Chapter 11
It was five past nine when I returned to my room for a quick refresh before my shift. I devoured a protein bar, washed it down with a glass of water, and then brushed my teeth. I hopped back in the elevator and walked across the lobby to my post at reception with just two minutes to spare.
“Hi, Marj, how are you?”
“Hey. I’m great now that you’re here. These hunks have kept me busy all day.” We laughed together, and we hugged before she grabbed her bag and said goodbye.
I scanned the lobby for Lolita but couldn’t find her. A steady stream of people poured out of the exit door in the conference hall, and even though the crowd was noisy, and the abundant voices echoed off the marble expanse, it wasn’t long before I heard Lolita. She was still in the hall somewhere. She’d be on her way out soon.
It was nearly ten o’clock before she emerged, and I just about died when I saw who she’d hooked her arm into. Frankie’s face showed how happy he was to have one of the most gorgeous women on the Gold Coast hanging off him.
My breath caught as I feared she would walk him over to me. They shared a joke that had both of them laughing, and I was able to breathe again when they veered away from me and headed toward the elevator.
As they waited for the elevator, my mind flipped over and over with questions about what Lolita was doing. When the doors pinged open, Lolly gave Frankie a smack on his bottom, and he stepped into the elevator. She blew him a kiss as the doors closed, then she turned to me and bounded across the foyer.
“Okay, you’re all set.” She flicked her high ponytail over her shoulder and grinned at me.
“Set for what?”
“Frankie knows you’re coming up to him. He wants to give you your own private tasting.”
I picked my jaw up off the counter and blinked. “Have you lost your mind?”
“What?”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I had a sexy girlfriend who loves beer, but she missed the expo because she was working. He’s expecting you in room thirty-five. Off you go.”
I shook my head. “This’s crazy.”
“No, it’s not. It’s called Girlfriend Code. I’m covering for you while you saddle up with Beer Boy.”
“I don’t?—”
“I do. What’s your problem? You were dribbling all over him an hour ago.”
“Pfft. Was not!”
“Were too, and besides, if you don’t do this, you’ll fail your challenge.” She aimed her long fingernail toward me.
She did have a point there.
Her eyes twinkled, and I wanted to slap the dazzle out of them. “What if someone wants to check in?”
“Is anyone due to check in?”
My shoulders slumped. “No.”
“Well, that solves that. What other hurdles have you got?”
I cocked my head, knowing that not only would she have all the answers, but I was destined to hear horsey puns for weeks.
She came around the counter and clutched my shoulders. “We are doing this. Take your phone, and if anything happens while you’re horsing around with Beer Boy, I’ll call you.”
I chewed on my bottom lip in response.
“Go on. Frankie’s ready to give Memphis a private tasting. And not just of his beer.” She flashed a cheeky smile.
I burst out laughing. “You’re crazy.”
“Ha, I’m crazy? Look at you, sister.”
I pulled a sad face.
“Oh, stop it. You love it.”
With her hands on my shoulders, I allowed her to direct me around the reception counter. “Go ride that stud.”
I rolled my eyes, and her giggles echoed about the lobby as I walked toward the elevator.
I pressed the button, and as I waited for the elevator, I turned to her. She stood behind the reception desk with a look on her face that portrayed pure professionalism. That woman had missed her calling; she should’ve been an actress.
The doors pinged open.
“Giddy-up,” Lolly yelled across to me.
Laughing, I stepped into the elevator.
The angel and devil in my brain gave me a hard time from the second I entered my room.
I shouldn’t have left reception.
But I only have eight more weeks on my challenge.
What if Lolly gets caught down there?
Frankie had my insides purring while he was fully dressed. Imagine him naked.
That last thought directed my focus to the man waiting for me. My disguise would need to be thorough tonight as I’d spent some time chatting with Frankie over the last two days. I decided on green contact lenses to match his gorgeous eyes, and my fiery red wig.
Happy with my makeup, I moved to my closet. My decision came quickly. I chose my Bohemian skirt that fell to the floor and matched it with my white linen top with the elastic neckline that I pulled down over my shoulders. The top required a strapless bra, but I hated those things, so I went without instead. To add to the Bohemian style, I draped chunky wooden beads around my neck and put on dangly orange earrings.
