Chapter 11 Alexander #2
“Okay.” Christopher steps inside as I quickly look down the hallway, making sure no one has seen him enter, and close the door behind me.
“Fuck me!” His voice echoes around the suite.
Wow. He doesn’t beat around the bush.
I turn around to see Christopher taking in the vastness of the room.
“A girl likes to be wined and dined a bit before dropping her panties for a man,” I laugh, trying to hide the grumbling in my stomach.
Christopher turns back to face me. His hazel eyes pierce into my soul.
“Oh. Erm. I mean… Fuck me, this suite. It’s massive.” He slides his hands into his pockets.
The stuttering of his speech instantly settles my stomach.
He’s nervous too.
“Oh yeah, right. Want a tour?” I ask.
“Sure, if you want.” He shrugs his shoulders.
The tension feels palpable as I walk through the lounge area, pointing out all the features. I get the sense that Christopher’s trying to play it cool. But maybe this is what he’s actually like when he’s on his own.
Gone is the witty, sarcastic Christopher I’ve encountered so far. This is a far more reserved and cooler version.
I walk to the window, pulling the curtains open to reveal the main road below.
The view is slightly blurry from the rain droplets against the window, but the faint sound of my fans still echoes below, still there come rain or shine.
The night lights of the skyscrapers across London shine in the midnight sky as Christopher edges closer to me.
“If you look over there, you can just about make out the BT Tower.” I point to the left, recalling the sights on the skyline one of the hotel staff showed me.
He steps up, pressing himself gently into me, and I feel the warmth of his body against mine and his legs straddled to either side. As he leans over my shoulder, I feel his semi-erect penis through his jeans, rubbing up against my left ass cheek.
“Where did you say?” His minty-fresh breath passes by my left ear.
The smell of the sandalwood from his cologne fills my nostrils as I reach for his hand, pulling it up to the window to point toward the tower. My hand fits perfectly on top of his.
“Right there.” I push my ass back ever so gently into him, and I feel his cock grow harder with every passing moment.
He leans in even closer, his breath shallower. His mouth is mere millimeters from my left earlobe.
“So, you’re saying you’d be the bottom in these interactions?”
My body stiffens and he pulls back. I read the subtext of what he’s insinuating, but I’m thrown by the comment.
It’s been a moment since I’ve last been intimate with a man and had a conversation about what role I take sexually. But interactions? That’s a funny word to use, and then it dawns on me—that’s Paul’s code word.
I make my way back to the couch, noticing the sheepish look on Christopher’s face as I motion him to follow.
I pick up the remote to mute the TV. He keeps a slight distance as we sit down, a pillow separating the two of us.
I yearn for his body to be touching mine again, but we should talk about what he’s just signed.
“Thank you for signing the document, I appreciate it.” I rest my hand on the pillow as I wait for his gaze to meet mine.
I want to address our sexual preferences, but I can feel my avoidance kicking in, and this low-hanging fruit feels easier to navigate.
“Well, just to be clear, my lips are sealed, but my facial expressions are under no such obligation.” He arches his eyebrows when he finally meets my gaze. “And actually, come to think of it, there are a couple of things I need answering…”
His right leg comes up under his left as he adjusts himself on the couch to directly face me. He sounds like a detective about to launch an interrogation, sending my heart rate soaring for all the wrong reasons.
“Shoot,” I say, fighting back the lump in my throat.
He’s already in the room. He’s already signed the contract.
“The name I need to save you in my phone under. What should I use? Houdini? Casper? Big Reveal?” His gaze drifts to my crotch as a smirk rises on his face.
“Alex is fine.” I shake my head at the question’s randomness.
“I can’t save your actual name in my phone, according to the MNDA I just signed.”
Ah, right.
I turn my head away, toward the TV. Avril Lavigne’s Sk8er Boi video is playing out. A smile forms on my face as I remember how I used to think she was singing the song about me.
“Skater Boy,” I say, turning back to Christopher.
“Okay…?” A look of bewilderment appears on his face as he pulls his phone and room key out of his pocket. He places the room key next to the remote, and holds the phone in his hand. There’s an awkward silence, as if he’s waiting for me to explain why.
