Chapter 3
Charlotte
“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I just need to text my friend real quick,” I tell him, stopping in the middle of the hotel lobby.
“The girl from the cantina?” he asks.
“Yes,” I nod. “I’m sending her my location,” I say and look up at him.
This man is tall, very tall. I didn’t realize it until I was standing next to him. “Does that bother you?”
“Of course not. Starting the night with the blatant assumption that your date may or may not be an axe murderer isn’t exactly the best foreplay. I completely understand that from a woman’s point of view, you can never be too careful these days.”
“No, you can’t,” I answer as I click one last button and shove my phone into my purse. “Alright. What do we do first?” I ask.
“Well. I believe we start by getting a room,” he nods towards the desk.
“Yes. Yes, that would make sense.”
“Unless you want to just use the lobby couches,” he says.
Even though I know he’s teasing, my cheeks ignite in a blush. Damn my Swedish bloodline.
“I’m kidding,” he says.
“Right. I knew that.”
It suddenly occurs to me how crazy this is.
I’m getting a hotel room with a man I just met. It’s not a cheap motel either; this is a high-rise hotel downtown. There’s a full bar and a steak restaurant on the main floor and a fountain in the middle of the lobby, for Pete’s sake.
Gavin doesn’t seem to care.
I watch him hand the receptionist his card, sign with his finger, and take the room keys, like he does this all the time.
He has a very relaxed attitude about all this, and for a second, I wonder if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
Before I can question it any further, he walks over to me with that same easy smile he flashed me at the cantina bar.
“Ready?” he asks.
Absolutely not. “Yes, of course,” I smile.
Nothing is more awkward than standing in an elevator with a stranger waiting to get to your floor. And the weird music hotels play in elevators doesn’t help. Does anyone actually listen to smooth jazz anymore?
“Chris Momento,” he says, and I nearly jump.
“I’m sorry?” I ask, and Gavin pulls a hand from his pocket to point in the air.
“The music. It’s Chris Momento. I love jazz.”
I stand corrected.
“Yeah,” I laugh nervously. “Gotta love that sax…” I swallow hard enough that my throat quivers and stare at the ascending numbers on the wall until we finally reach seventeen.
The door opens and I follow him out.
We walk to the end of the hall, and he uses the room key, pushing the door open for me.
“After you,” he gestures and I smile.
My jaw hits the floor when I see the floor to ceiling windows, French doors opening to a huge balcony, and jacuzzi tub in the corner.
The bed is the biggest bed I’ve ever seen. Forget California, this is like a Texas king.
“You got a suite?” I ask as the door closes behind him, and Gavin just calmly smiles.
How is he so freaking calm!?
Here I am on what is obviously my first rodeo in the one-night-stand department, and meanwhile, Gavin is an experienced rider.
Lord help me.
“I did,” he says as he walks over to the nightstand. “I figure if I’m going to spend the night in a hotel instead of my own house, it needs to be just as comfortable.”
So I guess he does have money.
If his house is anywhere near as fancy as this suite, I don’t feel bad about how much he spent.
“Also,” he adds, holding up a champagne bottle. “It comes with free booze.”
“That sounds amazing,” I say with a nervous laugh.
Gavin pours us each a glass, and I slip out of my heels and pad over to the window. The city is dark with a blanket of glowing lights, and I smile. “So beautiful,” I say softly.
“I agree,” he says, but when I look over at him, he’s staring at me, not the city.
“You’re so smooth,” I muse.
“I try,” he shrugs and grins, and I shake my head.
I was expecting him to jump me as soon as we walked in the door.
I thought he’d immediately throw me on the bed and ravish me before getting off five minutes later and pass out. Then I’d leave the room and do the walk of shame. Maybe I’m a pessimist, but that’s just what I expect from a one-night stand.
But Gavin doesn’t do that.
He pours us a second flute of champagne and turns on the music on the giant TV that’s mounted on the wall. Jazz, of course. Then he slips out of his shoes, loosens his tie, and walks back over to me.
“You look nervous,” he says.
“I’m not,” I argue with the most convincing smile I can manage.
“Don’t be,” he says.
Easy for him to say. He’s not the one standing in a fancy hotel room with a sexy silver fox whose gaze has the power to edge me without even touching me.
He takes another step closer, and my heart speeds up in my chest.
“I’m sorry, I’m not very good at this,” I tell him, and he gently takes my glasses off and sets them to the side.
“I beg to differ,” he says. His voice is so low and gravelly, I can feel it on my skin.
“I swear I’m not always this awkward,” I add.
“Who said anything about awkward?” he asks, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Maybe I need another drink,” I say.
Gavin responds by taking my glass from my hand, setting it next to my glasses and covering my lips with his.
It’s sweet, unrushed, but hot and deliberate.
A kiss I couldn’t escape if I wanted to, and I never want to.
A tiny moan escapes my throat as he works his jaw, parting my lips with his tongue, his hands cupping my cheeks and holding me closer.
My back naturally arches against him, and I rise to my tiptoes to meet him in the kiss.
I’m about five-seven, but the height difference is a little tricky, especially now that I’m not wearing shoes anymore.
As if he can hear my thoughts, Gavin bends down and picks me up, and my legs wrap around his toned torso.
His large, warm hands grip my butt, skin to skin under my dress, sending a surge of heat through my thighs.
Our lips find each other again, and it goes from sweet to frantic as our bodies respond to the need.
As our tongues connect in a dance that feels learned and natural, our hands are busy undressing each other.