For my shoes, I chose my caramel-colored ankle boots. When I looked in the mirror, I decided my look was perfect for my down-to-earth beer boy.
I dabbed on a touch of pink lippy, grabbed my caramel tote, checked that I had my essentials, and headed out the door.
I wasn’t nervous. In fact, all the worry I’d experienced earlier had evaporated, and now I was keen for whatever my green-eyed hunk had to offer.
As I made my way up to the sixth floor, I tugged my sleeves lower down my arms, showing off more shoulder. It was weird knowing that Frankie was waiting for me. After his chat with Lolita, I just hoped he wasn’t disappointed in Memphis.
I knocked on his door, and after a couple of heartbeats, it was opened by my stunning beer brewer. In the space of thirty minutes since I’d seen him, he’d become a hell of a lot hotter. His beard was now neatly trimmed, showing off a squared-out chin, and his damp hair hung in a messy, wavy style that suited him perfectly.
“Hi, you must be Memphis. I’m Frankie.” He offered his hand, and from the second our fingers touched, I was grateful to Lolly for allowing this to happen.
“I am. Lolita told me all about your wonderful beer.”
He stepped aside, and as I walked past him into his room, I inhaled lovely scents of soap and cologne. Frankie had put music on, and the catchy beat was exactly what I imagined he’d listen to. As the door clicked closed, I hung my bag over the back of a dining chair and turned to him.
Frankie wore a plain gray T-shirt, and a black leather strap that hung around his neck disappeared down his collar. Before the night was out, I was determined to find out what dangled on the end of that necklace. His jeans were stylish, devoid of any holes or tears, and he wore no shoes. Frankie was a man who didn’t need fancy clothing to make him a man.
“So,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “You had to work tonight. What do you do?”
“Oh, um.” Shit, I should’ve thought of that. “I’m a croupier at the casino.” This lie had worked for me before—hopefully, it would work this time.
“Sounds interesting. Well, take a seat, and I’ll get this tasting going.”
I chewed on my lip before I said something silly, like let me taste you first.
He went to the kitchen and pulled a couple of bottles from the fridge, then carried them and two glasses to the table.
“What beer do you normally drink?”
Oh, faaarrrk. Why didn’t I think this through?“Well, I’m embarrassed to say I don’t really have a favorite.”
“Then I’m about to introduce you to one.”
His eyes were incredible. I’d never seen anything like them. I could stare into his pools for hours.
With the bottles on the table, he pulled out a chair, sat at my side, and indicated to an amber-colored glass bottle. “This’s Bucking Bronco.”
Damn.That was the one I had downstairs that tasted horrible.
He removed the bottle top, poured a good quantity into a glass tumbler, and handed it to me.
Oh crap! His tasting process might reveal the real me. I needed to switch this up before he figured out who I was. While his eyes were on me, I sipped the beer, but despite all my efforts, I was unable to stop screwing up my face at the bitter taste.
My thoughts went to Hunter and the chocolate guessing game we’d played.
“How about we play a game?” I blurted.
Frankie raised his eyebrows. “What type of game?”
I put my elbows on the table and laced my fingers together, stalling for an answer. “All your beers are named after horsey things, right?”
“Correct.”
“Okay, so how about I try to guess the names of your beers? If I’m right, you take off a piece of clothing. If I’m wrong, I take something off.”
Frankie’s grin was stunning as he leaned back in his chair and ran his gaze from my eyes to my lips. “But I’m only wearing two pieces of clothing.”
Two? Hmmm, yummy. “Then it could be a very short game.”
He laughed and clapped his hands. “You, Memphis, are a very fascinating woman.”
A blaze of heat coursed through my body, and I smiled as I made a show of examining him. “So, is that a yes to the game?”
“Sure. Sounds like fun.”
“Okay, you already told me this one was Bucking Bronco. I bet you’ve named one Back in the Saddle.”
His face lit up. “No, sorry.”
“You don’t look sorry.”
“Actually, you’re correct. I’m not sorry at all.”
Giggling, I removed my beaded necklace.
“Hey, that’s cheating. We could be here all night.”
I cocked my head at him. “Are you complaining?”
“No, I’m not complaining.” He chuckled. “So, what’s your next guess?”
