Chapter 3
The room is dark when I wake up, but a streetlight shining through a crack in the curtains illuminates Trent’s shadowy form next to me. He’s fast asleep with his head buried into the pillow. I should be nice and let him sleep so I get up as quietly as I can. I gingerly creep my way to the bathroom.
I’m almost there when my toe slams into my suitcase in the middle of the floor.
“Motherfucker!” I screech, and Trent jolts up.
“What happened?”
I didn’t hit my toe hard enough to do any actual damage, but I’m a weakling and can’t handle much pain. I limp back to the bed while Trent turns the lamp on.
“I stubbed my goddamn toe. I’ll be fine,” I gripe at him and flop on the bed.
He knows I always get pissed and cranky when I hurt myself, but the mood dissipates quickly.
He examines my toe. “Yeah, it looks fine. No broken skin.”
The sting is already easing, and he plants a kiss on my knee. I smile as he nibbles his way up my thigh, and my pussy hums to life once more. Waking him up might not have been so bad. We can go for round two and then order room service.
My stomach growls loud enough that we can both hear it.
Trent sits up and stretches. “Why don’t we take a quick shower and hit the restaurant downstairs for dinner?”
Wiggling my eyebrows suggestively at him, I try to convince him otherwise. “You sure you don’t want to order room service?”
“Hah, get your lazy butt out of bed. I’m taking my wife out for a nice dinner.”
He’s relaxed and smiling as he razzes me. Yeah, this trip is good for us. We needed to get away from the daily monotony at home.
“Fine, but I’m taking the first shower because I take longer to get ready!”
Skirting around my suitcase, I make it safely to the bathroom and speed through my shower. I avoid getting my hair too wet since it’s getting late and we need to hurry. I don’t want to get all dolled up just to get downstairs and be told they stopped serving dinner.
When I come back out to the bedroom, Trent puts my suitcase up on the luggage rack for me, and I blow him a kiss.
I bought a dress for this trip, and it’s sexier than I normally wear, but I wanted this weekend to be special.
I shimmy into the form-fitting red number, and it molds to my curves, accentuating my round breasts and ass.
A bit of see-through lace at the bottom creates the illusion that the dress is shorter than it actually is.
I exercise regularly and stay fit, but since I don’t flaunt it often, I want to make sure he doesn’t forget he has a desirable wife.
Hopefully it will put him in the mood to ravish me.
I’m smoothing it down my hips when he comes out of the bathroom, and he stops in the doorway. His mouth drops open, and a tingle of lust zips through me at his reaction.
When he doesn’t speak for a few moments, I don’t want to admit that I’m beginning to feel embarrassed. Is the dress too short, after all? I shift my weight to my other foot and fiddle with the lace on the dress. “Cat got your tongue?”
He laughs at my quip. “No, you’re gorgeous. I’m a lucky man.”
Oh, that’s more like it. Yeah, he likes it. I wiggle my ass at him with a sassy, “Yes, you are,” and finish getting ready.
Either the dress befuddles his brain or he wants to treat me right, because once we leave the room, he becomes a perfect gentleman, holding my hand and opening doors for me.
He’s cleaned up nicely too, in his dress slacks and button-down shirt, and several people give us double-takes as we cross the hotel lobby.
Peeking out of the corner of my eye, I notice the older men are the ones staring the longest, and the admiration in their gaze boosts my self-confidence.
By the time we get to the restaurant, I’m swaying my hips sensually and relishing all the attention.
Shit, I should dress like this more often.
I don’t want to sleep with any of these guys, but knowing so many people find me attractive gets me wet.
If this keeps up, my panties are going to be shot by the time we’re finished with dinner.
I didn’t know I was going to get turned on by so much attention.
Thank God I wore panties, otherwise my thighs would be a slick mess.
They are still serving dinner and as we wait to be seated, I scan the visible tables in the dining room.
A guy facing me at one of the far tables makes me glance back at him.
My brain freezes…wait, is that Kurt Brock?
I shake my head. No, I’m being silly. That can’t be Kurt.
Narrowing my eyes, I study him closer. The guy is obviously rich.
He’s wearing a finely cut gray suit with a white shirt.
His perfectly tousled blonde hair looks as if he recently walked off a movie set.
But when he grins at his approaching server, I know without a doubt it’s him.
I would recognize that knowing smile from anywhere since it still occasionally haunts my dreams — or rather, my nightmares.
Adrenaline shoots through my veins, and my vision sharpens while I go on high alert. When Kurt scans the room in our direction, I quickly swivel to face Trent. I’m not sure if Kurt would remember me, but I’m not taking any chances.
