’s hardly worth the effort. His long legs eat up the ground and he’s dropping me onto the massive bed before I’ve latched on properly. Now it’s his turn to do a little fumbling as he struggles to get his thick fingers to unlatch the hook closures of the corset.
I watch him sweat for a moment before I intervene. “My turn,” I tell him, making quick work of the fastening running the length of the garment. I have more than enough experience with these sorts of contraptions. A prime example of what women are expected to wear in comics and anything in the sci-fi or fantasy genre. My already fantastic tits look even better, though, so it can be fun sometimes. Although my superhero wears a costume that’s a little more on the comfortable side of the spectrum. A little less restrictive .
The fabric parts in the front, releasing my breasts from captivity. Dev’s eyes are locked on them as soon as they’re free and he reaches out to cup them. They’re a perfect fit for his hands. The rough pads of his thumbs create a delicious friction as he circles my nipples.
I’m arching into his touch, squeezing my thighs together, needing some sort of friction to ease the ache between my legs.
“I’ve been waiting to get my hands on these all day.”
The need in his voice is so palpable I can almost feel it on my skin.
“Me too.”
I’m not sure when my eyes fell shut, but it’s a pleasant shock when the wet heat of his tongue swipes over my center. Very few guys are willing to go there for a one-night stand. Hopefully, this one will last all weekend. I could get used to this treatment.
His skilled mouth licks and sucks and nibbles until I’m nothing but sensations. Heat, tingles, and aches on every part of my body. He teases and toys with my entrance, never quite dipping in. Need is rising in my lower core. An urgent ache building stronger with each touch.
He lifts my legs, dropping them on his shoulders in a slick move that has me feeling light as a feather while he continues to lavish my clit with love.
My legs are trembling, and I don’t think I can make it another second of the teasing. “Please. I need more.”
“What do you need?” His lips send sharp vibrations through me to the point I’m about to lose it when he backs away .
“You. Inside me.”
“Like this?”
A thick finger joins his mouth, circling my slit, slipping in a fraction of an inch, pulling away before I can clench down on it.
“Yes. Please,” I moan.
“Look at me when you ask.” It’s a command, not a request.
“What?”
“Look at me. I want to see those gorgeous eyes on me while you’re begging for it.”
Why does the demand make my pussy clench even harder? Why am I getting wetter at the commanding tone of his voice? I shouldn’t be. I don’t let guys boss me around, but instead of making me feel like an object, he’s making me feel worshiped. Like a goddess. I can’t help but obey him, dragging my unwilling head up a little, dragging my eyelids open to meet his gaze through a haze of lust.
“Please touch me, fuck me with your tongue, your finger... your cock.”
A slow smile stretches his lips that are wet with my juice, and he goes back to work, dipping his head down to devour me as his finger slams home. There’s no resistance. I’m so wet, so open, so ready for his invasion it only takes a few plunges before the need crests. My body flies over the edge, bucking off the bed, and a shock of sensation grips me as his tongue slows to a steady rhythm. A series of mini shocks ripple through my system. I clench down on him again and again in a never-ending orgasm .
When I’m finally spent, he pulls away from me, sliding his hands under my ass to scoop me up and drag me farther up the bed until my head hits a soft pile of pillows.
“Holy shit.” I think that’s what I say, but my brain is so scrambled it could have been anything.
His large body slides next to mine, his hardness pressed into my hip as he curls around me. I slip my hand down, rubbing his length until he’s the one arching into me.
I grip his cock through the soft cotton of his boxer briefs, and it jumps in my hand. Now he’s the one begging. The shift in power drags me out of my stupor and I lean over him to study his body while I stroke him.
“Too many clothes.” My hands slip under the tight waistband, tugging at it. Every inch reveals something new. There’s a black lightning bolt etched into his right hip, and a lily on his right one. He shivers under my touch as I trace the ink, curious about the meaning. Or lack of meaning. Some people get tattoos for the fun of it. But he’s got such an interesting array. Something about them seems purposeful. Like there’s a reason behind each one, but that’s not what this is about. This weekend is just for fun, so I leave it alone.
His dick springs up as a last tug brings his shorts down. I take a moment to admire the smooth skin marked with thick veins that are going to feel fantastic rubbing me from the inside. I lean down, needing a taste, licking him from base to tip in a slow swipe .
He squirms, and his eyes fly open, hand falling to the back of my head. He doesn’t put any pressure on it, just rests it there to keep me close.
I kiss and lick my way up the side until I get to the sensitive head, closing my mouth over him, sucking the salty drop of precum off the tip.
“Fuck. I need you.”
Triumph swells through me at how easy it was for me to bring him to the point of begging. At least for a moment. He growls, flipping me over in a quick move that has him hovering over me.
He ducks down to devour my mouth, crushing my tits to his chest, and he’s right there. A small thrust of his hips and I’ll get to feel him inside me. Finally.
Cold air ripples my overheated skin as he pulls back, sitting up and rubbing a hand over his head.
He’s sitting back on his heels in a position that would put most people at a disadvantage. Show off their flaws. But he has none. His body is unreal in its perfection.
“What’s wrong?”