“Let me see. How about Wild Ride?”
“Geez, that’s a good one. But no, we don’t have that name either.”
I did an exaggerated sad face, although I wasn’t unhappy at all. I bent down and peeled off my boots.
“You’re killing me, Memphis.”
I tugged my lip into my mouth as I smiled. Frankie was fun, and if I’d had the time, I’d have been happy to have him gaze at me all night long. “My next guess is Sexy Stallion.”
“Nope.”
“No! Are you sure?” I exaggerated a frown, highlighting my surprise.
“I’m sure.”
I took off my socks. “Well, whoever names your beers needs to be shot.”
“That’d be me.”
I laughed. “Oh, dear. Now that I know it’s you, I’m making my next guess Frisky Filly.”
It was his turn to look shocked. “I can’t believe you guessed that one.”
“Aha! Shirt off.”
He whipped his shirt off, and oh my god, Frankie had just got a whole lot hotter. He may not be as buff as Corben or as sculpted as Billy, but Frankie was all man and so perfect in many ways. A silver cross hanging on the leather strap around his neck fell between his nipples. Up the side of his torso was a tattoo written in another language.
I pointed at it. “What does that say?”
He ran his hand over it, almost as if he were caressing his skin, but his eyes remained on me. “I will not allow my wounds to transform me into someone I’m not.”
The sadness in his eyes had me falling in love. I stood, lifted my shirt over my head, pulled my skirt to my ankles, and straddled his lap. Our lips came together in a heated, fiery kiss that perfectly matched the sexual tension that had been sizzling through me since I first laid eyes on him.
I pressed my tongue into his mouth, demanding to explore more. His warm hands glided up and down my back, and I drove my fingers through his long hair. Our tongues dueled, our breaths mingled and united, and our moans were deep and primal.
This mild, unassuming man with fabulous green eyes and a passion for beer was an exceptional kisser. It wasn’t just his tongue, or his lips, or the smell of him, or his hands on my bare back. My senses were being seduced by everything about him all at once.
As I glided my hips back and forth on his lap, his cock rose to attention, giving me a whole lot more to enjoy. His hands found my breasts, squeezing and fondling them as if they were delicate treasures. My greedy clit wanted more, and as I rolled my hips back and forth, each movement drove delicious shudders through me.
Frankie wrapped his arms around me and lifted me up with him. I curled my legs around his hips, and we continued our kiss as he strode to the bed. He placed me down, and the intensity in his green irises captured me even more.
His fingers trembled as he fumbled with his jean’s button and zipper. As his chest rose and fell, highlighting his excitement, a delicious tremor rumbled through me.
Frankie stood naked before me at the end of the bed. His erection was thick and long and aiming toward his sexy navel. I glided my hands down my legs and parted my knees, silently telling him I wanted all there was of his mighty cock.
Frankie crossed the distance between us, put his fingers into my panties, and dragged them down my legs. He stepped back as if examining a masterpiece.
A fine sheen of sweat glistened across his torso, showing off his fascinating tattoo. His eyes devoured me with their intensity, his green irises grew darker. When I parted my legs farther, his tongue wet his lips, confirming he was enjoying my show.
My insides clenched, begging for that cock to plunge into me. I raised my hips off the bed and glided my finger over my clit. The very first touch had skyrockets shooting me to the stars. Frankie had my body on fire, and he’d barely touched me yet.
A pearl of semen glistened like a dazzling diamond at the head of his crown. My breath caught, and my insides fluttered, adding depth to my growing orgasm. “Do you have a condom?”
His eyes snapped to focus, and before he even spoke, I knew he didn’t.
“Grab my bag.” I pointed at my tote hanging over the chair.
As he strode away, I admired the bulge and flex of the lovely firm muscles of his ass. When he turned, his cock pointed right at me, erect and proud. He handed my bag over, and I plucked a condom from the side zipper and handed it to him. He tore it open and glided the rubber over his erection.
I wriggled up the bed, giving him room to join me. Veins coursed along his biceps as he crawled my way and paused above me. I wrapped my legs around him, positioning the swollen head of his cock at my opening.
As he pushed his hips forward and drove his cock into me, his eyes were slightly glazed, as if lost to another world. I clawed his back as he filled me with his thick, hot hard-on. As Frankie thrust in and out, I curled my ass up off the bed in time with his movements.