I lean into Trent, give him a soft kiss, and use the sultry tone of voice I know he loves. “Honey, can we sit in the bar instead? I know you wanted to eat in the restaurant, but don’t you think the men in the bar would appreciate this dress and think you’re lucky?”
Trent had mentioned in the past that he likes other guys finding me hot because it strokes his ego to know I chose him. I’m banking on him wanting to see men drool over me.
He grins. “Oh, yeah…I’ve noticed people checking you out. Let’s go give them some excitement.”
Halle-fucking-lujah. I hook my arm with his as he leads me to the bar. It’s not too busy, and we grab empty bar stools as the bartender comes over.
“What can I get you two?”
I open my mouth to order some wine, but Trent speaks first. “Do you serve food in the bar?”
“Sure do!” The bartender gives us menus and asks, “Do you want me to get you a drink while you decide?”
This time, I get my order in before Trent. “May I get a glass of sparkling rosé?”
Trent gives me the side eye while requesting a scotch and soda, and I can’t decipher the look.
When the bartender leaves, Trent skims his hand up my thigh, leans over, and whispers in my ear, “You planning on getting tipsy and flirty?”
When he gently squeezes my thigh, a flush runs through me. Does he want me to get flirty?
I tease him a little, and give him my most seductive smile. “That depends. Who do you want me to flirt with?”
Trent sits up straighter and his, “Hmm,” as he scans down the bar makes my pussy throb. Wait, does he think I was serious?
I playfully swat his arm. “Hey, look at me!”
“Yes?” His grin leads me to assume he really was joking.
I blow him a kiss. “Honey, I’ve only got eyes for you. You know that.”
He practically twinkles, and I can tell he likes my response. “Damn straight, because I’m one sexy mofo.”
I laugh as the bartender brings us our drinks. After he sets them down in front of us and leaves, I mimic Trent and slide my hand up his thigh, but this time moving up even higher until his quickly stiffening cock surges against me.
Giving his hardness a squeeze, I purr, “Now don’t get all cocky on me.”
The double entendre wasn’t missed. “But I thought you liked it when I got cocky?”
I give his cock a firm tug before letting go. “Yeah, well…maybe.”
Even in the dim lighting of the bar, I can see the blush creep up his face. I take a sip of my wine, pleased with myself. By the time I’m done with him, he’s going to be begging to fuck me when we get back to the room.
The bartender comes by and we order fish and chips, and continue to joke around while we wait.
I’m already on my second glass of wine when the food arrives.
We dig in, and I let one of my high heels fall off so I can play footsie with Trent.
When I wiggle my toes up the cuff of his pants, he grins at me.
“Behave, Becky.”
I take another sip and giggle. “Oh yeah, or what?”
He munches a piece of fish before replying. “Or else I’ll really get you to use that sexual energy on someone else and see if you can get them hot and bothered.”
I’m tipsy enough to find the idea hilarious. Trent is such a big talker. No way is he going to have me flirt with someone, but I try to push his buttons anyway. “Oh yeah, my stud? Who would you choose?”
He tips his head towards the other end of the bar with no hesitation, as if he already had the person chosen. “See that guy in the leather jacket? Him.”
I scan down the bar, and a thrill runs through me when my gaze locks onto the guy from the elevator. Ohhh, fuck. How did I not see him down there? I guess I really was only paying attention to Trent tonight.
The dude’s eyes bore into mine, and I imagine I can see the steely blue even from this distance. He still looks like the bad boy of my youthful fantasies, and my pussy clenches in agreement. Oh yeah, we would both enjoy flirting with him.
The guy bobs his glass towards me, acknowledging that I noticed him.
He’s got a hungry look that makes me think he’d ravish me and give it to me as rough as I want.
God, one night with him would be fucking incredible.
He drains his drink, sets it on the bar, and slides off of his stool.
Both Trent and I watch him head towards the exit, but before he leaves, he peers over at me and smiles suggestively.
The answering buzz from my pussy makes my mouth crack open as the nerve endings along my exposed skin hum. Holy fuck, if that’s what he can do to me with a smile, what would he do to me if he touched me? I might combust.
I shoot a guilty look towards Trent, but the glazed passion in his eyes says he liked the subtle flirting.
Trent wipes his mouth with his napkin and puts it on his dirty plate. His voice is husky with need. “Becky, let’s get out of here.”
Ohhh, hell yes. I toss my napkin on the bar as well and slip my shoe back on while Trent makes sure the charges go to our room.