“I used to use Avril Lavigne as my pseudonym when checking into hotels because I loved that song,” I say, nodding to the TV. “Then someone worked it out. I never thought someone would think I’d actually use another artist’s name. Now I’m stuck with whatever name Paul or Rob sign me in under.”
“Ah okay.” He nods his head as he types the name into his phone, before returning it to his pocket. “And if someone asks me how we know each other?”
“We can figure that out later,” I say, sliding across the couch.
I want—need—to be closer to him, but his hand stops me from getting too close.
“And am I the only one signing an MNDA about interactions?” The intensity of his stare makes me move back slightly.
“Yes,” I say, catching the sharpness in my voice.
The Rita issue has been following me all day. Connie says she’s handling it, but why does everyone think I’m such a love rat?
“Yes, you are the only one,” I say softly, my hand resting on the pillow.
He slips his hand over mine and cups the bottom of my chin with the other. “And are you saying that you want me to be the man in this relationship?”
I want him to be whatever he wants to be.
I want him to throw me all around this room and dominate me.
I want him to own me.
But I don’t want to scare him off. So instead, I lean in and kiss him.
His lips are soft, and with each subsequent kiss I lean in more. His tongue parts my lips and slides into my mouth, intertwining with mine.
He leans back into the couch, and I stretch my left leg over him. Straddling him. Kissing him more passionately, more deeply, with every breath.
I lose myself in the throes of passion as he flips me onto my back, pushes me down onto the couch and gets on top of me. He takes control, pinning my hands against the arm of the couch as his mouth goes to work on my neck. Biting it slightly. I wriggle away.
“Too much?” His hazel eyes hover just above mine.
I want him to eat me whole, but I also need to ensure that there are no visible marks that show.
“No…just…” I stutter, trying to catch a breath. “Just not where they can see.”
He lifts himself up above me, his hands to either side of my shoulders, like he’s doing push-ups over me. The light from the TV captures his biceps as he holds his position. Observing me as I wait impatiently for his next move.
“What?” I ask, as the right side of his mouth rises.
“There you are,” he says. “The real you…”
His eyes widen and, in that moment, I feel so vulnerable.
So exposed.
He lowers himself back down, but this time, instead of finding my lips, he kisses my forehead, my nose, the scar on my left jaw from the car crash.
All the things about myself that I’m insecure about.
It’s like he knows. Each kiss is more slow, more meaningful.
The pause between each kiss is slightly longer than before.
When he finally finds his way back to my mouth, I’m ready.
Waiting. I lean ever so slightly forward, lifting my head off the couch to meet his lips, and as I do, our mouths intersect, our tongues collide.
I jolt upright, bumping my head into Christopher’s as the sound of the fire alarm starts ringing through the suite.
“Sorry,” I say, as he rubs his forehead.
“It’s okay.” He moves away to sit upright.
“It’s probably just a false alarm.” I shrug my shoulders.
“Yeah, someone probably just leaned on the fire exit and set it off.” He turns back toward me as I grab his polo shirt to pull him back in.
My mouth is ready for another taste of him. The alarm continues, but the wailing sound falls into the background as I lose myself in Christopher once more.
I barely hear the door open.
“Boss. Boss, we need to leave!” Rob’s voice is elevated.
Christopher quickly pulls back, letting me swing my legs around and stand.
“What do you mean, leave?” I ask as Rob comes toward me. His eyes scan the room as I adjust myself, pulling my vest down and sliding my hand down my shorts to rearrange my raging hard-on.
“We can’t have you go outside like that,” Rob says, heading through to the bedroom and into the walk-in closet. He returns with a hoodie and a pair of vans. “Put them on.”
“What do you… Erm?” Christopher looks at me, then to Rob.
“It’s best if you make your own way out, sir, and follow the hotel’s instructions.” Rob folds his arms while I push my feet into the vans and slide the hoodie over my head.
Christopher looks at me, his forehead crinkled.
“You better go… I’ll message you once whatever this is is dealt with.”
Christopher makes his way to the door, looking back over his shoulder while I tie the laces of my shoes, and exits.
Damn that fire alarm.
There’d better be a good reason for it.