We worked as one, drawing out each other’s pleasure in the most primal way possible.
His thrusts grew faster, deeper. I pulled on my knees, raising my bottom higher and allowing him to plunge deeper still. His mouth was ajar, drawing rapid breaths. His eyes rolled, no longer seeing. And his thrusts were a perfect combination of speed and depth.
The sensations running through me, from deep inside my pussy to every inch of my body, were amazing. My orgasm clawed to fever pitch, begging to explode, and when Frankie stopped, clenched his jaw, and released a low growl that tumbled from deep in his throat, I braced for the finale.
With a gasp, Frankie’s eyes shot open, and his hips plunged and withdrew as his cock drove into me over and over. My orgasm released, scattering thousands of delicious pulses through my body, and drawing out a long, exquisite climax. Together, we rode a beautiful, wild, primal moment that had both of us gasping for air.
It was an eternity before Frankie’s gorgeous green eyes found mine again, and when they did, I was once again lost in their purity. He smiled as he slumped to my side, and I rolled toward him.
He curled a lock of my hair behind my ear. It was such a sweet gesture that I was nearly brought to tears. “Well, that was a lovely surprise.” His voice was a macho baritone.
“I agree.”
“Can you thank your friend for me? What was her name?”
For some reason, the fact that he didn’t remember Lolita’s name pleased me. She was a very memorable woman. “Lolita.”
He nodded. “That’s right.” When he ran his hand through his hair, my eyes swooped to his tattoo.
“Did someone break your heart?” I snapped my hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry—you don’t need to answer that. It’s none of my business.”
“It’s okay.” He placed his hand on my cheek and sighed. He lowered his eyes as if searching deep into his soul for the best way to answer. I sensed that whatever he was about to tell me had hurt him very, very much, and I put my therapy hat on, hoping I reacted appropriately to his response. When his sad eyes met mine, my heart squeezed.
“My sister committed suicide a couple of years ago after a nasty breakup with her boyfriend.”
“Oh God, Frankie. I’m so sorry.”
He shrugged. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. I have this tattoo so people I’m close to ask me about it. The wounds after she left cut very deep. I like talking about it. These things should be talked about, not hidden beneath a fa?ade.”
I rolled onto his shoulder and draped my arm over this complete stranger. His story resonated so deeply with me.
For what seemed like an eternity, we remained in each other’s arms, and it was only when I thought of Lolita doing my job at reception, that I forced myself to get moving again. Pulling away from him tugged at my heart, but I was also eternally grateful to have spent time with this wonderful man. I crawled off the bed and turned to him. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Frankie from Wild Horses.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you too, Memphis, my amorous filly.”
I burst out laughing. His retort was the perfect way to end our encounter. I redressed and grabbed my bag. When I turned to him, he was still on the bed, on his side, with the sheet draped around his hips and the silver cross around his neck nestled next to his right nipple.
I blew him a kiss. “Good night.”
He tipped an imaginary hat. “Sweet dreams.”
Smiling, I strode to the door, walked out, and floated to the elevator as if I was walking on air. When I arrived at my room, I was shocked to note that I’d only been gone for forty minutes; it’d seemed like so much more. I undressed, removed my wig and makeup, and showered.
Then I dressed in my work clothes again. Before I went downstairs, I grabbed my diary, turned to the 27th of October, and wrote Frankie from Wild Horses Room 35 at the top.
As I mentally replayed how passionate he was about everything from his brewery business to his sister’s tragic story to our casual encounter, I wrote Unbridled Passion below his name.
I filled the pages with intimate details of our wonderful sex. I included the horrific story about his sister and the tattoo he’d chosen so he could share her tragedy with those closest to him.
My evening with Frankie proved yet again that a man who appeared to be Mr. Average could turn out to be anything but.
With that wonderful thought, I closed my diary, grabbed my bag, and headed downstairs.
The elevator opened at the lobby to absolute silence, and for a horrible second, I wondered if Lolita had abandoned her post. But as I cruised across the floor, she popped her head up from behind the computer.
“There you are.” She flicked her ponytail over her shoulder. “So . . . was he hung like a horse?”