He tugs my dress up and my arms slide out. I pull his tie off, and it falls to the floor. He tosses my dress aside and works the latch on my bra. I unbutton his shirt, and he shrugs out of it, and now we are skin against skin.
I’m in nothing but my black panties, and he is in slacks.
I can feel the tip of his erect cock, hard and impatient, rubbing against my thigh, teasing the promise of what comes next.
My pussy is grinding against his abs, and the friction is enough to make my thighs shiver with pleasure.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Gavin growls, kissing down my neck, over my collarbones, and to the swell of my breasts.
He repositions me in his arms, getting a better grip so that his mouth can reach my nipples. The tip of his tongue flicks them, making them hard in his mouth, and making me moan.
Still teasing me relentlessly, Gavin carries me over to the bed and lays me on the plush white comforter.
He stands in front of me, unbuckles his belt, and unzips his slacks.
I prop myself up on my elbows so I can watch him shove his pants to the floor and release his cock from his briefs.
I nearly gasp at the sight of it.
It’s long and smooth.
Hard and veiny.
Pulsing with need and dripping with arousal.
I lick my lips as he strokes himself, all the while keeping his gaze locked on mine.
His eyes are gunmetal gray, holding the intensity of an impending storm preparing to crack the sky open.
Every stroke of his hand, from base to tip, coaxes my thighs open in need.
I lift my butt from the bed and slip my panties off, laying on full display in front of him.
Gavin lets out a deep, animalistic groan at the sight of me and swaggers back to the bed. “Come here,” he says, pulling me by my thighs towards him.
He kisses me, urgent and hungry, tugging my bottom lip between his teeth.
Then he pulls back, just enough that his eyes can find mine.
“Do you want it?” he asks, his voice low and gritty. “Do you want my cock inside you?”
I nod. “I do.”
“Say it. Say you want it,” he says.
“I want your cock inside me,” I obey, my words desperate.
He groans.
I feel his dick press into my opening, slowly at first, before pulling back slightly. Then in again and out again, teasing and willing me to open.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says.
“You won’t,” I tell him.
“Have you been with someone bigger than me?” he asks, his lips turning up at the corners into a smirk.
“Oh gosh no,” I say almost immediately.
He chuckles before slipping himself inside of me.
I gasp as I stretch around him. His girth and veins rub against every nerve inside of me, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. It doesn’t hurt, but it is a lot, in the best way possible.
Gavin pushes and pulls, filling me more and more with each glide until I am consumed by nothing but him.
“Good gosh,” I let out with a sigh as my body relaxes around the sheer volume of him.
Gavin smiles, kissing me again before his hips rock against me in a smooth rhythm. My body falls in step with his, grinding against him, legs wrapped around him, hands on his firm chest. Everything about this man is large. His biceps are nearly the size of my thighs.
Beads of perspiration form at his silver-flecked temples.
They drip down his jawline and into his well-groomed facial hair before dropping onto my chest. It has nothing to do with exertion.
He could run marathons without getting short of breath.
It’s the body heat between us that has us both glistening with sweat.
“Fuck, baby girl, you are so goddamn tight,” he says as he grinds in and out of me.
“Is that a bad thing?” I ask. No one has ever said that to me before. I’ve also never been with a man that has a dick worthy of being carved on a Greek statue before either.
“Hell no,” he answers with a growly laugh.
Our bodies clap together as he picks up speed, and he smirks again. “You’re wet for me too,” he says.
I respond with a whimper and a nod.
“Are you going to come for me?” he asks.
“Yes,” I answer.
“Are you ready to come for me?” he asks, and I nod.
“Please,” I beg. I can tell just by the intensity of the pleasure swelling between my thighs that this orgasm is going to be the end-all for me.
I also don’t know how much more of his cock I can take, so I shamelessly resort to begging. “Please make me come. I need to come.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he grins, getting up on his knees. Then he grabs me by the thighs, lifting my butt off the bed and yanking me into him. His hips crash into mine with more urgency, harder and harder, faster and faster until I am gasping, moaning, and writhing on the bed.
As the fire rushes through my veins, I can literally feel the release building up in him too, making his cock even harder inside of me.
Then, all at once, it breaks free in an earthquake of seizing spasms as the orgasm rips through us.
He falls on top of me and we lay there panting. I feel my walls pulsate around his cock, the aftermath of the orgasm still giving me pleasure.
So that's what sex is supposed to feel like, I think to myself, not sure if I'm disappointed for the lost opportunity all these years or disappointed because I'll probably never have this again.
When we both relax, he rolls onto his back, and I sit up and smile.
Well. I guess I can cross off epic one-night stands from my ‘never-have-I-ever’ list.
I'm not sure what to do next. What's the protocol? Are we supposed to cuddle? Should I remark about how good he was? Or should I get the hell out of here before I make a schoolgirl fool of myself, ranting about how big his penis is and how that was the most intense orgasm I've ever had.
I decide to get up and pad over to retrieve my clothes.
As I pick up my panties, which are lying on the floor next to his pants, I notice his wallet fell out of the pocket. Next to it is a business card.
Snowcap Summit Ski Resort
At first, I think maybe it’s a place he frequents for skiing.
But then I see the name at the bottom.
Gavin Lacey- Proprietor.
Lacey?
Slowly, my brain starts to make connections. “You dropped this,” I say, handing him his wallet and the card.
His phone rings, and I see the screen.
Ben.
“Sorry, my son is calling,” he says, sitting up to take the call.
His son?
All at once, it hits me.
Gavin Lacey.
Ben Lacey.
Oh. My. God.
Tell me I did not just sleep with my ex’s dad.