CHAPTER TWELVE #3
“A little business, and a little pleasure,” I replied conversationally. “Berlin’s a beautiful city.”
“It is! Your first time?”
“For me, yeah, but my friend knows the city well,”
“I hope you both have a pleasant stay.” Then he turned back to the reception clerk who was waiting with his keycard.
“Mr. Jorgen, this was left for your earlier,” Clara said as she handed him the keycard and a padded brown envelope.
Jorgen grinned widely, took the package and pressed it under his armpit while he grabbed his wheeled case and took off at a swift pace toward the elevator.
Jack was leaning against the counter, a contented smile on his face as he held our two keycards. I stepped closer and he leaned in. Using a deep movie trailer voice, he said,
“One room! One bed! Two hot, single men! Sparks fly in Room 265…Coming soon…you will be!” He wagged his brows and I laughed out loud.
Yeah, I’d be very happy to be coming soon!
I plucked a keycard from his fingers and pushed it into my back pocket and then taking our luggage we headed for the elevators.
The doors had just closed on a packed car, with Hugh Jorgen the last to squeeze in.
The other lift was also in use so we waited for the next one.
“Did you hear that dude’s full name?” I asked as we watched the numbers climb, telling us which floor the car was on. I turned to Jack. “Hugh…Jorgen. Hugh Jorgen, get it?”
“No! No way! Oh, my fucking god, that’s hilarious!” Jack was doubled over with laughter. “The name can’t be real. No parent could be so cruel, c’mon,” he said as he fought to catch a breath.
“I’m sure the surname’s pronounced with a yer instead of a jor…but still, bet the poor bastard got bullied something awful at school,” I said.
“Yeah, you’re right, we shouldn’t laugh.
” But one look at me and he was off again.
What is it with the British and their dirty sense of humour?
Finally, the elevator was back on the ground floor and the doors slid open.
Anticipation thrummed through me as we stepped in with our luggage and Jack eased his keycard into the slot, keyed in our floor number and the elevator doors closed.
We rode up to the fourth floor and as the doors slid open the scent of lavender air freshener wafted in.
Housekeeping was already working on vacated rooms. We strode past a trolley laden with clean sheets, towels, replacement toiletries, and garbage bags.
I used my keycard to open the door to our executive suite, room 265.
“This is nice!” I said on entering and pulling my luggage inside.
Our room was large, square, clean, and elegant, with an arched window overlooking the public square of Pariser Platz.
The décor was in classic gold and beige tones against dark timber furniture.
The bed had two individual crisp white duvets laid out in the continental style.
I hadn’t shared a bed in what felt like a long time.
When Erik was in town and came home, he’d arrive late and he slept in a guest room.
I’d believed it was a courtesy as we were on different schedules and we both needed our sleep, but thinking about it now, the signs our relationship was on the rocks were there for a while, but I’d subliminally chosen to live in denial.
Jack let go of his suitcase and then rushed to the bed and flopped face down. I let out a laugh, he was such a goofball.
“Ooooh yeah, yeah, this is a good and hard!” he said with a muffled moan. He rolled over and began to wiggle and bounce. “It’s quite too, always a bonus, don’t you think?”
“Why do you British love innuendo so much?” I commented.
“Not sure. But if you want another, I’ll give you one!”
I burst out laughing as I met Jack’s sparkling eyes. Desire throbbed low in my belly again, and finally we were alone. “Sounds like you have plans!” I said as I abandoned my case and crawled onto the bed. It was a good, firm mattress.
“I do! I hate creaky beds,” Jack revealed, “The only noises I want to hear are you begging me, deeper, harder, yeah baby, that’s the spot!
” Heat flooded through my body and my pulse quickened.
Jack was on his side, elbow cocked, his head resting on his hand.
He gazed at me with lust and humour in those dark eyes.
His tongue darted out to lick his plump lower lip.
“Hello handsome,” he said, a playful lilt in his voice.
I liked the affectionate name he’d chosen for me.
“I’m so happy you’re here with me, in the flesh,” he said, before moving in and placing a soft kiss on my lips.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, about how hot and bothered you got on our video call.
I loved making you all…hot and bothered. ”
Jack’s words felt like kisses moving down my spine. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Jack either.
“Is that right?” I cooed as I gazed into his eyes.
I was ready to show him how hot and bothered we could get!
I reached out, gripping the nape of his neck, and pulled him in to crush our mouths together.
As soon as we touched it was game on. Jack gasped in surprise at my bold move, and then moaned appreciatively, our tongues duelling as again, as we ate at one another like starving men, just like in Paris.
This time I was sober and officially single.
Neither of us had shaved and so our stubble grated against the sensitive skin of our lips, and the sighs it pulled from Jack brought out a need and possessiveness I hadn’t experienced before.
I dragged Jack on top of me, desperate to feel the weight of him.
I opened my thighs and let him ease between them.
He fit perfectly, the bulge of his hard-on sitting neatly beside mine.
My hips bucked up involuntarily, crushing our groins together.
“GOD!” Jack wriggled, his eyes blazing with a challenge as he rubbed his dick against mine. “You’ve trapped me right where I want to be!” His movements were making me crazy. I gripped his gorgeous firm ass to still him.
“Ditto,” I gasped. “If we start this now, we’re not leaving this bed for the next three days.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing, babe!” he countered, and then he began kissing a slow flaming trail from the nape of my neck to my collar bone.